Out On A Limb With Crabs

Out on a Limb with Crabs




Last summer, the brother-in-law of a co-worker was crabbing off a pier in the Choptank River over here on the Eastern Shore.

Chickennecking next to him was a family of tourists. Every time these folks netted a legal-sized blue crab, they looked at it for a moment and then throw it back. After a while, the brother-in-law could stand it no longer and asked why they were throwing back these perfectly good, legal-sized crabs.

“Well,” the father responded “these blue crabs look pretty, but we were kind of hoping to catch some of those orange ones like we had for dinner last night.”



Not missing a beat, the brother-in-law told the tourists “Well, you’re right. Those orange crabs are good, but I’m kind of partial to the blue ones as well. So, if you get any more you don’t want, you can just put them right here in my basket.”

The tourists were from Baltimore. You would think they would know better. But then again, Baltimore is also where Old Bay seasoning comes from.

Speaking of which, did you every wonder why people inflict bay seasoning on something as wonderful as a crab? I mean, we don’t inflict bay seasoning on lobsters. We don’t inflict bay seasoning on clams. We don’t inflict bay seasoning on oysters. Why do we single out the poor crab? I don’t think it’s fair.

Think about it for a minute. We take a perfectly fine piece of shellfish. Then we sprinkle this stuff on the part of it we don’t eat. We cook it. Then we pick up the crab, eat the meat, getting the spices all over our hands. Then we rub the stuff up our noses and into our eyes. Why do we do that? I don’t know.

All I can think is that some brewer in Baltimore must have been having a bad year. So one night he had this thought. “Let’s get some really hot pepper and some weird spices and dump them all over crabs while they cook. Then people will burn their mouths and put the spices up their noses and into their eyes and they’ll drink more beer!” The whole point of this stuff is to sell beer. That’s all it can be!

Did you ever taste the stuff? I mean seriously taste it – like right out of the can or bag? Do you have some in the pantry? Go get it. I’ll wait.

Now go ahead, take a pinch. “Place it between you cheek and gum…”

It’s awful, isn’t it? Does it remind you of anything? It does me.

When I was a kid in Washington, D.C., on hot summer days the coach made us suck on salt tablets. I was a skeptical sort, even then. I mean there are a lot of dead deer out there who fell for that trick. So, instead of salt tablets, I used to suck on chicken bouillon cubes. I got my salt fix. They tasted better than salt tablets. And, I didn’t have to worry about getting shot.

Chicken bouillon cubes! That’s what bay seasoning reminds me of. Chicken bouillon cubes with cayenne instead of chicken. Look at the ingredients, if you don’t believe me.

The Knorr chicken bouillon cube box is not terribly explicit about which dehydrated herbs and spices are in there, but salt is the first ingredient and onion, parsley, tumeric and “spice” are also mentioned.

Now this from the side of a can of Old Bay Seasoning:

“celery salt (salt, celery seed), spices (including mustard, red pepper, black pepper, bay (laurel) leaves, cloves, allspice (piment), ginger, mace, cardamom, cinnamon, and paprika.”

The list of ingredients in the Chesapeake Bay Seafood Seasoning from Penzeys Spices is similar:

“sweet paprika, salt, mustard, celery, ancho, black pepper, cayenne red pepper, dill seed, dill weed, caraway, allspice, horseradish, cardamom, thyme, ginger, bay leaves, mace, savory, and cloves.”

They’re from Wisconsin. We forgive them the caraway, dill, and horseradish. They think everything needs some Oom Pah-Pah. Wisconsin! What do they know about crabs?

Fred Thompson’s delightful book Crazy for Crab (Harvard Common Press, 2004) suggests starting with the following and then “play with the spices.”

3 tablespoons paprika, 2 tablespoons kosher salt, 1 to 2 tablespoons garlic powder, 1 tablespoon each of onion powder, cayenne pepper, dried oregano, and dried thyme, plus 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

But am I not right? All those dehydrated herbs and spices are just like a chicken bouillon cube without the chicken.

But eventually, I grew up. I don’t suck on chicken bouillon cubes. I don’t even use chicken bouillon cubes. So why are we still putting this stuff on crabs? It’s awful.

Okay, Okay. Maybe I got carried away a little bit. I’m sorry. Right now, somewhere out there, one or more of you is thinking. “Well, a lot of spice mixtures don’t taste very good raw – like curries, for example. They need to be heated to bring the flavors out and bring them together.” Yesterday, I tested this theory.

First, I just heated a bit of oil and cooked a teaspoon of bay seasoning in it for a few minutes – long enough for the flavors to meld. Still awful.

Then I made two curries – crab and chicken – using bay seasoning instead of curry paste. The results: Worse than awful!! You know what it tasted like? A chicken bouillon cube with cayenne, garlic, lemongrass, galangal, and ginger! Yuck.

Then I got to thinking about all the paprika in bay seasoning. Maybe curry wasn’t the best test. Maybe something Hungarian would be better – so I tried a chicken paprikash and a crab paprikash. The results -- underwhelming at best! You know what it tasted like? A creamy, pink chicken bouillon cube with cayenne. Yuck.

End of story.

All right, now. Have I been fair or not? I tasted this stuff on crabs. I tasted it raw. I tasted it heated in oil. I made two dishes with it that had a chance of being palatable. The bottom line is that, to my mind, like really bad pornography, there is simply no redeeming social value to bay seasoning.

So, what does one do with crabs if one doesn’t want to anoint them with cayenne, dried spices and salt?

We live in St. Michaels, Maryland. At this moment, I am watching the crabbers bring in their daily catch at the dock across the street. What I am about to write will probably get me run out of town.

Some thoughts for enjoying crabs sans bay seasoning

First, decide what white wine you are going to drink with your crabs. “WINE!!!” I hear you scream. “Whoa there cowboy! You don’t drink WINE with crabs; you drink beer!” Now think about that for a moment. There are a lot of people who drink wine with crab cakes, right? Why not drink wine when picking crabs? Come on. It’s OK. Try it. Please. Well, yes, the glass does get kind of yucky looking, but the wine is still good. Use cobalt glasses if the yuck gets to you. Please try it.

The wine I choose depends pretty much on the sauce I am using. If the sauce is spicy, I tend to drink a Riesling. If it is herbal, I go with a Sauvignon Blanc (a nice grassy one). If it’s a snail butter, I often opt for Chardonnay. Even a pretty rich and buttery one works well.

The reason I try to use the same grape variety as I will be drinking is that crabs really do pick up the flavor of whatever they are steamed in. So do shrimp for that matter.

Now, put about a third of a bottle in the bottom of your steamer. Add as much water as you need to make sure the pot won’t dry out while the crabs steam. Bring to boil. Add crabs and steam until (Yes) Orange! And done. This will take about 25 minutes, depending on how many crabs are in the pot and, thus, how fast the water gets back to a really full boil after you add the crabs. I usually start counting when I see steam coming out the top of the pot. At this point, I also turn the heat down to medium-high for the duration.

Take the crabs out and serve with one or more of the following sauces:

Basil Butter: Melt as much butter as you think you will need. Chop up some basil and heat in the butter. Serve.

Snail Butter: Melt butter. Sauté a mess of garlic in it. Add chopped flat leaf Italian parsley. Heat. Serve.

Habañero Butter: Melt butter. Seed and finely chop one habañero pepper. Add. Heat for a bit. Serve. [See, I am not against spice or heat with crab. I just prefer fresh herbs or heat to powdered versions.]

Okay, get ready. I am about to go off the end of this limb. I’m sorry, Mom. I tried to be normal. I really did.

What we have been enjoying with our crabs this year most of all is Truffle Butter (black or white). I know, it sounds really, really weird. But, it’s also really, really good. It started this past winter when we tried truffle butter with lobster. To die for. So why not crabs? We tried it. It’s great.

But of course, you have to drink champagne with truffle butter, don’t you? [There he goes again! We were just getting used to the idea of wine. Now we have to think about good champagne? Whoa cowboy! Whoa!] To me, though, champagne just seems right. Besides, at something close to $60 a dozen, I think crabs warrant truffle butter and champagne – and so do we! [The truffle butter comes from D’Artagnan and can be found in selected specialty food shops or ordered directly at http://www.dartagnan.com/.]

I can see it now – the ultimate crab feast – a symphony in black in white.

Men in black tie, women in white gowns and long white rubber gloves. The candelabra are aglitter. The long table is set only with champagne flutes, crab mallets and/or knives, and crystal finger bowls. In front of each diner a stack of placemats cut with pinking shears from the major newspapers of the world (black and white only, of course – no Financial Times). In front of each diner, a silver bowl of truffle butter.

The only color is the swath of orange crabs down the middle of the table and the platters of al dente white asparagus carried by liveried waiters. The Dom flows. The mallets and knives fly. The glasses are raised. Asparagus glide from fingers to gullet. No sneezing. No pepper up the nose. No weeping eyes. Just great crab.

Ah yes, I can see it now…

Oh, well. Back to reality.

I suspect it will be a while before the crab shacks of the Chesapeake Bay drop bay seasoning in favor of truffle butter. But, life is a bit like dancing. You can lead or you can follow.

People eat our crabs and ask where we got them. The words “These are the sweetest crabs I have ever tasted” have crossed the lips of many a guest. They’re the same ‘ol crabs. We just don’t abuse them with salt and cayenne/paprika gunk.

Tomorrow night is trash night, right? Why don’t you throw out that can or bag of bay seasoning. Get some crabs. Open a bottle of your favorite white. Try something fresh and new in the way of a sauce. Make up your own if the ones above don’t appeal. The crabs are the melody. Play your own riffs with the sauce.

Why not? You have nothing to lose but your family, your friends, and your reputation as a cook. You can always go back to following if you choose. What the hell! Let’s dance.