Eating Maryland Blue Crabs

Katy's mom, Lynne, grew up on Maryland's Eastern Shore. As such, she was used to eating Maryland Blue Crabs fresh from the Chesapeake Bay. Growing up in Weatherford, Oklahoma - approximately 500 miles from any decent sized bodies of salt water - did not afford me similar opportunities. In spite of this early handicap I have learned the Way of the Crab under my mother-in-law's expert tutelage.

To help celebrate a family trip to Big Bear this September, Katy called her mom's crab contact in Maryland and had him ship out a bushel of large crabs. (Crabs are classified small, medium, large, jumbo, and whale, depending on the width of their back.) Katy's folks kindly volunteered to drive down to the San Diego airport to pick up the counter-to-counter shipment and bring them up for the Feast.

The crabs were steamed and then chilled before shipping - so all we had to do was heat them up and eat them up! (I was a little disappointed that they weren't alive - we could have had crab races! Then Katy pointed out that we could flip them on their backs and use them for shuffleboard.)




To give you an idea of scale, here's one crab, alone in a pan waiting to be re-steamed. You'll note that the crab is not really blue - apparently they are when alive, but turn red when steamed. (Not unlike myself, I imagine.)




This represents about 1/5 to 1/6 a bushel of crabs. There were a lot of them, and only six of us. We would have to eat mightily to take care of this many crabs. I prepared myself mentally by drinking a beer or two.

After the crabs were heated up, they were ready to plop on the table. My mother-in-law's traditional crab feast includes saltines, sharp cheddar cheese, pickles, and beer to accompany the Feature Crustaceans. Cocktail sauce and melted butter have been known to show up as well. We covered the table with newspapers to protect the finish, and various forks, wooden hammers, and picks are set about to assist in the removal of meat from the crabs.




Here's how it looked as we sat down to the feast. Again, this is but a small fraction of the bushel of crabs.

Then begins the process of picking the meat from the crab. The basic process goes something like this: First you remove the legs and claws. Then you open up the main carapace and remove that. Then you clean out the lungs and other yummy organs, and crack the remaining part in half. Inside this half lives the greatly desirable lumpfin meat. It's sweet and firm and deeelicious. It's a fair amount of work for a small bit of meat, but boy is it good. One thing that always surprises me is that the lumpfin meat is so much sweeter than the claw meat.




Here's a shot of Lynne (my mother-in-law) expertly picking the meat from another crab. On the left, just below the pickles, you can see the carapace of the crab, upside down.




At this point we're about halfway through, and the pile in the middle has been refreshed a couple times. You'll notice the crab parts (and beer bottles) are starting to stack up around the table.




We've been going at it for about an hour by now, and Lynne is working on her last crab of the night. By her count, she had five or six crabs.




I was more ambitious in my Crustacean Consumption. I plowed through nine or ten of these guys, and would have been able to polish off a few more. Notice the large pile of crab parts arrayed in front of me, trophies testifying to my mighty hunger. It's good to be a carnivore, say I!

In spite of my ferocious attack on the bushel of crabs, quite a few remained. Lynne spent an hour or so the next day picking the meat out of the remaining victims - most of which was frozen for future use in crab cakes. Mmm - crab cakes.

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