Crab Season - Our First Year on the Water
Ocean to Table with Your Bare Hands
Crab season is over, as of April 15. This is a Pacific Ocean fact I usually wouldn’t know.
Dungeness Crabs, in my kitchen life, start appearing at the market fish counter in December in time for Cioppino on Christmas Eve.
Or, my mother-in-law would show up with a haul from her friend at the harbor. Maybe someone would call us to help eat a windfall!
But this year, my husband got a little fishing boat. I’m learning about California fisheries law and weather and bait. The limits on crabbing season are directly impacting my weekend— and my stomach.
The windfalls this year have been ours, except that by windfalls, I mean hard-earned scrabbling for what we could get between storm swells, harbor closures, and a season that started late and ended early.
There have been an unusual number of humpback whales in the Monterey Bay this year, and the lines for commercial crabbing are perilous to these mammals. It’s the same for sport fishing, which has its own parallel set of rules.
Even though we never caught so much crab that we needed to call in reinforcements, it still feels like a bounty and a gift. A gift that needs to be handled with respect.
The first fresh crab you bring home should be boiled, cleaned, and maybe dipped in melted butter. You taste the ocean. It’s as sweet as a pastry. Firm and salty, and a bit of work. Each morsel is hard-won, intimate, cracked and teased out of the shell.
It feels primal (our seafaring ancestors!), and alien (eating like a Klingon!). If you are looking to practice mindful eating, here you go.
After the first crab, we branch out. The melted butter gets more elaborate, with garlic, lemon, a few chili flakes, and a splash of Red Boat fish sauce. You haven’t lived until you start flavoring fish with fish!
Not a year goes by that I don’t make angel hair pasta with crab, green onions, and chopped preserved lemon peel. There’s garlic and chilies in the mix, plus lots of parsley.
Then, Crab Louie. Actually, traditional crab louie is too mayonnaise-y and heavy. I make the nod with lettuce, avocados, hard-boiled eggs, and a mustard vinaigrette.
And finally, a crab omelet if I’m lucky enough to have any left.
There used to be a restaurant in town, decades back, that made a dish called enchiladas del cielo. It had crab and a chili-peanut sauce. The crab stood out as the dominant flavor but was complimented by the toothiness of the tortillas and sweetness of the sauce. I think of it every time we get some crab, but I’ve never been able to replicate it. Each season that brings enough crab, I try.
This year won’t be that year. Our catch was so spare that we stopped at cracked. I’ll wait for next season, dreaming of enchiladas del cielo.
Soundtrack:
The Dog of the South, audiobook edition (audio sample at link)
By Charles Portis, narrated by David Aaron Baker
“How about a monkey island? I don’t say it would be cheap. Nobody’s going to pay to see one or two monkeys these days. People want to see a lot of monkeys. I’ve got plenty of ideas but first I have to get my hands on the island. Can you see what I’m driving at? It’s the hottest piece of real estate in Louisiana, bar none.”
I’m late to the Charles Portis train, but: Choo-choo! David Aaron Blake brought me around. His dialect work alone, the differences between Arkansas, Texas, and Canada is sharp and enlightening. He throws so much self pity and self-righteousness behind Ray Midge’s story that I’m hearing this antihero in a whole new light. It’s laugh a minute. Go get a Hoopla account from the library and treat yourself.
Viewing:
Wong Kar Wai takes the angst, drama, and lust of youth and uses it to tie a knot around your heart and tug, tug, tug.
I sometimes dream of getting my hands broken so that Tony Leung has no choice but to take me back, cook for me, and dance tango in the kitchen while we're stranded in Argentina.
I’m ready to go out again now that my fingers are healed from our last catch! I just Love your writing Willow.