Gone Crabbin'

So far, the weather has been perfect! It's hot and sunny, and there's a nice breeze that's been blowing off the ocean in perfectly-timed intervals. I'm getting as red as a lobster and, coincidentally, tonight I shall be eating a lobster. Interesting.

Foxy and I are planning a seafood festival with our friends tonight which, in addition to lobster, will include blue-claw crab, shrimp, and scallops. Blue-claw crabs are frequently referred to as Maryland blue-claw crabs and have - you guessed it - blue claws. They are ubiquitous in this part of the country in the summer, and can be caught just about anywhere where there is salt water.

When I was younger, it was quite a big deal for us to go crabbing. We would trek over to the wetlands in the bay, or take out a small fishing boat, and begin our hunting expedition. This can be done using the most rudimentary of equipment, and usually yields enough for an entire family to eat, in a relatively short amount of time.

The crabbing line itself is just a simple piece of wire - coat-hangar guage - bent into a triangular shape, with a fishing weight attached to it. A string is tied to the metal wire so that it can be maneuvered into the water, into an unsuspecting crab's lair. The bait, which is skewered on the wire, can be almost anything. Crabs are not discriminating in what they'll sink their pincers into. However, bits of an oily fish, such as mackerel, work best.

The line must be lowered gingerly, with the utmost care and skill, into the dark water. Too quickly and you'll scare the crabs away. Too slowly, and you'll bore yourself to death. A perfect balance must be struck. It is really key that the triangular meat-hook contraption go all the way to the bottom to rest; it must not dangle midway between the surface and the bottom. Crabs walk along the bottom, and can't swim upwards with any kind of control - I don't think.

Then the waiting begins. At this point, older and more seasoned crabbers usually begin drinking beer; usually Budweiser, and usually from a can. I don't know why, that's just how I remember it.

The line will begin vibrating and dancing when some poor, naive crab has commenced nibbling on whatever crabby treat you've delivered to the bottom. Then it'll begin moving away as the crab tries to abscond with the aforementioned treat.

It is at this point that the trickiest phase is initiated. Remember how carefully the line was lowered into the water? Well, now it must be pulled up with even more care, and even more skill. If you pull it up to quickly, the crab will become aware of his own unexpected elevation and let go without another thought. If you pull up too slowly, again, you risk boring yourself to tears or death.

As the triangular meat-hook contraption approaches the surface of the water, the crab's silhouette becomes visible. It is at this point that a member of your all-star crabbing team deftly scoops the mark from underneath with a net, ripping him from his watery world. The crab is then put into a bucket with the other crabs. There is always water in this bucket. Real crabbers don't torture crabs to death by drying them out, nor do they cook dead crabs.

Here's how they are cooked, which is peculiar to the New Jersey-Maryland region:

They are steamed in an enormous pot, sometimes measuring about 2.5 feet or more in height if you have a large quantity. As they steam slowly, beer is generously poured over them. I'm told this is for anesthetic purposes. They are then made dirty, as it is called, by having can upon can of Old Bay seasoning dumped upon them.

Note: I don't always eat them this way, I just enthusiastically recommend it.

Each crab takes quite a while to break apart properly and eat, but the reward is substantial. So if you're ever in the area, have some crabs, and get them dirty.