Memoir: Crabbing

    I was walking Oreo yesterday and came across a fellow getting ready to go crabbing in the lake at our apartments. It reminded me of crabbing as a kid. 

We didn’t own a boat, but friends of ours did. Their home was on Love Creek, a few miles from our farm and the Atlantic Ocean. Every once in awhile, they would take us out crabbing. What I remember most is the excitement of catching them and the pleasure of eating them.

We loaded the boat with chicken backs, heavy twine, and some nets. Once on the water, we tie one end of the twine tightly around a chicken back, throw it in the water, and then wait. We have learned that the key to successful crabbing is to watch your string carefully. If you see it moving, there’s probably a crab on the other end. 

Next is the capture. I see my twine bobbing in the water. So, ever so gently, I pull the string towards the boat. Using my thumbs and forefingers, I rotate one hand after another, trying not to let the unsuspecting crab know he is about to become dinner.

As the crab comes into view - S-W-O-O-S-H! I scoop a net into the water and swallow the crab from the bottom up! Its blue claws grab at my net, getting tangled in the process. I reach in, grab him by the back of the shell, untangle him from the net, and toss him in a bushel basket. Feeling quite proud of myself, I send down another chicken back.

Within an hour, we collect a bushel basket full of beautiful blue crabs. Now, it’s time for cooking. This is the part I don’t enjoy. In fact, I try to stay far away from the kitchen until this part is over. Mom puts the live crabs in a big metal pot with a bit of cold water. Then she turns on the heat. The crabs begin frantically clawing and scraping at the sides of the metal pan, desperately trying to get out. This is the stuff of nightmares! But it doesn’t stop me from eating them when the cooking is done.

The now-red crabs are thrown onto layers of newspapers covering our eight-foot-long table. Dad and mom have beers, my brothers have cokes, but I skip the beverages. Instead, I concentrate on the crabs. 

While everyone else is enjoying themselves cracking open a crab, digging through the shell, eating the sweet and salty meat, talking, and drinking their beverages, I am busy hoarding. I, too, crack the crabs and dig out the meat; but I eat none of it. Instead, I pile the meat in front of me creating a mountain of seafood goodness. When all the crabs have been distributed, I drizzle melted butter over the pile of meat I’ve hoarded. While everyone else looks on, I dive in, stuffing sweet, salty, buttery goodness into my mouth, big lumps at a time. In between the savory bites, I think to myself, “Now, this is the way to eat crab!”