Sunday, August 31, 2008

The Art of Eating Maryland Crabs

First off, reach into the pile of boiling hot crabs that were steamed in Old Bay seasoning, and select one by size that suits your appetite.

Flip the crab over to expose its belly. This is a male crab which is indicated by the spear-shaped structure called an "apron." That is the thingy in the middle.

The hinged apron is then pulled down, and the crab's erstwhile business district is exposed. You then snap the spear off, and that releases the crab's upper shell from its lower half.

The mighty crab's machine shop is then opened for your scavenging endeavors. The lungs (the cream colored leafy structures on its flanks) are discarded.

The top half corners of the crab's shell harbors a creaming goo that resembles mustard; hence, its name, "mustard." However, it no more tastes like mustard than mayonnaise tastes like mustard or ketchup tastes like asparagus soup.

A yummy finger tip of mustard.

With its lungs removed you can now suck from its meridian all the gooey goodness of more mustard! Then hold the crab carcass firmly betwixt your hands and snap it in half.

Ummmmmmmmm, meat. Ummmmm, mustard.

SLURP, SLURP, SLURP!!!

"GOOD GAWD! You don't expect me to eat that wormy looking mess--DO YOU?" Yes, just be careful not to eat the gray colored "sand sack." It only takes one bite to realize why it ought to be discarded.

Take your knife and crack a groove near the pincers, and crack away the arm--voila--a nice chunk of meat is there for your delight! The middle segment of the arm also has a pleasant surprise of meat as well. BUT--be sure the crab is fully cooked!

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"SON-OF-A-B-WORD!" And yes, I do mean BROCCOLI.

Copyright © 2008 Jonathan Aspensen All rights reserved. No part of this website, nor any of its contents, may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Jonathan Aspensen.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Way Down Upon The Patuxent River--

The rising sun is caught in my sunglasses

Slapping across the water at 40 mph in a small boat is quite exhilarating, and when the spray blasts you in the face after hitting another boat’s wake, it just amps up the excitement!

Smile Gene

Gene Mueller (Outdoors Editor for Washington DC’s, Washington Times) had invited me to tag along on a fishing trip up Maryland’s Patuxent River. We were there to fish along the river’s bank for white perch.

Easing along this peaceful stretch of water, and ogling at the clutter of big-bucks vacation homes, farmlands, and a few glimpses of wilderness, we puttered into a side tributary named Battle Creek, and cast our lines.
I did not really care whether I caught any fish at all, being outdoors with the likes of Mr. Mueller was thrill enough.

Reeling in my lure after a "perfect" cast into the weeds

He was a patient guide who did not mind pulling the boat up against a snag or two, or three, so that I could retrieve a lure that went awry. I also developed a knack for tangling my line into a hopeless mess. I finally did manage to get the feel for the lure’s weight, and the proper amount of snap to apply to the rod, but by that time I had already caught a handful of perch.

My BIG catch

When we got back to his home we were all treated to a feast of steamed crabs, and imported barley pops. It pays when your mother-in-law marries a popular and benevolent sports writer, and is quite the fisherwoman and crabber, herself.

A pile of steamed crab carcasses from the Chesapeake Bay

I reached into the pile of piping hot crabs, and one in particular came out swinging. I whacked it numerous times with my mallet! Then, when I recognized the ball cap it was wearing--I let it go.

Life does not get any better than a good friend, a pile of happy crabs, and
a few barley pops to wash the crabs down the gullet.

It was high tide and the briny water was awash in jellyfish
I caught a number of them by their tentacles when I reeled in my lure.

Copyright © 2008 Jonathan Aspensen All rights reserved. No part of this website, nor any of its contents, may be
reproduced in any form without the express written permission of
Jonathan Aspensen.