My response: to some people, the term "ethnic food" is disparaging and Americentric. I agree. In many cases it is. America is just as ethnic as anywhere else. It just depends on geography and perspective. That's why I'm writing about a uniquely american food tradition this time (and it certainly won't be the last time), a tradition that is synonymous with Chesapeake Bay, the steamed blue crab. Those of you who have had them will know what I'm talking about. Those who haven't need to try them.
Blue crabs (Callinectes sapidus) can be found along the Atlantic coast from Nova Scotia to Florida, the Gulf of Mexico, the Carribbean and along South America's Atlantic coast as far south as Argentina. Chesapeake watermen call them jimmies, sallies or sooks, depending on their gender and sexual maturity. Jimmies are male crabs, sallies are sexually immature females and sooks are sexually mature females, prized for their use in she-crab soup. A great resource for blue crab information can be found here.
If you get the chance to visit the Chesapeake Bay region of Maryland and Virginia the best way to indulge in a blue crab feast is to visit a local crab house, sometimes known as a crab shack. The best ones are the mom and pop operations that ecshew the faux nautical motif of their tourist friendly competitors. You know the places I'm talking about, the ones with names like The Bucket of Chum and the Rusty Something-or-other. No, the true crab house doesn't decorate it's walls with never-used fishing nets and shiny brass sextants and diving helmets. The interior of a real crab house is usually somewhat spartan and sometimes even ramshackle. That's because the proprietors of these joints are too busy cooking up some really good food to worry about what adorns their walls, and isn't the food really what it's all about? If there is an occasional crab pot or cork float used as decoration, chances are that it was actually used to catch a crab or two.
Case in point: on the south side of Baltimore's Inner Harbor, in a neighborhood known as Locust Point, a block or two from the Domino's Sugar plant, there's a place called L. P. Steamer's, housed in an unassuming building on the corner of Fort Avenue and Woodall Street. You would be forgiven if you drove past it any number of times without realizing the crabby delights that lie waiting within.
Opened thirteen years ago by a gentleman named Bud Gardner, L. P. Steamer's is a family run, local institution. They started with seven tables on the ground floor, and as their business grew they expanded upward until they reached the roof, where they built a dining deck that sports a nice view of the Inner Harbor. The expansion included the addition of Bud's grandsons to the staff. By the way, all the construction was done by family and friends. No architects, no contractors and no fake nautical motif.
Here, in traditional crab house style, brown paper covers the tables and the hot, steamed crabs are placed directly on it. Wooden mallets and knives are provided to facilitate the removal of the tender, slightly sweet blue crab meat. According to the folks at L. P. Steamer's, there are probably as many ways to pick and eat steamed crabs as there are crab pickers in Baltimore. That's probably true. Here is their way to unlock the delicate treasure within.
One of the great things about this place is that when you come in, they make you feel like you're a part of the family, and it's genuine. These are people who enjoy what they do. Alex McVee, one of the cooks, commutes an hour each way, every day because, in his words, "I feel like a part of the family." Katie Schroeder, who grew up in the neighborhood, left her career at a non-profit organization to work here for the very same reason. Try to find that at your local Cap'n Crabbies chain. Need more proof? Bud was more than willing to share the recipe for his family's renowned cole slaw recipe. I'm not a big fan of cole slaw, but this one won me over. I am not going to share the secret either; you're going to have to go there and try it yourself. You won't be disappointed.
If you can't get to the Chesapeake Bay area, you can still enjoy steamed blue crabs at home. Here's how it works. Get yourself a mess of crabs (live, of course), a big pot with a wire rack on the bottom to steam them in, crab spice and enough water for about fifteen minutes of steaming.
Get yourself some crab whackers, or nut crackers, some some knives (fondue forks work nicely too) and enjoy. Try dipping the crab meat in some apple cider vinegar. It grows on you.
If you can't get to the Chesapeake Bay area, you can still enjoy steamed blue crabs at home. Here's how it works. Get yourself a mess of crabs (live, of course), a big pot with a wire rack on the bottom to steam them in, crab spice and enough water for about fifteen minutes of steaming.When it comes to crab spice, the major players are Old Bay and J.O. I grew up using Old Bay, but Nick Salyers (one of Bud Gardner's grandsons) told me that, at L. P. Steamer's, they use J. O. #2 because it is ground more coarsely and sticks to the crabs better. After seeing their crabs, I'm inclined to agree. Either one will be just fine, though.
Start the pot to boiling and when it does, place the crabs in layers in the pot, dusting each layer with crab spice. Be careful handling these guys. They're naturally aggressive and probably in no mood to be placed in a pot for steaming anyway. The claws can deliver a wicked pinch, and if they break the skin, some say that blood poisoning is possible. Use tongs or gloves if you can.
While layering the crabs is nice, in theory, in reality a heated battle will ensue among the bellicose crustacians, and they will literally tear each other limb from limb in their final throes. Some people place their crabs in ice water for a few minutes to subdue them and make for easier layering, with fewer liberated limbs. They taste just as good either way, but if appearance is important, give this option a try.
Once cooked, the blue crabs will be the typical cooked crustacian red.
Get yourself some crab whackers, or nut crackers, some some knives (fondue forks work nicely too) and enjoy. Try dipping the crab meat in some apple cider vinegar. It grows on you. "But wait," you say. "What's the shocking truth about crabs that you promised in the title of this post?"
It all has to do with the pugnacious nature of the blue crab. Remember a couple of paragraphs ago when I said that blue crabs will tear each other limb from limb in the cooking pot and that one way to avoid that is to place them in an ice water bath? Well, to keep their crabs whole and esthetically pleasing, crab houses have come up with a way to subdue the little scrappers and ensure their cooperation during the steaming process. They shock them. With electricity. It's kind of like a crustacian tazer that immobilzes them and renders them incapable of lashing out against their fellow crabs (or man). Instead of ice in their final bath, they recieve a jolt of electricity that provides the necessary attitude adjustment. I'm just glad that I was not born so delicious.
