The Autobiography of a Crab Cake
How did I get here?
We must have pulled 100 crabs out of the water off the pier at Solomon’s Island in Maryland. This is the heart of blue crab country in Maryland. The holy grail of crabs.
One or two at a time. We didn’t have a boat, but we did have nets on the end of long poles. We were not the only ones out in the dark of night.
We just keep plucking them out and tossing them into our refrigerator. When we saw the sun peeking up over the horizon, and could not fit another crab into our giant cooler, we carried the cooler to the car.
We loaded the cooler into the back of the car and it tipped over inside the car. Crabs were everywhere. Live crabs. (Holy Crab Meat, Batman. Do you have any gloves to grab live crabs??)
Nope.
So we just had to start grabbing them with our bare hands and every now and then the crabs would claw us on our fingers. We got them all back into the cooler but it was painful. You want to enjoy us, you have to pay the ultimate price.
Just a few hours later we had the boil on the stove going, cold beer on the table and soon, the crabs were ready to be broken apart. We stacked bowls of crab meat on the table and made sure all the shells was gone.
