Great Moments in Shellfish

I'm back. Both figuratively and literally. I haven't written in more than a week, mostly because I've been busy, but also because I was just generally a little run down. However, I went back to Washington for a long weekend and I think I've recharged the batteries a little.

I say back because D.C. was the first place I lived after college. To be precise, I lived in a highly suburban part of Alexandria, Va., but I only returned there to sleep and shower. In fact, I spent so much time being busy when I lived there, I managed to never partake in some of the finer aspects of National Capital Area life.

Among the highlights of my trip was a trip to a local crab shack. Yes, it was in Arlington and not exactly hard by the Chesapeake, but crabs are more D.C. than you'd think. And I'd been waiting to partake for two decades, during which blue crab had become a kind of decapodal white whale for me.

The species has fascinated me ever since I watched people catching them on Kiawah Island when I was eight years old. I wanted to catch some and take them back to our place and eat them. But a messy table piled high with marine life wasn't really my parents' thing. So I had to content myself with pulling a few cranky critters out of the sound and tossing them back. During a visit to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, I even took a dip net and waded around near Oregon Inlet, an Ahab in (albeit, two) low-top Chuck Taylors. I scooped up plenty of ornery arthropods, but had to gently release each one.

In the 20 years in between the genesis and resolution of this minor crustacean crush, I've sampled stone, Dungeness, king, snow and even imitation crab, but never the real thing. Until last weekend. And I have to say, as great moments in shellfish go, this one was pretty profound.

The way it works is this: You sit down at a table which is covered in newsprint. Pitchers of cold beer materialize, followed by plastic knives and small mallets. Then, the crabs arrive in a spicy, vinegary cloud. You dismantle the shell, pick the meat out, then go after the claws with your mallet. Do not rinse, just repeat until you've had your fill. It's messy, tasty fun.

The best analogy I can think of for our regular readers is that if blue crabs were a rock n' roll band, they'd be The Hold Steady. A crab feast isn't the most sublime experience to be had in the seafood world, but it might be the most fun.

I've totally been missing out.