Summers are never complete without at least one crab feast. Growing up in Maryland means the only crabs worth eating are jumbo sized with Chesapeake Bay seasoning. Being Filipino means we eat them with rice and wash them down with cans of coke. The whole ritual is second nature. Spread out the newspaper to cover the table, serve out the rice, set up bowls of vinegar for dipping the crab meat, water bowls for rinsing bay seasoned fingers and grocery bags on the floor for all the empty shells. Last weekend, my parents grabbed 2 dozen crabs from Gibby's and we all sat down for hours.

Another crab eating tradition: my dad's story of the Englishman. A British friend of a friend visited our house long ago and requested to sample Maryland's famous crabs. But his prim sensibilities were horrified when my parents brought in a tray of crabs and began cracking open and eating them by hand, "Oh, no no no... I can't eat them like that! I was expecting some sort of crabcake." My dad laughs heartily with a sense of pride knowing that our down n' dirty ways are not everyone's (especially that Englishman) cup of tea. Now that my wife has mastered the techniques of opening a crab, my father has moved on to showing her how filipinos eat rice with their hand. I personally start ignoring the rice once I get to my 8th or 9th crab. The only problem with our method of eating is that you never know when you're full ... until its too late.

Its been nearly a week, and my wife and I have finally finished all the leftover crabmeat! I'm done till next summer!


Find It