Last summer, my then eight-year-old daughter came with me to Maryland on a week-long journey along the Chesapeake Bay. Though she’s not a fan of crustaceans, she accompanied me to sample blue crab at a restaurant in St. Michaels.
Expecting a mountain of claws with drawn butter, we were shocked when our waitress arrived with whole crabs — legs, shells, guts, eyes and all. Deena wielded her mallet as she wasn’t convinced her crab was even dead. In fact, it resembled Sebastian on The Little Mermaid.
Lucky for us, our waitress expertly demonstrated proper crab picking, thankfully removing the entrails (locals call it the “mustard”), piling the smelly mess on the disposable tablecloth and revealing the tasty crabmeat inside.
Eyes pinched shut, Deena tried a morsel, then gently asked me, “Do you think we could go out for chicken tonight?”
Here’s the article as it appeared in Budget Travel:
Tags: Chesapeake Bay Blue Crab, mustard
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8:13 pm
[...] A couple of weeks ago, my ten-year-old daughter, D, and I embarked on our third mother-daughter trip. We do this when the boys snore walleye to death in Ontario. The first year, we murdered blue crab Chesapeake Bay, and last summer we biked around horse manure on Mackinac Island. Since we’d studied all the way up to the American Revolution in school, we chose Boston as this year’s destination. [...]