Of Criminals and Crabs

My dad forced my brother and me into a life of crime when we were very young.

I remember him sitting in the driver’s seat of the Buick Station Wagon as its big V8 engine idled, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. As my brother and I crept forward in the darkness and looked back at him for reassurance we could see only the Salem’s embers glowing as he inhaled.

“Hurry up!” he’d hiss. And onward we’d scurry, hearts pounding, palms sweaty.

We’d hurl the heavy garbage bags of bloody entrails into the neighborhood park’s dumpsters, turn on our heels and run back to the safety of his car. It seemed like miles of ground to cross between the dumpster and the Buick. I was scared to death and sure that the cold firm hand of a policeman would clutch the back of my collar before I could throw myself into the back seat and lock the car door.

The dirty deed done and The Law averted, my Dad would peel out and race for home, quickly finishing the rest of his secret smoke before rejoining polite society.

“How’d it go?” my sweet mother would ask as she greeted us at the door. I couldn’t help but feel deep shame that all of us, even my gentle mom, were a part of this dark family secret. We’d been doing it for years and I knew it was wrong. But there was no stopping my dad, who insisted his kids come along for the ride each time, miniature henchmen to do his bidding.

My dad loved to fish for albacore and my mother liked clean trash cans.

Forty years ago the annual albacore runs offshore in San Diego were bountiful and my dad and his buddies would come home from overnight charter trips with dozens of big tuna. They’d divide up the catch and we kids would watch my dad skillfully clean his share as the coals in his Weber turned grey.

Dinner over, an impassioned conversation would invariably ensue between my mother and my father about how many days it would be until Trash Day. And invariably, if it was further into the future than the next morning, my mother would demand a midnight run to the park so that her trash cans wouldn’t be sullied by fishy odor.

Once their little juvenile delinquents had stealthily deposited the smelly fish guts into the Kate Sessions Park dumpsters, domestic bliss would be restored in our home.

I recalled these furtive outings as I stood over my kitchen sink the other night cleaning Dungeness Crabs. As I dropped the gills and shells and goopy viscera into a plastic garbage bag, I couldn’t help but silently calculate how many days until Trash Day. I didn’t make a nocturnal run to the nearest public dumpster but I did avoid lifting the lid of our outdoor bin for the remainder of the week.



It’s crab season right now and our local fishmonger was advertising strong supply and low prices--$4.95 per pound for live ones. So, Kathy and I cooked up a batch last weekend and served them with our favorite dipping sauce, a rich, spicy-sweet chile butter.



There’s no excuse for buying the crabs already cooked. It’s the easiest thing in the world to boil up a batch. I cleaned all eight in under 10 minutes, ripping off the legs and claws while Kathy, at the other end of our two person assembly line, partially cracked each piece and tossed the parts into a big serving bowl.

The crab was still warm when we served, accompanied by Caesar Salad and a couple of homemade baguettes.

Dungeness Crabs with Chile Butter

We usually buy one crab (1.5 to 2 pounds each) per person. Keep them on ice in an ice chest until you are ready to cook. Don’t keep them in a plastic bag—they don’t breathe much when they are on ice but they do need some air! The chile butter is divine. You’ll never go back to simple melted butter.

Bring a large pot (or pots depending on how many crabs you are cooking) of well salted water to a rolling boil.




Banish any squeamish dinner guests from the kitchen and drop the live crabs into the boiling water. Cover pot with lid and boil for 20 minutes. Crabs will turn deep orange when they are done.




After 20 minutes, dump the crabs into the sink and clean them as soon as they are cool enough to handle. There are ample directions on how to clean crabs on the internet. Here’s a quick recap from the Oregon Dungeness Crab Commission.

http://www.oregondungeness.org/cleaning.shtml

To serve, break off the legs and claws, give them each a quick crack with a crab cracker or nutcracker and toss them in a big serving bowl. Break each crab body in half and add to the bowl. Serve family style with a crab cracker and pick for each person.





Chile Butter

Each pair of dinner guests can share a ramekin of chile butter. This recipe makes plenty for about 8 crabs.

Melt three sticks of unsalted butter over low heat in a small saucepan. Spoon off the solids that rise to the top and discard.

Add:

2 Tbsp. ancho chile powder
4 tsp. brown sugar
2 tsp. kosher salt
1 ½ tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. dried oregano
½ tsp. cayenne

The chile butter can be made a couple hours ahead and reheated gently. Right before serving, divide the melted butter into 4 -5 little ramekins, ensuring that the ground spices are evenly divided among them.

Dip each succulent bite of crab into the butter, stirring up some of the spice. Eat. Enjoy. Bibs optional.

Pan Envy

Every cook has a go-to dish: something that can be thrown together relatively quickly, looks pretty, tastes delicious and is a guaranteed crowd pleaser.

Kathy’s and my shared culinary history is littered with them. They are the fail safe recipes we turn to time and time again until our husbands beg us to stop. There was the Chicken with White Wine, Proscuitto and Rosemary ladled over polenta that we made every ski trip. There was the Bobby Flay Grilled Tomato Bread Salad that wowed our summer dinner guests and repulsed our husbands. Chipotle Macaroni and Cheese has been the star at many a dinner buffet over the years. And as detailed in a previous blog post, one of us seemed to serve Café Pasqual’s Carne Asada at a dinner party almost weekly there for awhile. The recipes are so entwined in joint gatherings that we lose sight of who discovered it originally.

Then Kathy got a paella pan for Valentine’s Day. Later, a photo of her proud, smiling face posed over a steaming pan of the Valencian dish appeared on her Facebook page. Not only did she have a paella pan, I hadn’t been invited to its inauguration. A big guilt trip prompted an invite a few weeks later and a mild case of desire blossomed into full blown pan envy.




Paella meets all the requirements for the go-to meal. It’s visually stunning, impressive in presentation. Most of the prep work can be done ahead and the dish simmers stovetop while the cook relaxes with friends. The only challenge can be finding bomba rice and good Spanish chorizo locally.



I’m hoping Santa remembers to add those two ingredients to his shopping cart while he’s ordering my pan.


Mixed Paella (Paella Mixta)
Source: Saveur Magazine



30 threads saffron, crushed (a scant 1⁄2 tsp.)
1 lb. boneless skinless chicken thighs,
cut into 2" pieces
10 large shrimp, peeled and deveined
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper,
to taste
1⁄2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 oz. dry-cured Spanish chorizo,
cut into 1⁄4"-thick coins
1 tbsp. smoked paprika
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 dried bay leaves
3 medium tomatoes, minced
1 small onion, minced
7 cups chicken broth
2 1⁄2 cups short-grain rice,
preferably Valencia or bomba
1 9-oz. box frozen artichoke hearts, thawed
8 oz. fresh or frozen peas
3 jarred roasted red peppers,
torn into 1⁄2"-thick strips
12 mussels, cleaned and debearded



1. Put saffron and 1⁄4 cup hot water in a small bowl; let sit for 15 minutes. Season chicken and shrimp with salt and pepper. Heat oil in a 16"–18" paella pan over medium-high heat. Add chicken, shrimp, and chorizo and cook, turning occasionally, until browned, about 5 minutes. Transfer shrimp to a plate, leaving meats in pan. Add paprika, garlic, bay leaves, tomatoes, and onions to pan and cook, stirring often, until onions soften, about 6 minutes. Add reserved saffron mixture and broth, season with salt, and bring to a boil over high heat.





2. Sprinkle in rice, distribute evenly with a spoon, and add artichokes, peas, and peppers. Cook, without stirring, until rice has absorbed most of the liquid, 10–12 minutes. (If your pan is larger than the burner, rotate it every two minutes so different parts are over the heat and the rice cooks evenly.) Reduce heat to low, add reserved shrimp, and nestle in mussels hinge side down; cook, without stirring, until mussels have opened and rice has absorbed the liquid and is al dente, 5–10 minutes more. Remove pan from heat, cover with aluminum foil, and let sit for 5 minutes before serving.

SERVES 6 – 8