A true story about one of Baltimore, Maryland's most loved "delacacies" --
Steamed Crabs - YUM !

The Crab Feast

By: Tom Hyland
July 3, 1999

Way, way back when I was a mere teenager (circa 1955 or so) my sister Rose had a beau who hailed from "Jersey", a Scottish lad name of Jim. On one occasion, Mom and Dad and I decided that we would treat this "foreigner" to a feast of our Maryland delicacy, steamed crabs. So Jim drove us guys over to the old Obrycki's Restaurant on east Pratt Street, so we could buy a passel of those critters and bring them back to 1710 Light Street.

While we were gone, Mom (being pre-ordained, as most Mothers are) had put out all the trappings for our feast. The kitchen table was neatly covered with yesterday's news, a place setting had been arranged for each, (oyster shucker, wooden mallet, and a goodly supply of unbleached paper towels) ... simple, unpretentious, but functional. Lastly, each place had a nice big beer mug, waiting for its user to pour a frothy head of cold "Nattie Boh" (root beer for yours truly, don'cha know). All was ready!

Upon our return with these hot steaming crabs, Mom dumped a pile of those big suckers onto the center of the table, expecting Jim to beam with excitement and expectation. After all, he had never seen such delicacies, let alone smelled that wafting scent of "Old Bay" seasoning, or actually tasting that luscious white meat. Let's face it, Maine may have their boiled lobsters, but they couldn't hold a candle to our favorite seafood. Anyway, with a cool but courteous manner (note that he was always a gentleman) Jim simply asked, "You're going to eat those?"

Well, let me tell you, we were chagrined to say the least. Our guest seemed not quite as enthused as we thought he should be. Naturally, as a soon-to-be brother-in-law, I opted to teach this poor unfortunate just how to pick these crabs. Now, I've heard stories about others who found these little red wonders to be repugnant, but we couldn't have this happen with our guest. Jim seemed reluctant to even touch these crabs and get his hands dirty.

So, good host that I was, I slowly and gingerly ripped the claws and shell off the first big crab, and passed the "fat" or "mustard" laden shell to Mom, who quickly devoured it. (Note: UGH! Even to this day I do not eat that stuff!) As I removed the "devils" and eyeballs, and belly-band, I explained each step in the process, so Jim would understand what not to eat. Meanwhile Mom scurried to the "summer" kitchen and returned with one of her good "Melmac" dinner plates, and I put the lumps of beautiful white meat onto the plate. After a slight hesitance, Jim finally tasted a large morsel of backfin, and seemed pleased. Aha! We'll show him a thing or two!

Well Jim's initial reluctance slowly changed to anxiety, then by the third crab, he was quite impatient with anticipation. Success was now obvious, his newly acquired appetite was ravenous. I couldn't pick the meat fast enough to suit him. Meanwhile I was only managing to sneak a few nibbles in for myself. When was he going to willingly pick his own?

By the time we finished that meal, I was beaming from ear to ear with pride, as I had single- handedly made a new "convert" who had truly enjoyed our crab feast. In my premature immature satisfaction I did not have a clue that ... I had been had!

By now Jim could no longer contain himself, and finally burst out with a beaming smile and a "Gotcha!" In between choruses of "Oh No!" and "You Dirty Dog!" and a few well-chosen split expletives, he explained that he had not only eaten steamed crabs before and loved them, but also had become quite proficient at picking them himself! The man who was to become one of my best friends and mentor just could not resist the temptation of playing this joke on yours truly.

Well, Mom and Dad got a real "kick" out of this almost Shakespearean acting job, and fully appreciated the humor of it. How that guy managed to keep a straight face throughout this performance I'll never know. But I, on the other hand, at the time felt "used" and not quite so enamored by the ploy. "There lies the rub" as Mr. Will might say. However, Jim in his infinite wisdom, gentleman that he was, then demonstrated his finesse and agility by picking some crabs for me to eat ... to return a favor ... so to speak.

Thus, the tale has been told, and "All's well that ends well."

God Bless you Jimmy Lad! and Mom and Del, and Ed and Dad, ... and all the others who have gone before us ...

As we partake of another Crab Feast in celebration of America's 223rd Anniversary of Independence Day, let us not forget those who gave us much, and taught us much, but mostly
... to Love ... Unconditionally!


Tom Hyland --- July 3rd, 1999