Crab Boil in the Creek

A couple of months back, lil cousin YJ and I drove up to the Creek (aka the WC) for a big ol' crab boil at cousin MCC and fam's fab abode. Here you see the loverly Dungeness crabs resting in the backyard, waiting for their impending doom.


We discussed the 2 humane options for killing the crustaceans—either stab them through the brain with a chef's knife or stick 'em in the fridge for 20 minutes so they go to sleep (an Alton Brown "Good Eats" tip). I voted for the latter method, but big D took a quick peek in the fridge and said to me, "Nope, no room. You're killing them."

Sigh. Of course, it'd been years since I'd killed crabs this way—I hadn't done it since cooking school. But I was up for the challenge. And in fact, 3 of the 4 crabs surrendered to the grim reaper with nary a protest.

But then we got to the 4th and last mother of all crabs. And it fought back. And then some. Holy crap. There were screams ... and laughter (of a hysterical nature). The dang thing was bucking like a crazed bronco on the counter, so much so that it fell to the floor. Big D scooped it up in one motion and held it down while I shoved with all my might and finally plunged the knife through its nobby noggin.


Ah, sweet success. We threw the mofo into the roiling pot of spiced water after the rest of its docile brethren.


It's said among certain Asians that a violent death will produce a bitter-tasting flesh. Not so. These succulent crabs were incredibly sweet and subtly tasting of the sea.


We worked our way through every corner and crevice ... mmmmmmm.


Love crab.