The Chesapeake Bay Region
The Land of Pleasant Living
By Sarah Hartmann
Natives of the Chesapeake Bay region refer to their neck of the woods as 'The Land of Pleasant Living' and for good reason. It's beautiful country- green, verdant, and completely defined by the body of water that surrounds it, runs through it, and laps upon its shores. Almost 200 miles in length and 25 miles wide at some points, the Chesapeake Bay is the largest and most bountiful estuary in the United States. Its countless acres of tidal marshes and wetlands are home to huge varieties of plant and animal life; its waters a breeding ground and haven for oysters, clams, rockfish, blue fish, sea trout, catfish, croaker, flounder, perch, and of course, the inimitable blue crab.
Dubbed "beautiful swimmers" by the watermen whose lives depend on how efficiently they can catch them and
how well they can protect them from being over fished, Callinectes sapidus or the blue crab, while not
anywhere near the only food the Chesapeake region is noted for, most certainly is the most famous and revered.
Indeed, to anyone who has been raised in the region, nothing, absolutely nothing, can come close to the blue
crab. It is the one food regional natives long for, speculate upon, and discuss endlessly, comparing
various seasons' catch and market prices in much the same way baseball junkies linger over players' stats and
team box scores. It is both down home cooking and elegant cuisine, a day's sport and an evening's
gastronomic delight. And nowhere is it done better than at the backyard feasts, the town festivals, the crab
houses, and restaurants that dot the landscape from Baltimore to Maryland's Eastern Shore and all the way
down the bay to Virginia's tidewater region.
While the true waterman is probably as well versed with the habits of the blue crab as that of his own wife, most people need only know this: Crabs (at least the soft shells) start hitting the market sometime in May; the best crab dishes tend to be the simplest, and crab feasts, which are marathon events, are, without a doubt, the best way to enjoy the beast. The true regional crab feast begins with the cooking. Chesapeake Bay blue crabs are to be steamed live, never boiled, doused liberally with Old Bay Seasoning (a spicy blend that originated in Baltimore), and then dumped by the dozens on a picnic table covered with brown paper or newspaper. After that, it's up to the picker, and methodology counts.
The veteran picker has at the ready a crab mallet (for cracking the claws), a knife (small kitchen paring knives are perfect), and a cold can of beer (to keep the good times rolling). Then he chooses a crab but not quickly. Instead, the true vet will pass his hand over several of the critters, picking them up and hefting them a bit for weight. The heavier they feel, the meatier they will be. He chooses the heaviest one he can find, takes a swig of beer, and commences to remove the legs. If he does so carefully and at the joint closest to the body, he will often be rewarded with large pieces of lump and back fin meat that he can simply pull off the tip of the leg with his teeth. He will then discard all legs other than the claws, which he can crack now or save till later. Next, he will flip the crab onto its back and use his paring knife to pry up the apron and pop off the shell. From there, he will remove the lungs or gills, scrape out the "mustard" and fat (some true down-homers eat the stuff, considering it nothing less than nectar of the gods), and crack the crab in half. At this point, the picking begins in earnest, but the vet knows how to do it, using his paring knife expertly to expose and devour every single chamber of meat.
If the process sounds too time-consuming and difficult, it is probably because you haven't been weaned on the activity. For in the bay region, any child of five can accomplish the task quickly and effectively. But if you're willing to learn, most natives will be more than happy to mentor a newcomer, especially if he is willing to accept some of the good-natured ribbing that will accompany the exercise. Conviviality and good fun are a large part of the crab feast, which tends to grow a tad more raucous (but still family oriented) as the event wears on and the beers continue to flow. This last is simply part and parcel of the event. You can certainly drink anything you want with crabs, but beer is the traditional beverage and, in truth, something about a cold, crisp brew washing down spicy morsels of steamed crab on a hot, humid day is thoroughly mesmerizing, even for die-hard wine drinkers or self-proclaimed teetotalers.
Outright inebriation is seldom a problem at crab feasts, however, because generally there is more to eat than the main attraction. Most crab feasts offer plenty of side dishes, (typical picnic fare like coleslaws and potato salads), but there are regional staples as well. Sweet corn, roasted on the grill in its husk or steamed with the crabs in the same pot, as well as sliced Maryland tomatoes, fresh from the garden, and grilled chicken (Frank Perdue did, after all, begin his chicken enterprise on Maryland's Eastern Shore) all find their way to the typical crab feast. And while dessert is seldom expected or even required by the feasters, most would agree that the best choice to top it all off would be homemade shortcake topped with vine-ripened Eastern Shore strawberries, so sweet and flavorful that they almost mock what one finds in the supermarkets, despite their grand size.
And here's the best part: Hours later, when every feaster has picked more crabs than he ever thought humanly possible, his appetite sated, his thirst pleasantly quaffed with just enough beers so that all that lingers is a gentle buzz, clean up is a snap. It requires little more than a number of willing hands to help roll up the mess inside the newspapers that covered the tables and several large garbage cans in which to toss it all. By this time, the crowd has dwindled, the sun has set, and now it's time to find a comfortable chair on the porch, take in the night air, and enjoy one last leisurely beer.
For more information on the Chesapeake Bay Region:
Activities in the Chesapeake Bay Region
Chesapeakebay.com
Chesapeake Bay: The Most Productive and Complex Ecosystem
About the Author:
Sarah Hartmann is a local journalist and regional writer. Her work appears regularly in numerous print publications and ezines. She is co-authoring a cook/keepsake book, but feels her best credential for the above article is her experience with and love for Chesapeake Bay cuisine, especially the "beautiful swimmers."
The Land of Pleasant Living
By Sarah Hartmann
Natives of the Chesapeake Bay region refer to their neck of the woods as 'The Land of Pleasant Living' and for good reason. It's beautiful country- green, verdant, and completely defined by the body of water that surrounds it, runs through it, and laps upon its shores. Almost 200 miles in length and 25 miles wide at some points, the Chesapeake Bay is the largest and most bountiful estuary in the United States. Its countless acres of tidal marshes and wetlands are home to huge varieties of plant and animal life; its waters a breeding ground and haven for oysters, clams, rockfish, blue fish, sea trout, catfish, croaker, flounder, perch, and of course, the inimitable blue crab.
Dubbed "beautiful swimmers" by the watermen whose lives depend on how efficiently they can catch them and
how well they can protect them from being over fished, Callinectes sapidus or the blue crab, while not
anywhere near the only food the Chesapeake region is noted for, most certainly is the most famous and revered.
Indeed, to anyone who has been raised in the region, nothing, absolutely nothing, can come close to the blue
crab. It is the one food regional natives long for, speculate upon, and discuss endlessly, comparing
various seasons' catch and market prices in much the same way baseball junkies linger over players' stats and
team box scores. It is both down home cooking and elegant cuisine, a day's sport and an evening's
gastronomic delight. And nowhere is it done better than at the backyard feasts, the town festivals, the crab
houses, and restaurants that dot the landscape from Baltimore to Maryland's Eastern Shore and all the way
down the bay to Virginia's tidewater region.
While the true waterman is probably as well versed with the habits of the blue crab as that of his own wife, most people need only know this: Crabs (at least the soft shells) start hitting the market sometime in May; the best crab dishes tend to be the simplest, and crab feasts, which are marathon events, are, without a doubt, the best way to enjoy the beast. The true regional crab feast begins with the cooking. Chesapeake Bay blue crabs are to be steamed live, never boiled, doused liberally with Old Bay Seasoning (a spicy blend that originated in Baltimore), and then dumped by the dozens on a picnic table covered with brown paper or newspaper. After that, it's up to the picker, and methodology counts.
The veteran picker has at the ready a crab mallet (for cracking the claws), a knife (small kitchen paring knives are perfect), and a cold can of beer (to keep the good times rolling). Then he chooses a crab but not quickly. Instead, the true vet will pass his hand over several of the critters, picking them up and hefting them a bit for weight. The heavier they feel, the meatier they will be. He chooses the heaviest one he can find, takes a swig of beer, and commences to remove the legs. If he does so carefully and at the joint closest to the body, he will often be rewarded with large pieces of lump and back fin meat that he can simply pull off the tip of the leg with his teeth. He will then discard all legs other than the claws, which he can crack now or save till later. Next, he will flip the crab onto its back and use his paring knife to pry up the apron and pop off the shell. From there, he will remove the lungs or gills, scrape out the "mustard" and fat (some true down-homers eat the stuff, considering it nothing less than nectar of the gods), and crack the crab in half. At this point, the picking begins in earnest, but the vet knows how to do it, using his paring knife expertly to expose and devour every single chamber of meat.
If the process sounds too time-consuming and difficult, it is probably because you haven't been weaned on the activity. For in the bay region, any child of five can accomplish the task quickly and effectively. But if you're willing to learn, most natives will be more than happy to mentor a newcomer, especially if he is willing to accept some of the good-natured ribbing that will accompany the exercise. Conviviality and good fun are a large part of the crab feast, which tends to grow a tad more raucous (but still family oriented) as the event wears on and the beers continue to flow. This last is simply part and parcel of the event. You can certainly drink anything you want with crabs, but beer is the traditional beverage and, in truth, something about a cold, crisp brew washing down spicy morsels of steamed crab on a hot, humid day is thoroughly mesmerizing, even for die-hard wine drinkers or self-proclaimed teetotalers.
Outright inebriation is seldom a problem at crab feasts, however, because generally there is more to eat than the main attraction. Most crab feasts offer plenty of side dishes, (typical picnic fare like coleslaws and potato salads), but there are regional staples as well. Sweet corn, roasted on the grill in its husk or steamed with the crabs in the same pot, as well as sliced Maryland tomatoes, fresh from the garden, and grilled chicken (Frank Perdue did, after all, begin his chicken enterprise on Maryland's Eastern Shore) all find their way to the typical crab feast. And while dessert is seldom expected or even required by the feasters, most would agree that the best choice to top it all off would be homemade shortcake topped with vine-ripened Eastern Shore strawberries, so sweet and flavorful that they almost mock what one finds in the supermarkets, despite their grand size.
And here's the best part: Hours later, when every feaster has picked more crabs than he ever thought humanly possible, his appetite sated, his thirst pleasantly quaffed with just enough beers so that all that lingers is a gentle buzz, clean up is a snap. It requires little more than a number of willing hands to help roll up the mess inside the newspapers that covered the tables and several large garbage cans in which to toss it all. By this time, the crowd has dwindled, the sun has set, and now it's time to find a comfortable chair on the porch, take in the night air, and enjoy one last leisurely beer.
For more information on the Chesapeake Bay Region:
Activities in the Chesapeake Bay Region
Chesapeakebay.com
Chesapeake Bay: The Most Productive and Complex Ecosystem
About the Author:
Sarah Hartmann is a local journalist and regional writer. Her work appears regularly in numerous print publications and ezines. She is co-authoring a cook/keepsake book, but feels her best credential for the above article is her experience with and love for Chesapeake Bay cuisine, especially the "beautiful swimmers."
