I went up and watched two of the local great-grandkids the other day, and as I was leaving, our daughter handed me a plastic bag – “for Daddy”.
Two soft crabs, ready to fry.
This is a Maryland delicacy, but neither The Squire nor I enjoy them. When he first came to Baltimore, a dear naïve young man from the hills of North Carolina, a bunch of fellows from his office invited him to join them for dinner. The Squire had no idea what to order, so he suggested the others order for him while he went to the restroom. “Surprise me.” You can imagine his reaction when his meal arrived and he found they’d ordered a soft crab sandwich! A huge spider, all elbows, hanging over the bread. Worse yet, when he lifted the lid on his sandwich the spider was glaring at him!
Although I
enjoy hard crabs – and The Squire also likes those – I’m not overly fond of soft crabs, either. Mind you, I like oysters in any form, even raw, but no soft crabs, thank you very much. I think it’s something you have to grow up eating to really appreciate it.
Sort of akin to eating the lamb’s eyeball. Or escargot.
thisendoftheswamp 