Dungy

Scott came home Tuesday night with Dungeness crab. During his week research diving, he had harvested some and managed to bring back a few. Nothing could have made me happier (although last time he came back from diving, he brought home 12 large succulent scallops, which also made my heart swoon; indeed, often the way to my heart is through my stomach).

We had taken Lota for a big walk up Eaglecrest so by the time we came home it was 7:30, too late to prepare anything for dinner, so we did what any reasonable person would do. We spread newspaper on the kitchen table and had crab and beer for dinner – a perfect combo. I couldn’t believe that it was already well into August and I was only just then having my first taste of Dungeness crab shucked straight from the shell.

Back in our Wrangell life, we’d spend a good chunk of summer our time shucking crab we’d pull up from the dredges of the ocean floor. With a luxury of a boat and a great big crab pot (and Scott’s knowhow of where to drop that pot), we always had crab around. As with most things we harvested in Wrangell, it got to the point where we would hardly even eat it fresh. We’d harvest, bring home, cook, shuck, and vacuum seal. Those vacuum sealed packages would go in the freezer and throughout the year, we’d try to find ways to use it all up – throw some in a quiche, a lasagna, soup. They were coveted gifts of my family in New York, who had to suffer through the hard earned satisfaction of shucking blue crab purchased from Chinatown. (I’m being terrible right now – I grew up on this very same crab and loved it. Shucking blue crab on our white dinner table in Chappaqua is the backdrop of so many happy memories spent with my mother. She used her circular chopping board as a surface to smash claws on.)