Throughout the year, oyster roasts and shrimp boils abound on our islands.
But on the Isle of Palms last Friday afternoon, sitting on a big, wooden screened porch I enjoyed my first South Carolina crab crack.
Before, I had always caught my crab dinners by way of a big, wire cube of a crab trap tethered by a rope to our dock in North Carolina. Stuffing stinky fish heads inside the center, latching it and dropping it into the ICWW, later that day I’d have 4 or 5 pretty crabs in there, enough for me anyway; poor Tim would get lasagne instead. I admit I’d buy lump crab to make my crabcakes, because when it comes down to it, meat already picked clean by nimble fingered ladies and packed tight in plastic one pound tubs is worth its weight in gold..
Here on Forest Trail Drive, however, there seemed to be crabs as far as the eye could see. Big bushel baskets contained their blue-shelled bodies, their waving legs frantic as if saying goodbye to us before their steambath metamorphosis to red shelldom.
In good company, I pulled up a bench and chose my crab and began the time-honored game of eating just enough to stay a few minutes ahead of the next hunger pang. Obviously not a fast food, I picked past the Deadman’s Fingers, (“My parents told us kids we’d DIE if we ate those!” piped up Mary Stove across from me over a pile of broken shells) and various entrails hiding the succulent bits of meat. “I don’t really like to eat them,” said Annie Rice, casually wielding a hammer in her right hand, “But smashing them is fun.”
About a dozen friends and neighbors collected at the home of her parents, Carol and Seth Rice, rolled up their sleeves and feasted on these freshly-caught blue crabs courtesy of the Magwoods. Peeling back the apron, ripping off the legs, cracking the body in half to display the colorful innards is so much fun. “What exactly do you call this, uh, this yellow gook?” queried Mary, her handling of her crab making it plain she was no stranger to the crab cracking tradition. No answer was offered up, so ‘yellow gook’ it was. And savored by many, but not me. I avoid the odd bits and go straight for the white meat. I shy away from the mysterious soupy contents of my little bowl which was once this crab’s back. No coral-colored roe for me; I’ll pass on the tangled white cord that’s in there, too.
“But the roe. It’s Lowcountry caviar,” said Bunky Wichmann, as he reached in for another hot crab adorned with barnacles on its back, his 7 year old son Theo eyeing it suspiciously.
The pace was as unhurried as the solid rain that fell. The brown paper covering the picnic table began to seep through with hot crab juice. Easy conversation. Strains of Bob Dylan. No lemon, no butter, no hot sauce, just crustaceans boiled up in spicy water off the back porch, drained and plunked down before us. Guy Mead and I casually gobbled boiled peanuts before moving on to the next crab. Every new person I’d meet I’d offer a sticky, salty handshake with an apology. None needed.
And Seth reminds us all during crabbin’ season that it is very good luck indeed to find a baby oyster inside your crab. |
First, attach a four-ounce lead sinker to a strong fishing line, about 20 feet long. You wrap the chicken neck securely to the end with the sinker and wind the remaining line around a stick. The next piece of equipment you need is a dip net with a wide-mesh net. The wide mesh is extremely important. You can make do with regular twine, or you can spring for a 25-foot, pre-weighted crab line with a hook to hold the bait in place; 3. A standard 5-gallon plastic bucket (if you have to buy one expect to pay about $8) with handle.
Take your paraphernalia down to the water. Good places to try are beneath the bridge over Breach Inlet or the Pitt Street Bridge in Mount Pleasant , which provides easy public access to Cove Creek. Some people say a sloping bottom, with water four to six feet deep not far from shore is best.
Peel off enough line to get your chicken neck out far enough where the crabs can't see you over the water's surface. Toss the chicken neck out there and lightly hold the line. When you feel the line jerking, it means one or more crabs are feasting and not paying very much attention to their surroundings. Very, very gently begin pulling in the line and stop immediately if you no longer feel the crabs pulling on it. As you draw the bait into shallower water, check to make sure you are not casting a shadow on the water over the bait. You can tell where the bait is by the chicken fat oil slick that rises to the surface as the crabs tear at the meat.
If you are very patient, you will reach a point where you can see the crabs through the water. You want to bring them to a point where they are only a foot or two under the surface. Pick up your dip net; slowly bring it over the water behind the crabs, being careful not to let them see the shadow of the net. As fast as you can, take the net and scoop up the crabs and the bait. This is where the wide mesh and skill comes in; crabs can move in any one of six directions in the blink of an eye. The wide mesh reduces water resistance, allowing the net to move quickly through the water, hopefully, faster than the crab. Seems like the oldest and biggest crabs are the fastest crabs. |
