Crab

Though you can just shove the crabs under the broiler in this recipe, this slightly more complicated procedure works best: Preheat a large roasting pan in the broiler for ten minutes or so. When you’re ready to cook, put the crabs in the pan, adjusting the broiler rack so that it’s two or three inches from the heat source or as close as you can get it (in my oven, this means propping the roasting pan on top of another pan). The crabs will be done in less than 5 minutes. Remember that some oven broilers work best if the door is ajar, which will keep the element from cycling off and make cooking time faster, not slower.

Crab has the best texture and among the best flavor of all of the crustaceans, and the best crab cakes are those that showcase the crab most fully. So getting the most out of crab cakes often means putting the least into them. When you start loading crab cakes up with white bread, corn, curry, and complicated sauces, you might be making them different, but you’re not making them better. I usually serve my crab cakes with nothing more than lemon wedges, but tartar sauce and aïoli (recipes for both are on page 306) are both excellent choices if you choose to make a condiment.

We typically associate king crab legs with Alaska (and butter), but they are indigenous to the waters of the South Pacific as well. Down there, the accompaniment is a little more interesting. You can grill softshell crabs this way as well and serve them with the same salsa.

One of the most popular snacks sold at the famous open-air food bazaars of Singapore is a huge platter of fresh crabs stir-fried in a sweet, spicy sauce. You eat this crab dish, like many others, with your fingers; it’s worth the mess. (If that doesn’t appeal to you, try this dish with precooked crabmeat.) Remember, crabs must be alive and kicking (or cooked) when you buy them. Information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla) is on page 500.

This is one of those odd dishes that are easier to cook than to eat. Blue crabs take a lot of work; but they’re so delicious they’re worth the effort. If you live on the West Coast, you’ll probably use Dungeness crab, which will be easier.

Unless you live in Alaska or know a good fishmonger in the Pacific Northwest, it’s almost impossible to buy Dungeness crab that has not already been cooked. That’s not a problem; they can still be steamed, as they are here. This is a subtle preparation, but Dungeness is so wonderful that’s all it takes. (You can use lobster if you prefer.)

This soup has become popular in the kitchens of Chinese Americans in the past few decades. It’s best, of course, when you start by making creamed corn (see the second variation), but canned creamed corn—a concoction that Americans of various ethnicities and generations have long enjoyed (sometimes in secret)—allows you to make this tasty soup quickly at any time of year. See page 500 for information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla).

This is just about the best crab soup I have ever tasted, and it’s also the easiest. (One of the messiest, too; you must eat the crab with your hands.) At its base is miso, combined with go chu jang, a red pepper paste mixed with beans, kind of a spicy version of hoisin sauce. If you live anywhere near a Korean market, you’ll find it; if not, use hoisin mixed with Tabasco. Buy the crabs live and have them cleaned and chopped up by the fishmonger. Or follow the directions for cleaning them in step 1.

Like Tempura (page 91), the Fritto Misto batter and technique can be used with almost any morsel of food. An old-fashioned Fritto Misto might have bits of veal or other meat, frog’s legs, cock’s combs, artichoke hearts, chanterelles or other mushrooms, zucchini or other vegetables, pieces of cheese, and, of course, fish. These days, it seems most people—including me—like a fish-based Fritto Misto, with perhaps a few pieces of vegetable thrown in. I have some suggestions here, but please use whatever you like. Because you’ll have to fry in batches, and because it’s good only when very hot, it’s best to serve Fritto Misto as an appetizer and usually only to those guests who are willing to stand around in the kitchen. I don’t think Fritto Misto needs more than fresh lemon as a “sauce,” but you can use aïoli or even a light tomato sauce if you like.

A street snack of Central America and the Caribbean, empanadas can really be filled with anything you have on hand. This recipe and its variations offer several of the traditional fillings. Masa harina can be found at most supermarkets and Latin grocery stores. It adds a nice crunch to the dough, but regular flour works well, too.

Piquillos have so much going for them. Not only is their color stunning, their skin thin, and their flavor a near-perfect blend of sweet and hot, but one couldn’t bioengineer a better shape for stuffing. To precook the fish, simply put it in salted water to cover, bring the water to a boil, and turn off the heat. By the time the water cools, the fish will be done.

I learned how to make “summer rolls” in a tiny village in the Mekong Delta. I was not only the only non-Vietnamese at the table; I was also the only male. My pathetic technique was laughable to my co-workers, but I quickly got the hang of it. So will you. Rice paper wrappers, sold in Asian markets, keep forever. Their flexibility is truly amazing, and the simple variation will give you an idea of the different directions in which you can go. This is just a basic outline; these rolls can be filled with infinite variations of vegetables, meat, and even fruit, so don’t worry if you don’t have one or two of the ingredients here. You can cover these with a moist towel or plastic wrap and keep them for about an hour, no longer, before serving.

These are the crab cakes from the Faidley Seafood counter in Baltimore, the best I have ever had. Under the crisp outer layer of the crab cakes, big chunks of succulent sweet crabmeat were barely held together by condiments and what I later found out were crisp crushed saltine crackers. I managed to work out this fairly close recipe, since Faidley’s would not part with the original one. Rémoulade is a condiment that kept resurfacing on my research trip all over America. It appeared in Baltimore with the crab cakes, in New Orleans with fried artichokes, as a topping for po’ boy sandwiches, and some rendition of it has even turned up as a topping for today’s Big Mac. The closest Italian traditional condiment to the rémoulade is the aglio e olio (aioli—the emulsified rendition of olive oil and garlic which is used on the Ligurian and French coast). The French-sounding name implies some French heritage, but, then, the French played a big role in the founding of America, in particular in the Louisiana Territory.

This dish is especially good when made with live blue-claw crabs, but sometimes they are difficult to find. The snow crab—or its more expensive cousin, the Alaskan king crab—will yield a most delicious sauce as well. In immigrant Italian American fishing communities, such as those in Delaware and Rhode Island, this dish was made by the fishermen’s wives from the unsellable catch.

When in season, soft-shell crabs are a big seller in all of our restaurants. People just love them. We make a light batter, fry them nice and crisp, and set them over a salad for our guests. During one of my trips to Baltimore, I wanted to go visit Crisfield Seafood in Silver Spring, Maryland, known for its soft-shell crab sandwich. The experience was good: the soft-shell crab, nice and crispy, was the best part; the sesame bun and the coleslaw were the usual suspects. In this recipe I’ve added my own twist to the bread and ingredients. Get a good semolina roll, and top the crabs with an arugula-and-egg salad, an Italian American solution. If you want to serve this as a salad, double the salad and dressing and omit the rolls. Serve crabs on top of the greens, with dressing dolloped on the side.

When I ate my way through Baltimore, crabs were to be had in many ways. It was spring, and soft-shells were on every menu, as were crab cakes, crab cocktails, and crab salads. Most of the dishes had some version of tartar sauce, ketchup cocktail sauce, or rémoulade served with them. I got a yearning for a crab salad Italian-style, so, without much ado, here is one that evokes a lobster salad they often make in Sardinia.

I’ve often spoken of all the interesting and wonderful people who cross my path. Well, Wayne Brokke is one of those people. Wayne had seen me on QVC several times, and when the opportunity arose for a trip to Savannah, he made a special point of coming in to meet me. We had a great time getting to know each other. Wayne is the owner of Wayne’s Bar-B-Que in Baltimore, where he also does cooking segments for a local television station. When I mentioned to Wayne that I was writing another cookbook, he graciously offered to share a few of his recipes. They are Wayne’s Cranberry Sauce, and the following recipe, which is a five-time winner of the Maryland Old Bay Soupstakes Critics and People’s Choice Award. Thanks, Wayne, and continued good luck to you!