In an effort to dissuade people from eating stuff I like, let me stress emphatically that crabs are very close relatives of spiders. Big hairy venomous spiders. Please stay away from them. They're space aliens. All mine.
Dungeness crab season looks to be a bust this year. Rock crabs, not as desireable, are available, but your heathen feeding fests basking in shells and crab goo may be on hold.
Cioppino, especially if it includes crabs, can actually kill you. It's those trace elements of spider-like DNA, along with faint deposits of green slime from the bottom where the raw sewage settles. Drug breakdown chemicals, forever plastics, pink radioactive sludge.
Leftovers from the fast-food diet of today's Americans.
Again, spiders. Close relatives.
Venomous, eight legs.
Here's an illustration:
All of this comes to mind because I've had crustacean on the mind for several weeks now. Nasty icky creatures, arriving here from outer space, scheming to take over our planet one coastal zone at a time. Subtly enslaving the stupid human bipeds to be an obedient source of therapeutic mayonnaise and melted butter and sesame oil and tomato pastes and ginger and salted black bean paste and chopped scallions and a splash of sherry or rice wine and garlic and red, red chili paste, and hot crusty sourdough bread.
Lots and lots of garlic and chili paste.
It's therapeutic!
When doing the chili garlic picture I probably should have had more coffee. I kind of got lost in the swirly rubicund areas, and lost track of the shells and legs. And somehow I obliterated the claws. Each crab has two.
I'm not a food in the morning person. Three or four hours at least have to pass after that first cup of Java before I feel the least bit peckish. But crabs and shellfish are a good way to start the day. They sharpen mental focus, awaken all the the senses, and make crossword puzzles in the newspapers so much easier.
Plus you're alone in the morning and no one can see you getting oil and sauce, juices and shell fragments all over your face.
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