Monday, April 14, 2008

Crabfests - a lesson in nudes and deadmen's fingers



In an earlier post I had mentioned my excitement about heading back home to Virginia Beach and our annual Crabfests at Hondo's Hacienda (that would be my parent's home). My move back home has sparked many memories, and has probably unrealistically idealized many of these memories.

I am not sure when the actual Crabfests started, but I have a vivid memory of when I was seven sitting outside on the porch with family members young and old as the flies buzzed mercilessly around every ones head while we picked, sucked on and savored the special creation that is steamed Chesapeake Bay blue crabs.

Beer or bourbon out of plastic cups for the blueheads, and wine out of the box for the parents (it was the 80's so the whole wine out of a box thing was still a novelty...and one, that I would like to point out, seems to be coming back thanks to Target), bowls of bay seasoning, newspapers piled on picnic tables so high that everyone was covered in black newsprint up to their elbows, bamboo skewers, a smell that lingered for days after the festivities, and ,of course, Uncle Elbert's perverted crab crackers.

These crackers were in the shape of ladies legs so you had to shove a crab claw all the way up to her nether-regions to crack them suckers open - at age 60 he laughed at them at age 70 he loved them. At any age, we all thought it was slightly off color to see an old man sucking the meat off these less than wholesome crab crackers. On Crabfest days, neither the crackers nor his air-conditioned hat(a old straw brimmed sun hat with the top cut off) were far from Uncle Elbert. They were as predictable and oddly comforting as the Crabfest's themselves have come to be.


I would love to know where those things have gone.

As the family has aged, the number of invitees at the annual Crabfest has increased. However not all of our invitees return for the following year because there are some strict rules (and if you don't follow them you will be ridiculed for the entire length of your stay at the crab pickin'):

-YOU MUST PICK YOUR OWN CRAB. You cannot sit next to someone more adept at picking and less afraid of the innards that you only to mooch off their crab bounty.
-You can't park yourself at a table and eat the small amount of meat that has surreptitiously dropped off the end of another picker's skewer.
-You cannot stand over a picker and shout, "This is so gross!" or "EWWWW!".
-You cannot declare that you are a 'claw-man' and like nothing but the claw meat in the hopes that you can do less work to get more yield. You have to eat the entire crab...minus the "mustard".
-You cannot eat your crab meat with tartar sauce or cocktail sauce. These are for wimps and hide the true flavor of the crab.
- You CAN eat hush puppies (or shut-up puppies) with crabs. The more the better.
- You must become familiar with crab lingo: Sallies vs. Jimmies, thumb to forefinger measurement, mustard eaters, deadman's fingers, chicken-necker etc...
- You must get messy and stinky!
- You cannot be my friend if you refuse to pick a crab. PERIOD! THE END!

I know this last statement may come as a shock, but I have invested much time and thought into the declaration. I have come to know myself well enough that if you are too prissy to pick a crab, that most likely you and I won't get along. The only acceptable excuse is an actual allergy to crab or having no fingers.

If you turn up your nose to a smell as natural to the Chesapeake Bay as cheese steaks are to Philly and hot dogs are to Coney Island than you are a sot. It's not to say that we couldn't be good neighbors or acquaintances, but not true friends.

I especially like the girl that unknowingly comes to the Crabfest in their cutest sundress or summer frock and still bellies on up to the picnic table with a claw cracker in one hand and a skewer in the other. These type of pickers will probably be my closest friends...because a true sign of my lady friend is one that can get stinky and messy and still look good while appearing not to give a hoot what they look like or smell like.

....and smell you will...for days after.

AND I LOVE IT!!!!!

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Who do I need to have fall in love with me in order to obtain and invitation to this event? I am married to a man that thinks that pickin' one crab is far too much work -- is this grounds for divorce?

Kristen said...

I'm so sad to have learned we may not be true friends. How can this be? I'm not sure if I can pick a crab or not. It does seem a little gross to me but I've never done it. I didn't grow up anywhere near where you would do such a thing. Can you reconsider your declaration? Please? Remember I know how and where to get your favorite wine and it doesn't come in a box! :)

Weasel said...

Quiltinista- yes, yes, crab picking is an art...so, we can give special dispensation to those that just don't have the talent...espeically those that happen to steal our heart. Trey falls into the group that yells, "just pass me some claws"...and I still love him with all my heart, but we joke him till he's red everytime.

Kristen- you goon! First of all, I know you well enough to know you would try. Trying is huge, and you would absolutely be able to deal with my father's ribbing and dish a little out in return +++ ,if I remember correctly, Jeff's allergic to crab. Right??? This sort allows you special dispensation b/c he really couldn't get all cuddly with you after a real crab pickin' session.
;o)

I LOVE the Hawaii pictures. Seeing you guys as the Arizona memorial made me tear up.

Dim Sum, Bagels, and Crawfish said...

Now I know the true reason for our friendship...I love crabs and your family crabfest sounds very similar to our annual family crab boils and crawfish boils. The messier the better! Glad you'll be there for the crabfest.

Megan said...

At my first crabfest, you picked crabs for me all the live-long day and I'm still your bff.

Weasel said...

megan- you dork! I only did it once. I had to make sure that you were accepted because I like you oh-so much. Little did I know you had already won over the matriarch (my grandmother) with your sharp wit. I believe you are quite an adept crab-picker nowadays...so you are officially a convert.