![]() The two crab are quite different creatures, both delicious in their own way. In the end, we decided those diplomatic folks from my Facebook post had the right idea. I had no delusions about changing their mind. This was an uncommon opportunity to taste them side by side in their pure and natural state, for a better understanding of what each brings to the newspaper-covered table.Īs the feast began to wind down, they wondered aloud how many people one of those big Dungeness could feed-two? Three? One average Northwesterner?Ĭompared to the delicate, sweet meat of blues, it was easy to detect the more complex nutty-briny flavor of the Dungeness, its meatier texture-which my East Coast pals liked, but it didn’t sway them from preferring their local crab. We continued to pick and eat, first focusing on the alternate-coast’s offering, then turning our attention to our favorite. As she put a perfect, whole piece into her mouth, her eyebrows popped up. Next, I pointed her toward one of the front legs of the Dungeness, noting they hold gloriously big pieces of prime meat. That backfin lump meat is pretty tasty, particularly when a native expertly picks it for you. ![]() ![]() Delicate, tender and sweet, it brought to mind eating a scallop. Lorraine kindly picked up one of the bigger blues and deftly went straight for the prime nugget of backfin meat. ![]() The blues were cooked without much embellishment, outside the customary Old Bay seasoning or similar spices, to better appreciate the crabs’ inherent flavors side by side. It took a good five or 10 minutes before they stopped remarking how big the crab were. The beauties arrived the next day in the nick of time, making for a grand unveiling to the audience of Pam and her husband Jim, Lorraine and her photographer. Mutual Fish Company came to the rescue, as owner Harry Yoshimura picked out three huge crab (all 2 ½ pounds or more) that had just come in from Alaska and shipped them out. I was flying east five days before hitting the Eastern Shore, so I couldn’t pack them with me. We’ll settle the matter over an amazing feast of both coasts’ prized crustaceans. (Serendipitously, I knew the owner Pamela Barefoot from my days editing Simply Seafood magazine we often featured products from her Blue Bay Crab Company.)Īfter some friendly whose-crab-is-best banter on Facebook (heavily weighted toward cheers for Dungeness with a few staunch blue fans and some diplomatically calling them both good, too different to compare), I decided to take some Dungeness on vacation with me. I picked it because of the size, location and mention of a dock with crab pots on hand, a near-guarantee of fresh blue crabs. I’d be staying at a place called Baytop Cottage that I had randomly chosen while hunting on VRBO. I just couldn’t let it go without comment.Īs it happened, I was heading to Virginia in a few weeks’ time. It was chef Spike Gjerde who made the brash claim in the Wall Street Journal earlier this year, a reflection made to accompany his recipe for Maryland deviled crab dip presented in the paper. By comparison, Dungeness doesn’t even rate.” “Our crabs are the sweetest and most tender. And it was a Baltimore chef I’ve never met who started it all. A friendly showdown to see which was the best crab in town. Between us were two piles of crab: three fat Dungeness crab facing her, and a mound of recently-harvested blues in front of me. Across the table from me was Lorraine Eaton, food writer for the Virginian-Pilot. There we sat in the shade of enormous walnut trees in late June, a cove that meanders in from the Chesapeake Bay just steps away.
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