A good chunk of my childhood was spent on the Georgia coast. By the time we were in late elementary school, my brother and I were so good at crabbing that my mom would ask us to take a break so crab supper wouldn't be every other day. A blue crab can reach about nine inches across, but the populations are in decline. We were happy when we'd get crabs bigger than six inches.
Here on the West Coast, the local crab is dungeness and ones up to eight inches are fairly common. The bigger they are, the easier they are to eat. Blue crab is my favorite, but Dungeness is a real treat. Last month the season ended, so we made sure to stop by Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco to pick up some fresh ones before that happened.
A supper of cold crab and hot clam chowder (in San Francisco sourdough bread bowls). Mmmm.
I am looking forward to teaching my son all my crabbing skills once we're living in Georgia. There's something so blissful about a summer's day, a star trap, a quiet tidal creek, and the promise of crab supper.
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