Mise en Place: I Eat, Therefore I Am.
You are what you eat, or so they say.
If that’s true, lately I’ve become a crustacean. Specifically, a crab. Dungeness. Watch the claws.
Crab omelets with lemon-y homemade hollandaise are an affordable indulgence this time of year and an almost certain cure for 10:00 am Seahawks debacles. The other night I whipped up a roasted tomato and leek cream pasta with bacon and the meat from two 2 pound fatties. That hit the spot. However, my favorite way of enjoying crab is to simply roll up my sleeves and crack the shells with a rubber mallet on a cutting board, on the counter snarfing the sweet meat standing up, like an otter on the rocks.
My Tom Douglas crab cake cookbook is well-thumbed and slightly crab juice stained (note: this is a good sign when buying used cookbooks). The Douglas manual, small and slender, contains a surfeit of simple, elegant recipes ranging geographically, if not conceptually, from Chesapeake Bay to the Gulf of Tonkin. My best advice on crab cakes is to look carefully at the amount of breadcrumbs called for – you can usually half the recommendation with excellent results. Give the asian twists a try sometime, although the Maryland crab cake is the gold standard for good reason.
I wish I were throwing pots and catching my own fresh dungies, but that’s more work than I have time for these days. So, I’m a buyer. The other day I stopped at a little stand near the Purdy bridge, where I scored some absolute beauties for just $4.99. Messr. Fred Meyer had some the other day that were not quite that large but they were very fresh. $3.49 a pound. At those prices, who can justify eating hamburger?
Of course, fresh fatty crab is not the only form indulgence that the colder weather and water brings our way. Hood Canal oysters are primo right now and they are delicious in any number of ways. Expertise at opening oysters, like tying a real bow-tie, is something at which I take a small amount of manly pride. Serve them ice cold (the oysters), with a simple sauce of a good-quality chilled champagne vinegar, minced shallots and cracked pepper. The French call it “mignonette” and given their reverence for huitres, they get the naming rights. Clams are also prime. Steamed, roasted, sautéed, chowdered, or cioppino’d, take your choice.
So, on any given day, I’d be a bivalve, crustacean or mollusk. Still it’s all brain food. Or an aphrodisiac, which is food for um, thought.
One transmogrification I can guarantee you won’t see from me is into the chemically-cured cod product. That’s right, this Scandinavian descended food-o-phile absolutely, positively refuses to eat lutefisk. Will not touch the stuff. Just writing about is inducing a gag reflex.
Where I come from, lutefisk transcends simple status as a food item. Some call it the “Cod that surpasseth all understanding” but I think that is no more than a bad translation of the King James version. I understand that some people hold lutefisk in reverent regard, and that most of those people are somehow related to me, but I simply can’t get past the fact that a plate of the stuff looks like a gelatinous heap that smells like a bag of tube socks circa 1976.
Among Americanized Swedes and Norwegians there are multiple ways of serving lutefisk (Finns, their sinuses cleared by multiple saunas, will not touch the stuff). My grandfather, oddly free from dementia his whole ninety-nine year life, professed to love him some lutefisk. His was smothered in white sauce, which to my way of thinking is simply a waste of a perfectly good béchamel. Others (probably Norwegians) prefer their lutefisk drowned in melted butter. At St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Prior Lake, MN (on Luther Lane no less) they hold a lutefisk feed fundraiser every year, where they go through 100 pounds of lutefisk and (wait for it) 2000 pounds of butter. I kid you not. That is a 20:1 ratio of butter to lutefisk, which if you really think about it is about right.
Lutefisk eating is not nearly as prominent here in Washington as it is in Minnesota, despite the proliferation out here of Scandinavian descendents. My theory on this is that the smart Swedes and Norwegians just kept on moving. It is worth noting though that a Minnesota man, one Jerry Osteraas set the world record for lutefisk consumption in our own Poulsbo (go figure). Mr. Osteraas, who measures nearly seven feet tall, ate six pounds of the lye-cured cod product in one sitting. This achievement is so dumbfounding to me I really have no comment to make.
One of the more interesting methods of cooking lutefisk I came across in my “research” on the subject is to wrap it tightly in a dishtowel (don’t worry about using one that was recently soaked in bleach, it won’t affect the taste) and then put it on the top rack of the dishwasher. With the machine running. I’d recommend not using dishwasher soap, but you certainly could experiment there, maybe something lemon-y fresh? Personally, I have never tried lutefisk cooked in this manner, but the concept is intriguing. In my opinion, anything that keeps it off the stovetop and locked in a box is worth considering.
At the end of the day though, we all eat some pretty funny stuff once in awhile, so who am I to cast aspersions? Sometimes we eat for reasons other than hunger or even taste. Food is culture … at least in part. In that respect what we eat is indeed a big part of who we are. Some things we think of as food really function more as cultural artifacts.
Then again, some artifacts are best just left buried. But deep.
Creamy Roasted Tomato, Leek and Crab Pasta
4-6 plum tomatoes
2 strips bacon (or pancetta if you’ve got it)
1 leek
1 shallot, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
Mushrooms, chopped (button or crimini are fine, shitake or oyster would be great)
Splash White wine or vermouth
½ cup crab stock (substitute bottled crab nectar if you forgot to make stock from the shells)
1 cup heavy cream
Meat from 2 hefty Dungeness crabs
Penne pasta
Half the plum tomatoes, drizzle with olive oil and salt and place cut side up on a baking sheet. Roast in 350 degree oven for 30 minutes. (Roasting tomatoes with salt really intensifies the flavor and saves the otherwise flavorless tomatoes we get this time of year). Remove from oven and allow to cool enough to handle. Chop roughly, trying not to mash.
While tomatoes are roasting, chop the bacon and sauté in a large pan until crispy. Chop the white part of the leek and add to the bacon along with the shallots. Saute over medium heat until vegetables are soft. Add mushrooms and cook until they give up their juice. Add garlic and cook 1-2 minutes.
Increase heat and add healthy splash of wine or vermouth. Bring to a boil to burn off alcohol. Reduce to medium and add crab stock or nectar. Add tomatoes, bring just to a boil and then turn to low. Add cream and reduce until slightly thickened. Add crab meat.
Boil pasta until cooked al dente and reserve ½ cup of pasta water. Add water to pasta sauce and reduce again if it gets too thin. Adjust seasonings (note: you won’t need too much salt). Toss penne pasta into the cream sauce and serve. A crisp white wine with some nice acid will complement this dish.
Filed under: mise-en-place, General
15 comments
G geargirl January 22, 2010
Mmmmm, lutefisk.
John, it’s been years (years, I say) since you’ve tried this fish-of-an acquired-taste (not dissimilar to lobster w/ butter, I might I add). How do I know you’ve been avoiding the fisk? Why, by your description of its stinkiness, of course. Now, I do not reject food on its basis of its odor alone—strong cheeses come to mind. Or homemade sauerkraut. Pew, but delish! Lutefisk, for years, has received the same treatment from me: plug your nose while it’s being prepared, but delight in its subtle flavor once it’s on the plate. That strategy carried me through untold numbers of lutefisk feasts, where the pride of my Norwegian heritage was on the line. (By the way, it worked. I’ve retained the respect of my elders, the Norwegian flag on my bumper and the privilege of saying “Uff da” when the situation calls for it.)
Now? No smell, no stink, no odor, no problem. Really. Modern lutefisk has undergone a culinary revolution of sorts: Rumor has it that it is no longer preserved with lye. I don’t know if “Top Chef” made it to the far reaches of the Norwegians who live above the Arctic Circle and next to the cod-rich North Sea, but lutefisk has joined the ranks of non-smelly traditional food that doesn’t require swallowing your gag reflex to enjoy it.
I’m not sure that haggis has gotten there yet, but I digress.
My advice? Hasten thee to a local lutefisk feed: Paulsbo, Seattle, Olympia, perhaps even T-town, and give this jiggly little fisk another try. If you’re still not convinced, you won’t go hungry. Besides platters of potatoes—and butter to swim in—there’s always Swedish meatballs.
Vaersaagood!
T Tacoma1 January 23, 2010
John, you’ve made my hungry for some bi-valves myself. Penn Cove mussels are my personal fave. I’ll be having some this weekend for sure.
Thanks for the story.
M Maria January 23, 2010
Fun read, thanks for sharing!
Any advice on extracting crab meat from the shell? I’d love to make crab cakes, but cracking and picking through all those legs/claws is a roadblock for me.
S Squid January 23, 2010
geargirl: you had me at meatballs.
S Squid January 23, 2010
I’m not sure about this Idstrom character, but here’s how Squid cracks crabs:
Secure a hard rubber mallet at your local hardware store. If you can, have your fish monger remove the shell and clean out the guts from the crab. You can do it yourself, just lift the shell off and then get your fingers in there, being sure to remove the gills and gooky yellowish stuff. Then tear off the legs and crack the remaining body down the middle.
For the legs/claws, tear them apart at each joint. Now you are ready to start whacking. Place a leg segment on a cutting board and strike it with the mallet. Not too hard or you’ll have a crab-plosion. Once you have cracked the shells, it is fairly easy to get the meat out. A small cocktail fork is good digging out small pieces. For the body meat, just crack it with your fingers and dig away with the cocktail fork.
Idstrom is right about saving the shells and making a stock. Just put the cracked shells in a pan and cover with water. In 30 mins, you’ll have a right proper stock that can be frozen in ice-cube trays and used in any number of ways.
G geargirl January 25, 2010
Ah, Squid—did it really take that long? I must be losing my touch!
Cleaning the crab before eating it is a fine idea, but I have a morsel of advice that will either turn your tummy or turn you into a Viking: if you ever cook the crab yourself, clean out the gills, but leave the soft yellow stuff and eat it with the crab or spread it on bread, much like liver pate. I don’t like either, but the crab gook is called “crab butter” in Norway and is considered a delicacy.
My advice? If you try it, make sure you’ve got an open bottle of aquavit by your side, and a shot glass primed and ready. ;)
Lykke til! (Good luck!)
A Altered Chords January 25, 2010
My father used to use a “crab cracker” to crach the claws. He was good for a dozen crabs every Sunday football season.
C crenshaw sepulveda January 25, 2010
Crabs would be the venereal disease, crab is the plural.
A Altered Chords January 26, 2010
How clumsy of me.
A Altered Chords January 26, 2010
hey – Merriam Webster says you can either use crab or crabs as the plural for crab.
Back to the topic: Where does one go to try this lutefisk?
S Squid January 26, 2010
AC: Poulsbo or Madison, MN which the interwebs say is the (not undisputed)lutefisk capital of the world. They have a 20 foot cod statue at the city limits, welcoming tourists from as far as oh, Glencoe. It’s like our car museum.
J jamie from thriceallamerican January 26, 2010
I do believe there is an annual lutefisk feast right here in Tacoma at the Normanna Hall in Hilltop. Offhand, I’m also aware of one in Auburn. Not to scare you away from the waterfront hamlet of Poulsbo…lovely place.
M Maria January 27, 2010
Thanks for the crab cracking advice, Squid. This sounds a lot faster than my usual method (scissors, nutcracker, heavy duty fork, chopstick).
D Don Hurley January 31, 2010
John,
Your entry has a double booya to it! Stuck in Minnesota in the middle of winter and married to a Swede, i salivate over your description of what Minnesotan’s call weird seafood like clams, oysters, and crab. Meanwhile my avoidance of lutefisk leaves my relatives to categorize me as that odd Irishman from St.Paul. They simply cannot understand how i could eat such strange food. But thanks for the moment of escape. Reality is that I shall return to my canned tomatoes, canned green beans, and long for the return of summer when fresh vegetables arrive to this state again.
And oh by the way, it was minus ten degrees this morning. Or as the locals say, it was ten below.
Great piece once again.
Thanks
J John Idstrom February 1, 2010
Mr. Hurley: Ten below? Stay inside the ice-house my friend. Are the walleyes biting?