FOOD & FAMILY
The Best Way to Spice Up Your Life
When you’re hot, you’re hot
As a Native Texan, I know from spicy. I’m the one who would be quite comfy cramming Tex-Mex down my greedy gullet for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
But I never knew I could fall so hard for a seasoning that doesn’t include chili powder.
We moved to D.C. in the 1980s. Just three hours from the Chesapeake Bay, we were pre-ordained to adopt the culinary tastes of the region. And that meant pink steamed shrimp, blue crabs and a little dose of love in the traditional red, white, blue and mustard yellow can.
Brooke and Moker from Texas? Meet Old Bay, from Baltimore. Make sure you’ve got a couple of gallons of water nearby, and a roll or two of paper towels. Beer won’t completely do the trick.
The first time I tried to tackle the anatomy of the Chesapeake’s native crabs doused in Old Bay Seasoning, I ended up with more of my lunch in my lap than in my tummy.
But now, I’m an expert at picking these delectable critters clean. And I pride myself at schooling the youngins in the fine art of crab-picking.
Let’s just say it’s a 6- or 7-step process, which involves dismembering a steamed and seasoned — with Old Bay, natch — crab and foraging for claw and lump crab meat. Tools are a requirement, including a wooden hammer and a small, sharp knife. If you really wish to get into the particulars of the crab-picking technique, this video will take you step-by-step. But I can’t for the life of me figure out why those featured in the clip can approach this super sloppy yet totally scrumptious task dressed so natilly and remain so clean.
And you’ve probably guessed by now why there’s so much corn on the cob on the picnic table in the snap above. Well, it’s because you’ll never get a full meal out of half a dozen blue crabs or so. The joy of this exercise is certainly the taste of spicy, salty Old Bay and the sweet, lucious crab meat.
But it’s also the wooden mallet, the knife, the picnic table covered in newspapers, and the Great Big Mess that a family creates on purpose while they scavenge the communal table for plump blue crabs on a beach vacation.
Of course, it’s the Old Bay itself that lends the taste of summer to any meal, whether that bounty is consumed during the heat of that season or in the dead cold of winter.
The McCormick Company, which developed the spice in 1939, says Old Bay is a combination of 18 different flavors, including celery salt, pepper, paprika, cayenne, mustard, nutmeg, cinnamon and cardamom.
So, essentially, Old Bay Seasoning is five parts summer, three parts Christmas, and 10 other celebratory flavors that remain Top Secret to this day.
The first time I sampled Old Bay Seasoning, it near about took the roof of my mouth off. Now I’m an Old Bay veteran, and spice up my life — and my seafood, sometimes my steaks, and a variety of dips — on the regular.
In fact, my favorite dish is steamed shrimp, pictured above. The best I’ve ever sampled comes from the market near where we spend a week every summer. We also pick up crabs, crab dip, mussels and other feast-worthy seafood, which all end up being slathered in some fashion with Old Bay.
Old Bay Seasoning is so well-known it has its own Wikipedia page. And that’s nothing to sneeze at — although if you inhale a nostril’s worth of this stuff, you most certainly will. Sneeze, that is.
We’ll be back at the beach in July, and most certainly will order a couple of dozen crabs for family who descend on our ocean perch. The only thing I’m a little sad about is my grandson D won’t be old enough to indulge in the spicy festivities. But we’ll have lots more vacations with the little guy, and if he’s anything like his Mama, I’m pretty sure he’ll be ready to take at least a taste a year from now.
I learned the other day that I should branch out as far as my Old Bay fascination is concerned. What about popcorn? Pizza? French fries?
The iconic spice would certainly lend a chef’s kiss to any meal. But I’m going to stick to my shrimp — and plan to get crabby this summer. With Old Bay, that is.
