Big Crab Country

If spring starts with swallows, winter begins with crabs. Dungeness crabs, to be exact. They are among the very best things about living on the West Coast.

But my love of crabs began long before I moved to California. When I was growing up in the South, we’d sometimes vacation on the Florida Panhandle, where we kids could spend an entire summer day crabbing.

For the uninitiated, crabbing consists of tying a long piece of cotton twine to a chicken neck--preferably an old, smelly one; developing the best, meaning smelliest, was the object of many a boyish contest. We’d walk out on the dock and dangle the twine over the end into the bay, just off the bottom.

When a crab climbed aboard, we’d feel a tug. Then we pulled up the twine, very, very gently. If you moved slowly enough, the crab would never realize anything was up until it had nearly reached the surface, where you quickly scooped it up with a long-handled net.

Once we’d caught enough of them, we took them back to the trailer, where my mom would boil them. We’d break them apart and eat them on saltine crackers spread with mayonnaise.

Idyllic, yes. And delicious in their own way. But these were blue crabs, which are as mediocre as minnows when compared to our Dungies. A good-sized blue crab is 4 inches across the shell. The legal minimum for a Dungeness is 6 1/2 inches.

And then there’s the flavor. Put plainly: I have never tasted another crab that even comes close to a Dungeness.

For me, a plain boiled and chilled Dungeness is one of the world’s perfect foods--sweet and rich and complete in and of itself. At my house, we indulge in at least one crab feast every winter: cold cracked crab and the best bottle of Chardonnay in the house. There is something about a buttery California Chardonnay that makes it the perfect complement to a California crab.

This is the kind of meal that is best celebrated among close friends because it is so wonderful that it inevitably encourages maudlin ponderings about God and goodness and what in the world we did to deserve to live in a world where such simple pleasures are so readily available.

So when I was supposed to bring a first course to Thanksgiving dinner this year, I wanted to use crab--what could be more appropriate?

The problem came with deciding how to present it. Cold cracked crab is perfect by itself, but I don’t think it’s elegant enough to work in the context of a sit-down holiday dinner.

I thought about what to fix for a week or so. I wanted it to be cold, since I was taking it to a friend’s house and didn’t know what the oven space would be like. I wanted it to be simple, to show off the crab and not overpower the rest of the meal.

I tried and discarded several ideas before deciding on crab coleslaw. I realized afterward that the salad is a little like something Michel Richard used to serve at Citrus, though his was much more beautiful (he wrapped his coleslaw in a blanched cabbage leaf--a nice presentation, if a little fussy for home use).

At its heart, this dish is about a delicate matching of textures (the soft silkiness of the cole slaw against the firm silkiness of the crab) and flavors. Let’s face it, there’s nothing that tastes better with crab than mayonnaise.

If the rest of winter goes this well, I’ll be one happy boy.

*

Dungeness Crab Coleslaw

Active Work Time: 30 minutes

* Total Preparation Time: 1 hour 10 minutes

3 (1 1/2- to 2-pound) Dungeness crabs

1 large head nappa cabbage

1 bulb fennel

1 bunch watercress

1 cup mayonnaise

1 tablespoon tarragon vinegar

Salt

Place crabs in large pot and cover with cold water. Cover and place over high heat until crab turns bright red and white foam appears at joints, about 20 minutes. Drain and rinse under cold water. Clean crab, retaining pieces of shell for second recipe. You should have about 1 1/4 pounds of crab meat. Reserve 1/2 cup crab for garnish.

Using sharp chef’s knife, shave cabbage in thin strips. Cut fennel bulb in lengthwise quarters and remove core. Using mandoline or Japanese vegetable cutter, shave fennel in thin strips. Pick leaves and tender stems from watercress. Combine cabbage, fennel and watercress in large bowl.

Combine mayonnaise and vinegar in small bowl and beat until smooth. Add mayonnaise a little at a time to cabbage, tossing gently to coat lightly but thoroughly. (You’ll probably use about 2/3 cup.) Set aside 20 minutes. Add crab meat and salt to taste and toss lightly to mix, being careful not to break up chunks of crab meat. Mound coleslaw on chilled plates and garnish with more crab meat chunks on top.

6 to 8 servings. Each of 8 servings: 198 calories; 534 mg sodium; 58 mg cholesterol; 11 grams fat; 10 grams carbohydrates; 16 grams protein; 0.36 gram fiber.