Catching hard crabs or Blue Crabs is more than a sport on the Chesapeake Bay. On Gwynn's Island it was an industry that sustained many a business and families. The Bay delicacy has been shipped to ports up and down the seaboard. Once steamed there is nothing finer to eat. No seafood can compare to the taste of a freshly steamed "Jimmy". (Male Blue Crab)
There are many different ways to catch a Blue Crab. Going around pilings of docks with a dipping net and scooping them up is one way, of course catching them when they are soft while walking through the sea grass on low tide is another, using a chicken neck tied to a string and dipping net is another, but the number one way to catch a Blue Crab is in a Crab Pot. No not the kind of pot you put on the stove, it's made out of wire, Crab Pot Wire, with a trap door where the bait, fish goes and an entry port where the crab goes into the pot to eat the fish and can't get back out. Recently they have made a hole for the too small crabs to escape!!
Early mornings before anyone else has even thought of getting up, Chesapeake Bay crabbers are on the docks loading their boats with bait and heading out into the cool morning air to retrieved their catch. Hours of pulling pot lines awaits them. Shaking their catch into barrels, and baiting their pots take up most of their day. If lucky they return to the dock, unload, sell their catch and head home for lunch around noon. Eat, mend pots, nap, eat, sleep and start all over again in the morning.
When we were little Daddy would take us to the dock chicken necks and string in tow. We would sit for hours pulling crabs up hoping to get enough for a "mess" to eat. Didn't want to cook only a few, and of course you wanted the biggest ones you could get. After an afternoon of crabbing we would return with our catch. Daddy would rinse them off and they would be placed into a steamer, with vinegar and Old Bay Seasoning, onto the stove and cooked until they turned bright red, an indicator they were done.
The most fun of eating crabs came on Saturday nights when Uncle Piggy the crabber in our family would share his catch with us. Moma would open the big table, cover it with newspapers to catch the mess, get out the parring knives and knockers, vinegar and plates. Salad and melted butter rounded out the table. Cocktail sauce was always on hand as well as ice cold beer and soft drinks. Guest, not guest, friends and family would start arriving around 6. We'd try to wait for Aunt Teenie who always came after work to spend the night. Daddy, Bunk, Piggy, sometime Willis would gather around the table first. Thel didn't eat crabs so she would sit behind the table in ear shot of goings on. Aunt Ethel would be in the nearest rocker, rocking and shaking her head at Piggy talking about how pretty she was. Moma would always have a big bowl beside her ready to receive the beautiful meat she picked from the crab. She would pick meat for those who did not know how, teaching all the while. At the end of the night she'd have enough meat for cakes or her Crab Muffins. Daddy would be steady picking and eating his pile the biggest on the table while Moma counted the beers he drank and gave him a "now David" every once in a while.
We'd join in the table after dates or going out. I loved to listen to them and enjoyed picking crabs out with the best of them. After I was married we go over on Saturday night to eat crabs. I'd put the kids to bed and we'd wait for Skip to fall asleep. Aunt Teenie figured after that we all could spend the night. It meant she got more time with us and got to play with the kids in the morning. It was a Saturday night ritual that I wished never ended.
This past summer we passed crabbing on to my grand kids. Jay got his little boat back over that he used when he was a teen to fish his own pots. Only a few in the creek, but it gave us a "mess" every once in a while to eat. He'd share them with neighbors who were on their docks on his way home. This year, Jay, Ethan and Faith baited the pots, and fished them, bringing home their catch for me to cook. Cleaned, put in the pot, steamed and cooled they enjoyed their first Crab Picking. It was fun seeing them enjoy the same pleasures I enjoyed at their age. And seeing Jay teach them about their heritage was great. Lessons passed on. Lessons learned never to be forgotten. One day they will pass this on to their children. And so on, and so on..............
There are many different ways to catch a Blue Crab. Going around pilings of docks with a dipping net and scooping them up is one way, of course catching them when they are soft while walking through the sea grass on low tide is another, using a chicken neck tied to a string and dipping net is another, but the number one way to catch a Blue Crab is in a Crab Pot. No not the kind of pot you put on the stove, it's made out of wire, Crab Pot Wire, with a trap door where the bait, fish goes and an entry port where the crab goes into the pot to eat the fish and can't get back out. Recently they have made a hole for the too small crabs to escape!!
Early mornings before anyone else has even thought of getting up, Chesapeake Bay crabbers are on the docks loading their boats with bait and heading out into the cool morning air to retrieved their catch. Hours of pulling pot lines awaits them. Shaking their catch into barrels, and baiting their pots take up most of their day. If lucky they return to the dock, unload, sell their catch and head home for lunch around noon. Eat, mend pots, nap, eat, sleep and start all over again in the morning.
When we were little Daddy would take us to the dock chicken necks and string in tow. We would sit for hours pulling crabs up hoping to get enough for a "mess" to eat. Didn't want to cook only a few, and of course you wanted the biggest ones you could get. After an afternoon of crabbing we would return with our catch. Daddy would rinse them off and they would be placed into a steamer, with vinegar and Old Bay Seasoning, onto the stove and cooked until they turned bright red, an indicator they were done.
The most fun of eating crabs came on Saturday nights when Uncle Piggy the crabber in our family would share his catch with us. Moma would open the big table, cover it with newspapers to catch the mess, get out the parring knives and knockers, vinegar and plates. Salad and melted butter rounded out the table. Cocktail sauce was always on hand as well as ice cold beer and soft drinks. Guest, not guest, friends and family would start arriving around 6. We'd try to wait for Aunt Teenie who always came after work to spend the night. Daddy, Bunk, Piggy, sometime Willis would gather around the table first. Thel didn't eat crabs so she would sit behind the table in ear shot of goings on. Aunt Ethel would be in the nearest rocker, rocking and shaking her head at Piggy talking about how pretty she was. Moma would always have a big bowl beside her ready to receive the beautiful meat she picked from the crab. She would pick meat for those who did not know how, teaching all the while. At the end of the night she'd have enough meat for cakes or her Crab Muffins. Daddy would be steady picking and eating his pile the biggest on the table while Moma counted the beers he drank and gave him a "now David" every once in a while.
We'd join in the table after dates or going out. I loved to listen to them and enjoyed picking crabs out with the best of them. After I was married we go over on Saturday night to eat crabs. I'd put the kids to bed and we'd wait for Skip to fall asleep. Aunt Teenie figured after that we all could spend the night. It meant she got more time with us and got to play with the kids in the morning. It was a Saturday night ritual that I wished never ended.
This past summer we passed crabbing on to my grand kids. Jay got his little boat back over that he used when he was a teen to fish his own pots. Only a few in the creek, but it gave us a "mess" every once in a while to eat. He'd share them with neighbors who were on their docks on his way home. This year, Jay, Ethan and Faith baited the pots, and fished them, bringing home their catch for me to cook. Cleaned, put in the pot, steamed and cooled they enjoyed their first Crab Picking. It was fun seeing them enjoy the same pleasures I enjoyed at their age. And seeing Jay teach them about their heritage was great. Lessons passed on. Lessons learned never to be forgotten. One day they will pass this on to their children. And so on, and so on..............
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