Simone was the April hostess for the 2nd Thursday Book Club at Charlie’s L’Etoile Verte restaurant on Hilton Head.
There were eight of us, Beth, Yvette, Shirley, Candace, Tamela, Rona, who was a guest, Simone, and me. The other five members were busy with “up to here” obligations.
The book of the month was “The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek” and we talked it to death before ordering lunch.
It isn't easy to choose from Charlie's menu; the food is better than good.
But most of us have eaten at this restaurant since forever and have our favorites.
As usual, there were all kinds of seafood coming out of the kitchen, including soft shell crab, a rarity available only a few weeks a year.
Simone ordered one, so did Candace and Rona.
I ordered Flounder Meunière.
I have never eaten soft shell crab.
Probably never will. I shudder at the thought of eating the entire crab, flippers and all.
My idea of crunch is celery or potato chips or pork rinds. Not crab shells.
It wasn't long after book club that son Andrew mentioned it was soft shell crab season and he was going to take some people to the Oyster Factory the next morning to see the process. Did I want to go?
Absolutely.
I got to the Oyster Factory early.
Tina Toomer and her husband Larry are not only mainstays of this legendary river operation, but proprietors of the popular Toomer's Seafood Restaurant in beautiful downtown Bluffton. Andrew always gets a smile on his face when he talks about their sandwich made with soft shell crab, breaded and fried golden brown with its special sauce, coleslaw and fries on the side.
Tina was in the retail end of the building with long-time employee Tammy, who never blinks an eye when I come in and ask for three shrimp or half a cup of crab meat. That's what you do when you're cooking for one.
When I told Tina why I was there, she said she had been up all night babysitting crab and was heading home for some sleep but would get Jason to be my guide.
“He'll take you to the tanks and explain it all to you,” she said.
It didn't take long for us to walk down to the tank room, concrete, walls and floor, wet, open to the river with four wooden tables, each the size of a small twin bed, waist high, modified into open tanks by boards around the tops so they became shallow pools.
Clear salt water was pumped directly from the river in and out of the tanks in a constant flow.
And in these tabletop aquariums were crabs.
“As they are unloaded, the crab go into the first pool, the Red Liner pool,” explained Jason.
“See this little red line?” he said, and he picked up one of the crab, and pointed to a spot behind a flipper. I leaned forward but I didn't see anything vaguely resembling a red line.
I nodded and dutifully said, “Uh huh.”
“Well,” said Jason, “we watch all of the crabs very carefully. As soon as that red line appears, that means she is getting ready to leave her shell and when it shows up we move her to this next table, which is for the Busters.”
Those are the crab that are getting ready to bust out of their shell.
“See?” he said and picked up one of the crab.
And it hardly even wiggled. I mean, the crab I've seen always scuttle around and wave their claws ready to pinch the fool out of anything that gets close.
I might get near one with an extra-long pair of tongs, like when they crawl out of the pot of boiling water I am trying to cook them in.
But pick one up? With my hands? I don't think so.
I do seem to remember that Ray Carter could flip a crab over and rub its belly with his finger and it would get quiet, sorta hypnotized. At age 14, I thought that was pretty impressive. I still do.
I looked at the stupefied crab that Jason was holding, and a puffy part was beginning to come out of it. Looked like a Juvéderm overdose.
“She's getting ready,” said Jason, and put her back in the tank into a corral made of chicken wire so it was separated from the others that had the red line but hadn't started to bust out.
The third pool, the Backer or Jack Up pool, was where the Busters would complete the change-over, the emerging of the new crab, the bigger crab, the soft shell crab that now went into the fourth and final pool to rest for an hour or two.
Not any longer because the new shell would harden and become the feisty claw-waving Atlantic Blue Crab of our creeks and rivers.
The entire process went from red line to puff to whoof there she is, leaving the old shell and the lungs we called Dead Man Fingers behind. That part gets thrown out.
This goes on 24 hours a day for a few intense, grueling weeks.
The Toomer crew works in shifts around the clock, including Julio, who sloshed past us a few times carrying in oysters for the Oyster Ladies to shuck.
Jason said one of the names for a she-crab is Sally, and the male crab are called Jimmie.
Usually, to catch crab we used chicken necks or just about any stinky meat, even cut up stingaree for bait.
I'm not sure what professional crabbers use, but in she-crab season, Jason said that they bait with a Jimmie, the crustacean Casanova. They put one in the trap and all of the Sallys come a-swimmin’ at his bubble blowing call.
Jimmie is left behind to continue his seductive ways while the enticed Sallys are taken out of the trap and brought to this series of table tanks to do their thing and end up, still alive, passive, flippers folded, neatly packed in a box, and taken tout de suite to restaurants where chefs perform their magic.
Did all of this change my mind about soft shell crab for lunch?
Well, since the season is over, I have a year to think about it.
Andrew, thank you for calling your mama.
Many thanks, Tina. I so enjoyed my visit. Jason White, you are an excellent lecturer.
Larry, you said the crab are plentiful out there in the river. Oh yes. I can taste them now. Deviled crab, crab Mornay, crab salad, lump white crab meat dunked in lemon butter, saluted with an icy cold beer.
Bring 'em on.
Annelore Harrell lives in Bluffton and can be reached at anneloreh@aol.com.
The Link LonkApril 28, 2021 at 02:01PM
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Harrell: Soft shell crab for lunch? - Bluffton Today
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