Intended to be our last night with Pops, we organised for a delivery of crabs. Not having ordered crabs here before, I asked the lovely Marky Market to deliver 10 large or 2o medium crabs. Totally misunderstanding the scale of these brown little monsters, the delivery of 20 medium crabs which had claws the size of Yen’s hand arrived. Never have I had 32 kilos of live crabs in my lounge room, and I probably won’t again. Mark kindly retrieved half of them and we still had enough to send 15 of us crab crazed.
Crabs are a messy business. Both cleaning them and then later trying to extract the meat out from the shells isn’t for the faint hearted. And you need the right tools. We didn’t, so we used a small sherry bottle (with said sherry still within), a knife, a bottle opener, and a screwdriver – all to no real effective success.
The sherry bottle ended up being the best tool, and any attempt to maintain the mess to one small area was in vain. The following days were spent trying to find the source of the lingering sea pong.
Saying that, it was so worth it, and we almost regretted giving back the other 10. Almost.
