Crab bake

(In relation to the previous post:

I have been told by the Trapping Man, aka, Miguel, that animals in leg hold traps do not chew their legs off. I already knew this, of course. I was just being sarcastic. But probably YOU didn't know this. Which is forgivable. I will not hold your naivete against you.)

One of the great things about living where we do is the fact that we have access to many different varieties of  wildlife. Beautiful rivers are only minutes away. Majestic mountains and timberland are just as close, and if you go only a little bit further than a few minutes, you'll be at the ocean. Seriously. How great is that? 

I'll tell ya. It's pretty great.

Earlier this year, Michael and the kids (minus Laynee) went with our good friends, the Hartmans, and did some crabbing. They brought home enough crab to feed our two families and then some.

You must know that whenever we have a get together with the Hartmans, we don't just eat. We feast. And it's the best food you've ever had! Probably because it's with good friends, but still. It's delicious.

Now.

Emily does not like seafood.

Not one bit.

It smells weird. And it's slimy.

However, I am learning to not be so picky. But it is a process, I tell you what.

The boys brought the crabs back to the homestead, alive, and we broiled them up on the back porch. And no, the crabs do not scream when you place them in boiling water. They just look at you with resignation in their eyes as you slowly lower them to their boiling death. 

Too much? Sorry.

I was starving and I didn't have much choice in food at this function so it was either eat or go hungry so...

I ate.

I liked.

I ate some more.

And I loved.

From now on, I will eat crab. But only if it is FRESH and HOT and at the Hartman's. 

The bake-off.

Dungeness crabbies.

Dan the man.

This is Toe-y. The many toe'd cat. He (almost) has opposable thumbs.

Thank you. 

Over and out.