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- The Hermit Crab-
by Keith 'Robbie' Robinson
It
is one of my extremely pleasurable occupations to pursue great foods and
discover different ways of cooking, serving and eating them.
In this issue, I
thought I might draw your attention to a delicacy favoured by the French: The Hermit
crab, whose Latin name is Eupaguras bernhardus
Linnaeus.
In markets along most of the north Mediterranean coastline, one can purchase
good, fresh, shellfish. In Antibes, catering for a boatful of discerning guests, I purchased three kilos of Hermit
crabs, rinsed them well in seawater three, four or it may even have been five times.
I hate gritty seafood! Leaving them to stand for a couple of hours in
fresh, clean seawater, I prepared some chopped shallotts, (very small members of
the onion family) lightly chopped parsley, and chopped (not crushed) garlic. I
also opened a bottle of what I considered a perfectly drinkable white wine. From
the fridge I then extricated a tub (or it may have been a bag, or carton) of cream
and a half kilo of butter. With two
tablespoons of butter, for this was not the moment to be considering
waistlines or cholesterol levels, I soon had the pan sizzling. Before the butter
could even think about browning, I scattered one cup of the shallotts and six finely chopped cloves of garlic into the
sizzling pan. Before these could turn too brown, I poured half a bottle of the white wine into the
pan and reduced this liquid by half by simmering, not boiling it. By this time I
also had a large, deep, saucepan with four litres of boiling fresh water in it,
into which I tipped the drained Hermit crabs. Bringing the pan back to the boil,
I then instantly turned off the heat. Returning to the sauce,
I tipped one cup of cream into the simmering liquid and turned off the heat. A
maximum of two minutes after reducing the heat of the water, I tipped the Hermit crabs into a large
sieve, over a bowl
in which to collect the delicious bisque, or what would become the basis for a
bisque. Having drained the Hermit crabs, I tipped them into an elegant bowl and poured the stirred sauce over the, now brilliantly red, Hermit
crabs and sprinkled them liberally with the thickly chopped parsley. The seafood
was served as a 'starter' with crusty french loaves and butter. A variation that I consider too rich for a
starter, but ideal for a one course lunch, is to serve
this dish with hot garlic bread. Having eaten
the Hermit crab meat, from it's 'waist' down, the rest which would require a lot
of fiddling to eat at the time is collected in a basin. After a quick
rinse, these remainders can be reintroduced to the bisque base that was set
aside earlier. The whole lot goes into a pressure cooker, is cooked for twenty minutes and
then for eight hours. Now you will bring out ... but that's another recipe!
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Recipe for a Salad
Anonymous - Sent in by Thad Tucker of the S/Y
'Empirical'
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To make this condiment, your poet begs
The pounded yellow of two hard-boiled eggs;
Two boiled potatoes passed through kitchen sieve,
Smoothness and softness to the salad give.
Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl,
And, half suspected, animate the whole.
Of mordant mustard add a single spoon,
Distrust the condiment that bites to soon;
But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault,
To add a double quantity of salt;
Four times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown,
And twice with vinegar, procured from town;
And, lastly, o'er the flavoured compound toss
A magic soupçon of anchovy sauce.
Oh green and glorious! Oh herbaceous treat!
'T would tempt the dying anchorite to eat;
Back to the world he'd turn his fleeting soul,
And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl!
Serenely full, the epicure would say,
Fate cannot harm me, I have dined to-day.
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