The crab that walks too far falls into the pot ~ Haitian Proverb |
Lucky for us, Meem and Doug picked crabs in advance. This weekend's menu included:
- Meem's muffins (bacon cheddar mixture on an english muffin, baked in the oven to savory deliciousness) with fresh crab mixed in. Superb.
- Crab cakes. Meem's mom's recipe. No filler, fresh crab. I ate it then died.
- Crab fried rice. Again, so good you could drop dead and be happy because you just ate it.
- Steamed freshly caught crabs supplemented with a dozen from Mr. B's.
Holy shitskies, people. Really. Everything was phenomenal. Meem is a fabulous cook and Meem and Doug are wonderful hosts. And they sent us home with crabs, homemade frozen egg rolls, and figs freshly picked from Meem's mom's trees. Oh happy day.
Also:
1. Friday night we left our house at 11:15 p.m. and had a totally bizarre full moon ride that was a cross between Adventures in Babysitting sans kids, Pleasantville sans time travel and Back to the Future sans flux capacitor. Doo doo doo doo.
2. I learned how to make egg rolls at the hand of the master (Mimi). Everyone who comes to a gathering at our house within the next year, expect to have egg rolls made by moi.
3. The drive home on Sunday was made in almost two hours of awful white knuckler rain, the worst I've ever driven through for such a long duration. Yikes.
And that was the weekend that was. Sunday night blues, commence.
Crabfully yours,
SMD
p.s. I cannot say crab without saying FRab. Someone's kid said that when they were little. Who was it?
p.p.s. I cannot say crab without picturing one singing.
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