Four bushels of these Chesapeake crabs were really steamed when they got cooked !Hit by paring knives, mallets and picks after serving,
the pincered army knew it was all over;
had no choice, went peacably
All diners set to their work with mostly mirthless expressions, mechanically splitting carcasses, tearing claws and sucking legs as they had done on the porch in Pleasant Valley MD so many times before.
They had these crabs right where they wanted them: On their table!
Too soon, all that would be left of the deceased Chesapeake crawlers would be a mountain of shells, precisely empty of contents. Done in by a crowd of intent consumers, albeit close members of a jolly and usually loving family.
The savored smidgeons of excised crab were washed down with many gulps of beer. A question of proper form. Some guests drank soda and ate hot dogs. Ha! They would have no hairy backs on which to shave the high school W!
Luke, of the hair, tears off some more paper towels with which to keep things septic. He is now the father of two boys. I first knew him as a toddler. When he was playing football for Westminster High a few years ago, he was a fearsome crusher. When among his loved ones as at the affair here he exudes gentleness, and only looks crabby at times.
Brother-in-law Jeffrey Means of NYC shows neophyte crab-eater Patrick Davis of Madison WI how to rip open the shells and get the meat. Patrick got the hang of it quickly and more than held his own with the 'Keep-Em-Comin' crabs.
Beer-drinking Patrick already had the hang of as a Wisconsinite................
And John Means Jr., father of the other day's Zach-the-crab-dangler, brooks no nonsense with his plated quarry. He wastes no time pounding the shells with wooden mallets. He uses his Means hands to hammer the top of the knife directly.
These guys are tough!
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