Early this week, I received a rather frantic phone call from a friend of mine.

"Hi, I know I only call you when I need a favor...", she said, which is entirely untrue.

"Do you know anyone who'd want a case of live crabs? Like, right now?" I was hoping she meant food-grade crabs. Not pthius pubis.

"I was going to send a case of Dungeness crabs to the East Coast, but that's not happening anymore and I'm... well... I'm not going to touch them."

I told her I didn't know anyone off hand who would want them, but that I would post an alert on my Facebook page, since I've got at least a good 50 food freaks on my friends list who always seem to be online.

I hung up the phone.

And then I thought about it for a moment. Why would a food person (me) who loves crab, turn down a free case of them? Oh, because he's a fool. And he was in the middle of enjoying a week-long battle with a stomach virus that had limited his food intake to baby food: bananas, crackers, rice, and Pedialyte.

I called her back about 90 seconds later to tell her I would be happy to take them off her hands, virus be damned. Besides, I had never experienced a crab boil. I thought it might be interesting.

When I lugged the case up the two flights of stairs to my apartment, I placed the box on my counter and stared at it for a long while before doing anything. How many crabs were there? How big were they? Would they be angry with me? Were they still alive?

I cut open the straps with the same scissors I would eventually use to cut open the crabs' bodies and, feeling somewhat self-conscious of that fact, I quietly hid them out of sight before confronting the crabs themselves. Inside the box, I found a wriggling mass of wet newspaper and Koolit refrigerant packages, not, as I had hoped, a nest of local seaweed, which I would have considered much more appealing to the poor creatures.

I counted them as I peeled away the newspaper. Eight. Eight really large Dungeness crabs. Upon further examination, I noted that two were missing their front claws, another two had a broken, dangling hind leg, and one poor fellow had had his eye poked out. These were not A-list crustaceans. I re-covered them, placed them in the refrigerator, and said, almost inaudibly, "Goodnight, crabs. Sleep well, for I shall most likely kill you in the morning."

And Then There Were Seven

When I woke the next morning, I pulled the box out of the fridge, set a large pot of salted water to boil, and examined my soon-to-be-cooked-alive friends. They barely stirred. My refrigerator, I thought, was too cold. I pulled them all out of the box and took a closer look. The littlest one which had, either by chance of packing or crab-imposed hierarchy, been found at the bottom of the pile, dead. I gave it a little nod and gently placed it in the garbage.

While waiting for the water to come to a rolling boil, I watched the seven surviving crabs slowly come to life, which seemed a waste of energy, given the fact that I was about to kill them in a matter of minutes. Still, it provided a bit of mild entertainment.

When the time came to boil the crabs, I realized it had been a very long time since I'd actively killed another living creature larger than an insect. I consoled myself with the realization that crabs are, in fact, tenuously related to insects. The classes Insecta and Crustacea are both members of Phylum Arthropoda, right? Armed with the theory that I was merely killing giant sea bugs, I set to work with an eased conscience. I very much doubt the crabs shared my opinion.

The killing was swift, but not the process. Two crabs per pot, boiling for approximately 10 minutes. One pot + seven crabs = forty minutes of standing around by myself, trying not to think about what I was doing.

My mind wandered to the other, far less pleasant to have, yet likely much-more-enjoyable-to-get, crabs.

A Brief Aside

When travelling the world in his younger days, a good friend of mine picked up a case of pthius pubis somewhere in Germany, which is, if you weren't aware, a country in Europe that is, ironically, noted for its cleanliness. Not speaking the language, but in great discomfort, my friend marched into a chemist's shop, took out a pen and paper, and proceeded to create a delightfully simple pictogram-- something very similar to this:

He pointed to the drawing of the crab, then pointed to himself. He was immediately given the necessary materials for proper treatment.

I have always admired my friend's straightforward communication skills. He has since come to make a good living off them.

When the slaughter was over, I was faced with seven big, orange-red, steaming crab carcasses. Now what? Now nothing. I placed the crabs on a tray and shoved them back into the refrigerator, where they would no longer complain about the temperature. I had work to do. I had a therapy appointment at which I proceeded to discuss the fact that I had just taken the lives of seven fellow creatures.

Upon my return, I set to work upon the crabs. Slowly at first, being rather inexperienced in the exercise of extricating edible meat from crustaceans. The scissors came out of hiding, as did a pair of pliers, and a hammer. The hammer made a splattering mess when used, the pliers suffered from a chronic case of lockjaw, and I was remarkably, irritatingly frustrated.

What the hell was I doing? Standing alone in my kitchen, I felt absurd cleaning the meat out of these damned crabs, but I was committed. I had a certain obligation to these creatures to see that their flesh was put to good use.

I have always thought that a crab boil was a social event, not one designed for a single man with a stomach virus standing alone over his sink. No beer, no butter, or Thai seafood sauce. Just a guy in an apron and a pair of cargo shorts with crab matter all over his hands, forearms, and apron front.

I was determined that, when I felt better, I would go to town with the two pounds of crab meat I now had before me. Crab cakes, crab and corn chowder, crab salad, crab ice cream. Whatever it took to use it all up. It needed to be shared, not consumed in solitude.

I placed the crab in a gallon-sized Ziploc bag, removed as much air as possible, double-wrapped the bag in heavy duty aluminum foil, and placed it gently in my freezer, where it sits awaiting better times.

I look forward to a day in the near future when I can share it with my friends. But how? In my little apartment, a full-fledged dinner party is out of the question. But small gatherings with cocktails and nibbles are ideal. Shall I make tiki drinks to serve with a Crab Rangoon? Deviled Crab with dainty glasses of fino? Or a much more plebeian and fitting-for-the-times crab cakes and ice cold beer?

Whatever I decide, one thing is for certain. I'm going to share my crabs, and share them with people I love. They'll thank me for it, I just know they will.

Feeling crabby? On the West Coast our crabs are the Dungeness variety, as opposed to the soft shell crabs or Blue crabs found on the East Coast. They are considered a "best choice" for sustainability according the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch. Dine at local restaurants in February and enjoy special crab dishes and tasting menus. Use your Signature Visa card and receive a commemorative cookbook feature over forty prominent chefs and restaurants, including Chris Cosentino of Incanto, Bruce Hill of Bix and Craig Stoll of Delfina.

Dungeness Crab Week is the second of three seasonal city-wide food celebrations to promote San Francisco chefs and restaurants. As a part of the celebration, the 7th annual Crab Cracking Contest at Union Square benefiting the San Francisco 49ers Foundation will be held Saturday, February 28. Union Square chefs paired with San Francisco 49ers and local celebrities will compete in a crab cracking contest. Enjoy tastes of the created crab dishes, a beer and wine garden as well as music and other activities for the entire family.

What: Dungeness Crab Week

When: February 19 - March 1, 2009

Where: Participating San Francisco restaurants include 1300 Fillmore, Bix, Delfina, Ducca and Jardiniere.

How: Make reservations

Enjoy this fresh take on crab, from Mark Dommen, Chef/Partner from One Market Restaurant.

Dungeness Crab and Asian Pear Salad 

Ingredients:
2 Asian pears
10 large fresh mint leaves, plus more small leaves
1 green onion
About 1 1/2 tablespoons lemon olive oil
1 lemon, juiced
Pinch cayenne chili power
1/2 pound Dungeness crab meat
8 large shelled sections Dungeness crab legs
2 French breakfast radishes
2 cups maché, rinsed and drained 
4 tablespoons Straus organic yogurt
1 tablespoon basil oil or mild extra-virgin olive oil
 
Preparation: 
1. Peel pears, core, and julienne fruit on a Japanese mandolin with medium teeth blade.  In a bowl, mix pears with 1 tablespoon each lemon olive oil and juice, cayenne, and sea salt to taste.
 
2. Stack large mint leaves and cut into fine slivers. Finely dice green onion. Mix mint and onion with pears.
 
3.  In another bowl, gently mix crab meat with remaining lemon oil and lemon juice to taste.
 
4. Rinse radishes; cut into a fine julienne and mix with a few drops lemon oil and lemon juice. 
 
5. Spoon 1 tablespoon yogurt onto center of 4 plates, streaking artistically. On each plate, set a ring mold in yogurt. Fill molds equally with pear salad; press to compact evenly. Top equally with crab meat; press to compact evenly. Carefully lift off molds.
 
To serve:
Top each salad with 2 crab leg pieces, garnish with radishes, maché, and tiny mint leaves; drizzle with basil oil.
 
Makes 4 portions

As Stephanie reported on Sunday, the largest casualty to our food chain due to the November 7 San Francisco Oil Spill seems to be the Dungeness Crab season.

As each day passes, more information is learned about the effects of the oil spill. While the focus of the fishing disaster has been on the Dungeness crab -- one of the Bay Area's most well known harvests of the year -- the Bay Area also depends on local waters for many other seafood crops. Most notably during this time of year the Bay Area also harvests:

• Mackerel
• Salmon
• Sardines
• Oysters
• Herring
• Squid

Oysters were one of the early victims of this oil spill.

Once oil drifted to the Pt. Reyes National Seashore, it arrived at Drake's Bay Oyster Company, an oyster farm that provides oysters to many Bay Area customers. Oysters, along with other types of shellfish, eat by filtering water. When that water is contaminated, the shellfish goes bad and is not fit for human consumption. "If we lose that part of the food chain, we'll lose the next in line," says Kathy Fosmark, the Co-Chairman of the Alliance of Communities for Sustainable Fisheries, referring to bait fish and krill. According to the San Jose Mercury-News, Drake's Bay Oyster Company has temporarily closed due to oil contamination.

I spoke to Ms. Fosmark and her husband, Steve Fosmark -- an owner/operator and fisherman from Monterey County, on Monday afternoon. "From what I am hearing, this is going to be catastrophic," stated Mr. Fosmark.

"Fishermen are coming down on the lean side of a salmon year. A lot of the people who salmon fish then do crab," said Ms. Fosmark, "This is the last thing that they need."

Herring is the San Francisco Bay's only commercially fished species. According to one source, a "possible recommendation to not open in December is being considered." Typically, herring season would be open by December and any delay in that season will mean a hit to the pockets of the fishermen.

Many of the fishermen don't even know any more than we do at this point. Mr. and Mrs. Fosmark were watching the same news that we have all been watching for the past few days, waiting to hear their fates from press conferences and the Associated Press and local news stations.

The frustration among fishermen is palpable. While news reports are of successful beach clean-ups and oil wrangling, the fishermen are frustrated that the real story of the effect on the environment and the fishing industry is not being told. "Excuse me but I must go puke my guts out," stated one anonymous email from a fisherman.

Chances that the average Bay Area consumer will notice a difference in their fish counter are slim. "We get oysters from all up and down the coast," said Brian from Swan Oyster Depot on Monday. He went on to say that they had to change their source from Drake's Bay to other oyster companies from farther afield this week. "But we're always going to have oysters."

I selfishly asked about the local anchovies and sardines, as they are my most common purchase from Swan Oyster Depot. Brian told me, "the anchovies and sardines come from the Monterey area, and as far as I know that hasn't been affected." Swan's buyers will purchase Dungeness crab from Oregon until the local harvest starts to come in.

The main lesson of the day is that more will be revealed. At this point, we know very little, but the chances that this oil spill could prove catastrophic for local fishermen are high. The main thing that we can do is to keep on top of the story, and support local fishermen with our dollars when they are able to bring healthy, abundant fish to our fish counters.

Updated, 11/13, 3:00 pm:

The Governor has suspended fishing and crabbing until December 1 at the earliest. From the Chronicle article:

"Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger issued an executive order late this morning suspending all fishing and crabbing for human consumption in areas affected by the Cosco Busan fuel spill until at least Dec. 1. The ban includes all of San Francisco Bay, along with affected shorelines, coastlines and waters of San Francisco, Alameda, Contra Costa, Marin, San Mateo, Solano and Sonoma counties."

Between November 7th and 8th, the Bay Area saw an initial and completely erroneous report of 140 gallons of fuel oil dumped into the bay by the container ship Cosco Busan gush wildly up to a disgusting 58,000 gallons. While lawsuits and finger-pointing are pending, wildlife and beaches suffer and, following a decision made on Saturday afternoon, so does the crab fishing.

On November 10, commercial crabbers from Bodega Bay to Half Moon Bay voted to postpone the opening of the crab season, set to open Thursday, November 15th. Larry Collins, the president of the Crab Boat Owners Association, is quoted as asking for "the immediate closure" of commercial and sport crab fishing.

While I, for one, will sorely miss our traditional Dungeness crab Christmas Eve dinner, the crabbers will miss that essential income more, especially since the article mentions that we crabovores might be able to get our hands on Dungeness from the Pacific Northwest. Additionally, other fish, like salmon, might also be adversely affected by the oil spill.

Some salmon fisherman reported having no problems bringing in their boat's limit of salmon from an area 13 miles north of the Golden Gate Bridge. While the commercial salmon fisherman are seeing plenty of evidence of the spilled fuel on their way to their fishing grounds, at least a few of them think it will be safe for their customers to eat the fish they bring back from non-affected waters.

From the article: "Robertson had calls from worried customers Wednesday night. 'They wanted to know if I was still fishing and if it was OK to fish,' Robertson said. 'I told them it should be fine, if we fished out of the fuel.'"

However, officials from the Department of Fish and Game are not necessarily saying the same thing:

"'We're assessing the situation now,' said Pete Kalvas, a senior biologist with the department's marine region in Fort Bragg (Mendocino County). 'We just don't have a blanket opinion on eating fish from the bay right now. The problems seem to be localized, and different harbor commissions and park districts will be posting their own warnings, as they see fit.'"

The salmon season is set to close today, and the commercial fishermen also voted to immediately close the sport fishing season.

The deadly effect on the wildlife is heartbreaking and the destruction is noxious, and I'd like to apologize to all the suffering birds and beasts, flora and fauna that humans are so goddamned stupid. Meanwhile, it's gratifying to learn that the number of volunteers exceeds the current demand.