From Head to Roe By Sarah Baird
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urprising friends with a new culinary delight ranks among life’s greatest pleasures for me. The thrill of vicarious discovery as they go from “I’m not so sure about this!” to grabbing a third, fourth and fifth enthusiastic bite is like reliving my own first time eating the delicacy all over again. Recently, I’ve been introducing as many people as I can to the mild, earthy flavors of Louisiana paddlefish “caviar,” gushing about why tinned Spanish sardines are mind-expandingly unctuous, and offering up the glittering, orange-hued jewels known as crab fat and roe at every family gathering. Formally known as crab tomalley — the “guts” of the crab, if you will — crab fat is the sweet-meets-briny, gelatinous and ultra-rich innards that too many home cooks (and even chefs) have long overlooked, discarding it into oblivion when they should have been serving it up at a premium on gilded shells. Perhaps most precious of all these jiggly insides is the crab roe, which appears seasonally as pinprick-sized, bubble-like egg bundles in female crabs and, depending on who you ask, could put any fine Russian caviar to shame. “Crab fat and crab roe are basically the same thing,” says Isaac Toups, owner of Toups’ Meatery in New Orleans and author of 2018’s Chasing the Gator: Isaac Toups and the New Cajun Cooking. “You can buy it, or you can harvest it yourself. Just crack open the carapace of a female crab and look for the golden nuggets. My mama likes crab roe better than the meat!” And while, like Toups’ mama, I would count myself among the minority of diners who prefer the more viscous entrails of most seafood to the actual meat itself, cracking open the carapace (read: exterior shell on a crab’s back) and rummaging around for the gem-like pocket of roe inside a crab’s body is a little easier said than done for those of us who haven’t
been treasure hunting for the stuff since childhood. But if you’re dedicated to going completely sea-to-plate — and getting your hands as dirty as possible along the way — there are a few tricks to remember for this labor-intensive extraction process. Some people suggest boiling your crabs before attempting to remove the roe to make the carapace easier to remove. However, doing this runs the risk of making the crab fat you’re after congeal into a goopy, not-sotasty lump, so try to work raw if you can. Also, understand what you don’t want. While most of the unfamiliar parts of the crab’s interior are edible and delicious, the feather-like gills (or “lungs”) along the body’s interior are not for snacking. (An old wives’ tale posits that they’re toxic, but they just taste bad.) What will make your life a little easier is setting aside a small bowl dedicated to the crab tomalley before starting to work with the crabs; this keeps the messy situation more contained. After putting your freshly purchased crab to “sleep” humanely, use a sharp kitchen knife to cut out the triangle-shaped section colloquially known as the “apron” from the crab’s belly. (This makes the carapace easier to remove.) Then, it’s showtime. Place your thumbs on either side of the crab’s top shell and, approaching from the back — that’s the side without the big front claws — muster up all the hand strength you have to pop the shell right off. (Typically, this works, but if you need to use an instrument like a knife to help, there’s no shame.) Underneath the carapace, like opening a chest full of gold, you’ll
“To me, the best thing to do with crab fat or roe is to make crab fat butter. It really freezes well,” says Toups. “You can then pull it out when you want and use it for crab fat rice, which I always love, especially with couvillion. It’s also great to use for roasting oysters.” ©NOLA.COM | THE TIMES-PICAYUNE W W W. R O U S E S . C O M
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