<p>A dish we relished as children was the rich, aromatic crab masala. We did not seek out crabs at the market, for they came to us through a crab-monger. The seller, whose name escapes me, visited weekly, fresh crabs nestled in two cane baskets dangling from a long wooden pole across his shoulders. A boisterous Tamil cry — Nantu, Amma, nantu (crab, Amma, crab)—heralded his arrival.</p>.<p>A select few in our locality, including us, fancied crab meat. The elders extolled its health benefits: safeguarding the heart, boosting brain function, improving overall vitality, and warding off long-term illnesses. These nourishing crustaceans were harvested in large quantities, and their tender meat was much sought after.</p>.Code crimson: Operation dinner.<p>Of the many species of crabs, we preferred mud crabs, with their black or greyish backs. This shellfish was a favourite among Indian chefs for its tender texture. Though crabs are often found in freshwater, they are typically harvested in brackish estuaries. Crabbing is most effective when the tide is either high or low.</p>.<p>The crab-monger would set down his baskets, crouch before us, and pick out the crabs huddled together. Then he would begin dismantling them. Frightened, my brothers and I kept our distance from the unsettling creatures but watched in wonder as he removed the legs, claws, and other forbidding parts. He would rip off and toss aside the triangular flap on the underside of the belly.</p>.<p>His hands and feet bore the wear and tear of his trade. At times, he would mischievously grab a crab and pretend to throw it, sending us children recoiling in horror. With their sharp pincers, sturdy shells, and tiny eyes offering a 360-degree view, the creatures looked almost alien. The crab-monger, a regular at our home, was also an engaging conversationalist.</p>.<p>My mother was a culinary wizard. Her crab masala and soup were so delicious they made one’s taste buds sing. She had learned to cook from her mother—my grandmother—a fine cook herself. As the masala simmered, its rich, spicy aroma filled the house, tickling our noses and setting our mouths watering. We waited with bated breath to savour the tender delicacy. The crab soup, steaming and fragrant with spices, tasted divine.</p>.<p>Unlike today’s eaters, who fumble with cutlery and tools, we ate crab with our bare hands. We used our teeth to prise open the shells, our fingers to tear them apart, and our fingertips to scoop out the soft flesh. Messy though it was, we revelled in the experience. The flavours of the spicy masala and savoury meat lingered long after the meal ended. I have enjoyed many crab dishes since, but none has matched my mother’s. Today, the elaborate and time-consuming traditional method of preparing deters many from cooking it at home.</p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
<p>A dish we relished as children was the rich, aromatic crab masala. We did not seek out crabs at the market, for they came to us through a crab-monger. The seller, whose name escapes me, visited weekly, fresh crabs nestled in two cane baskets dangling from a long wooden pole across his shoulders. A boisterous Tamil cry — Nantu, Amma, nantu (crab, Amma, crab)—heralded his arrival.</p>.<p>A select few in our locality, including us, fancied crab meat. The elders extolled its health benefits: safeguarding the heart, boosting brain function, improving overall vitality, and warding off long-term illnesses. These nourishing crustaceans were harvested in large quantities, and their tender meat was much sought after.</p>.Code crimson: Operation dinner.<p>Of the many species of crabs, we preferred mud crabs, with their black or greyish backs. This shellfish was a favourite among Indian chefs for its tender texture. Though crabs are often found in freshwater, they are typically harvested in brackish estuaries. Crabbing is most effective when the tide is either high or low.</p>.<p>The crab-monger would set down his baskets, crouch before us, and pick out the crabs huddled together. Then he would begin dismantling them. Frightened, my brothers and I kept our distance from the unsettling creatures but watched in wonder as he removed the legs, claws, and other forbidding parts. He would rip off and toss aside the triangular flap on the underside of the belly.</p>.<p>His hands and feet bore the wear and tear of his trade. At times, he would mischievously grab a crab and pretend to throw it, sending us children recoiling in horror. With their sharp pincers, sturdy shells, and tiny eyes offering a 360-degree view, the creatures looked almost alien. The crab-monger, a regular at our home, was also an engaging conversationalist.</p>.<p>My mother was a culinary wizard. Her crab masala and soup were so delicious they made one’s taste buds sing. She had learned to cook from her mother—my grandmother—a fine cook herself. As the masala simmered, its rich, spicy aroma filled the house, tickling our noses and setting our mouths watering. We waited with bated breath to savour the tender delicacy. The crab soup, steaming and fragrant with spices, tasted divine.</p>.<p>Unlike today’s eaters, who fumble with cutlery and tools, we ate crab with our bare hands. We used our teeth to prise open the shells, our fingers to tear them apart, and our fingertips to scoop out the soft flesh. Messy though it was, we revelled in the experience. The flavours of the spicy masala and savoury meat lingered long after the meal ended. I have enjoyed many crab dishes since, but none has matched my mother’s. Today, the elaborate and time-consuming traditional method of preparing deters many from cooking it at home.</p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
