Opening Oysters in Santa Barbara

My friend Mary Rose introduced me to the joys of buying fresh oysters from the fish market, then taking them home and opening them ourselves. Popping the blunt point of a knife into the hinge, then carefully slicing the attachment from the top of the shell. 

A squeeze of lemon is all you need (and maybe not even that). Salty, creamy, fresh. Though I love the way they do them at Hama Sushi, with ponzu (?), green onion, and a little roe, the satisfaction of prying the shells open myself and then slurping down the flesh is hard to beat.

American Cooking: Creole & Acadian // Gulf Oil Spill

I want to find as many books from the Foods of the World series as possible. I have the one pictured, American Cooking: Creole and Acadian by Peter S. Feibleman, and The Cooking of Provincial France by MFK Fisher.

Feibleman's prose doused me in the romance of Louisianan food from the perspective of one who had grown up with it. He has a delicious nostalgic tone along with the recipes and large photographs--traveling through his earliest memories of his own kitchen to the restaurants in the French Quarter, all the way to the bayou. He talks about glistening trees and shimmering water and eating po'boys in the rain, his lilting, lazy narrative easily evoking his New Orleans upbringing.

Leftover Crab, Part Deux: Crab Fried Rice

Ah, the fate of the rest of the leftover crab:

I could not pass up the opportunity to make crab fried rice-- it's one of those dishes I always order at a Thai or other Asian restaurant that always seems promising but often ends up with a disappointing crab-to-rice ratio. This would not be the case in my version.

The adventure in crab fried rice entailed:

• A solid half-hour (probably closer to 45 minutes) of breaking shells and picking at tiny cavities for every last morsel of crab meat.
• Sautéeing of diced carrots, then onions in butter (yes, butter). The carrots ended up being slightly more than slightly burned, but I happen to enjoy the flavor of carbonized carrot, so no harm done, just some dignity lost.
• Addition of cooked white rice, a tiny sprinkle of cumin, some white pepper, salt, and some of my mother's magical garlic dipping sauce for a balancing sweetness
  
• Once the rice took on some color from the carrots and seasonings, I added the crab and scallions (sliced on the bias), and cooked through just a minute or two longer.
  

I would have liked to use curry powder in my recipe, but somehow the simplicity of all of the ingredients worked wonderfully. It tasted even better the next day for lunch at work than when it was completely fresh-- I couldn't stop eating it and ended up having it for dinner, lunch, then dinner. Addictive, it was.

Leftover Crab, Part One: Crab Salad Sandwich

The closest thing to crab salad that I ever encountered before making it myself was the "Seafood Spread" sold in quart-size tubs at Costco, which I recall containing more "Krab" than anything else.

After spending a tedious half-hour or so painstakingly picking the crab from the main cavity and from just two of the legs, I added to the meat:

• olive oil
• red wine vinegar
• kosher salt
• black pepper
• dried oregano
• dash cayenne
• tiny bit of dijon
• green onions (sliced on the bias)

The flavor of the extra virgin olive oil I used was a bit overpowering at first but I remedied that by adding a touch more vinegar. Tweaking is the key to cooking. I enjoyed my first-ever crab salad on burnt toast. I should probably invest in a toaster instead of using my below-the-oven broiler.

I used only about a third of the leftover crab I had for the salad-- the fate of the rest is coming up.

Shrimp Tacos & Messy Fingers

It all began with this recipe from the Pioneer Woman. She does a spicy broiled shrimp that is drowning in butter, hot sauce, pepper, and lemon. I happened to have limes and was inspired to eat the shrimp in tacos. (I've been eating mostly rice and pasta for weeks and a change of carbohydrate was in order. A diverse diet is a happy diet. A happy diet is a happy human. A happy human is a happy universe. A happy universe is happy.)

In the beginning, there were shrimp. De-veined with the shells on. I left the heads in the pan to add flavor to the final juices that I'd end up soaking up with tortillas. Crustacean brains are delicious.

In the pan:

• 7 large shrimp
• 1 tablespoon of butter, cubed (it might be just slightly more than 1-- use your best judgment)
• Juice of 1.5 limes
• kosher salt
• many grinds of black pepper
  

I didn't have all of the components for a proper pico de gallo, but enough of them to fake it. It came close enough. I chopped:

• 1/2 of a jalapeno
• 1/2 of a plum tomato (had to conserve, only bought one!)
• 1/4 of a small onion

I mixed these with the juice of another lime. Bless my parents for their prolific lime tree, for I am rarely without.

The shrimp were done after about 7 and 1/2 minutes under the broiler, a flip half-way through. Some were a bit more charred than the others and their shells had crisped enough to eat without peeling. Almost.

I got into a shrimp-peeling and taco-assembling groove and devoured it all in one sitting.

The consumption of this meal required only two or three paper towels. I am quite proud of myself for that.

To be honest, though, I am not a huge fan of shrimp tacos; the only seafood tacos I wholeheartedly, helplessly enjoy are the fish tacos from Los Cotijas on Euclid and Chapman in Garden Grove, California. That place has rendered me incapable of enjoying any other fish taco. Do not go to this place unless 1) you are visiting from way down south where "Ensenada Style" fish tacos are just called "fish tacos," or 2) you don't mind being disappointed by every fish taco you taste thereafter. Perhaps you will not be as blown away by them as I am -- it's your risk to take. Just don't come crying to me when Rubio's and Wahoo's tacos taste like bland mush afterward.

A guide for those who will venture there despite my warning (or because of it):

1. Order only one fish taco, and the beverage of your choice. Do not order more than one at a time; these are at their absolute best when they are so hot that you can barely hold them. If you are still hungry after the first one, you can always go order another. Trust me on this, please.
   
2. Be generous with the salsa from the squeeze bottle. I also like to squeeze more on each bite as I eat, but I'm a fiend.
   
3. Once you pick the taco up, you've made a commitment. Putting the taco down will likely confuse and frustrate you as you attempt to pick it back up. Forget about using the taco hand again until you have consumed the entire taco.
   
4. After consuming the taco, sit for a moment. Contemplate what you've just done, what you've just eaten, and whether you really want another. If you conclude that yes, you are still hungry, repeat steps 1 through 3.
5. These tacos are great to-go, but you are doing a grievous disservice to yourself if you do not eat it for the first time fresh and hot inside the restaurant.
   

If you go, please take me with you.