“Ahhhh, stop holding on to each other’s limbs! You’re only making it worse!”
Why do they insist on making it harder for themselves? I guess I should be thankful, since without the dismembering I would have nothing with which to flavor the clarified butter. Thanks [murderous], dudes. J suggested a good ole fashioned crab boil, and I didn’t disappoint. The rule is that he orders and pays for the crabs, but I have to carry and cook them. We visited no fewer than six grocery stores in search of the recipe’s stated 1/2 cup of Old Bay Seasoning. Epic fail. Luckily, I had stocked our spice cabinet with “creole seasoning” a few years back, which neither of us had remembered. Before I moved forward with the meal, though, I offered J a taste test with the Old Bay Seasoning and the generic “creole seasoning.” Yah, it took him two seconds to differentiate. The potatoes are augmented with Cowgirl Creamery Comte, skim milk (because we didn’t have cream), butter, salt, pepper, rosemary, garlic, the aforementioned “creole seasoning,” and a ladle or three of the crab boil water. Dear future house guests, our deepest apologies if you wake up in the middle of the night to find a fragment of crab exoskeleton clinging to your scalp. It was out of our hands. You see, without crab-specific tools (Christmas wish list if anyone is listening!), that shit was flying everywhere! Perhaps the biggest surprise came in the form of a total absence of the cats. Crabs count as seafood, right? Maybe not in the eyes of the cats. Even in the initial cleaning and subsequent murdering they had no interest. YOUR LOSS.