Here we are in Annapolis, Maryland, named after princess Ann. We are on a boat floating on the Chesapeake Bay, part of the Potomac estuary, with over 12,000 miles of shoreline. In seven days on the boat, we will cover less than one percent of that shoreline.
This part of the East Coast is nothing like I expected. The weather is beautiful, there are trees and open fields everywhere, big expanses of water and handsome young men in perfect white uniforms preparing for graduation ceremonies today at the Naval Academy. The town is like a village, with lots of 18th-century structures, no skyscrapers, no traffic and the people seem calm and relaxed. It’s not at all like New York City. And all along the waterways are quaint little villages.
There are restaurants everywhere along the harbors. All the big names are here in Annapolis, like Ruth’s Chris Steak House, Chart House, and so forth. But there are a number of local restaurants as well, and surprisingly few are seafood oriented. I looked in a Mexican place, and a barbecue rib joint. But I ended up at Phillips Crab Deck, because of a sign in front advertising fresh steamed crabs. And that’s what I think of when I think of the Chesapeake Bay.
There were a lot of crab dishes on the menu, including of course the ubiquitous crab cakes and soft-shell crabs. But I was there on a mission: to try the local specialty.
After a very short wait, out came a plate of six crabs steamed in some kind of spicy water that left a spicy residue on the crab shells, along with a wooden mallet, fork and sharp paring knife. I hit the crab dead center, and heard it crack while crab juice and green crab fat squirted across the table. Thank the Lord I was eating alone.
I turned the crab over and cracked the other side, and the shell came off, disclosing an inner shell. This was soft enough to be able to be cut with the paring knife. It took a while, but I finally got out the crabmeat, dipped the larger pieces into the melted butter and enjoyed the fresh, sweet, moist crabmeat. That is the difference between what I get at home and this treat: it was juicier and moister, and had a more “umami” taste. And much more green crab fat, which I also like.
After a few crabs, I learned to crack the underside and not the hard shell, and by watching the locals I learned how to extract the crabmeat without making such a big mess. Still, it was pretty messy.
This was a serious crab house. There was no bread served, no side dishes unless ordered separately and no water without asking. So I had a glass of some local beer known as “Boo-Hoo,” which seemed to stand for some long name I never quite caught. Fresh crab is not cheap, and the bill came to $50 for six crabs and one draft beer.
On the boat the next day we were in St. Michaels, a wooden boat lover’s heaven. Next to the museum and restoration center is The Crab Claw Restaurant. It, too, serves steamed crabs, and I saw lots of people picking their way through them. But here the most ordered dish is the crab imperial, about a quarter-pound of fresh crabmeat baked with a sauce something like Béchamel. That’s a lot more civilized, as are the soft-shell crabs, just right at this season.
The next favorite seafood dish here seems to be scallops. They don’t come from the bay, but from the nearby ocean. I saw them baked, grilled, sautéed and skewered. But we have very good scallops in Los Angeles, so that’s nothing new for me. I did see one scallop dish that was innovative. In an upscale restaurant, there was a dish made from thinly-sliced raw scallops drizzled with lemon vinaigrette and served over a bed of warm potatoes. What a great idea!
In Chestertown, I had a great bowl of crab soup. This was a lot like the she-crab soup they used to serve at Ocean Avenue Seafood (now closed for remodeling). The only thing I know that is similar is the lobster bisque at Enterprise Fish Co. off of Main Street, which is also exceptional.
Finally, I tried the local oysters. They were not that different from what I eat in Los Angeles, and I felt a bit guilty eating them at all since they are rapidly disappearing from the bay as a result of something called MSX, which is killing them off.
Now we’re off to Virginia. Don’t be surprised if we find some mighty tasty barbecue along the way.
Merv Hecht is a longtime resident of Pacific Palisades.
This page is available to subscribers. Click here to sign in or get access.
