Eat 'Em and Weep

by Paulette Licitra

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But once in a blue crab moon is not enough, so rather than try his patience more, I wait until he has a dinner commitment elsewhere, then run out and get a couple of those jewels for a dinner alone in front of the TV . But even though I may not mind going to a movie or a museum by myself, eating shellfish alone is just not as much fun. Especially lobster.

So my friend Joanie and I have a standing lobster date. About three times a year we scan New York City for restaurants with lobster specials. The best offers are between $10.95 - $12.95 for a 1 1/4 lb. lobster, including salad and a baked potato. We've sampled lobster specials from Upper East Side to Upper West Side, from Chelsea to the West Village, and haven't found a clinker yet. The creatures are always scrumptious and delectable.

The big decision is steamed or broiled. Every time I get a steamed one I say that's the best way, and every time I get a broiled one I say that's the best way. Joanie is strictly a steamer. When we receive our plates graced with the fiery red beast an atmosphere of serious awe descends upon us. With the first crack of a shell we automatically smile; with our first taste we silently swoon. I start with the tail, Joanie ends with it (I like the anticipation, she says). We each draw out the meat from every possible space, even the tiny legs. Half way through the meal we are almost sliding off our chairs. At the end of the feast we congratulate each other on how well we did.

My family ate the pasta first and then relished the seafood afterward.

Being part of an Italian American family (southern Italian), meant extra opportunities for seafood. Christmas Eve was always the pinnacle, when a parade of shellfish spanned the table: Fried Calamari, Scungilli in Spicy Tomato Sauce, Shrimp Scampi, Lobster Salad, Scungilli Salad, Baked Clams. Now that my family is scattered around the country, we don't have those wonderful extravaganzas any more. But I've learned many of the recipes and don't wait for special occasions to create them. One of my favorites is my mother's all purpose tomato seafood sauce for pasta. This was a favorite dish after our adventurous crabbing excursions. We had crab traps (box-like cages with sides that splay open when not held up by their rope). We'd bait the traps and throw them over the sides of docks, piers, or bridges along the bay. After waiting a few minutes we'd draw up the traps, thus closing the doors on the crabs feeding within. They'd be hanging from every bar, glistening, fragile yet powerful.

Or we'd go at night to the docks with large flashlights and scoop nets. Crabs tend to swim near docks. By shining the light on the water's surface you can see them swimming. One quick swoop with the net and you'd scoop them right out of the water.

We'd go home with dozens of crabs. My mother would have the sauce already bubbling. She took on the job of cleaning the crabs (pulling off their backs and cutting off their eyes while they tried to pinch her), and then tossed them into the sauce. After that meal, my father, sister and I would be covered with tomato sauce up to our elbows. As for my mother, she didn't indulge. Too messy.

Into this sauce you can submerge cleaned crab (sometimes you can even buy these frozen), shelled and deveined shrimp, or as a friend of mine did once -- tuna (from the can'.) -- it was good, too.

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