Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Crab Ass

I was never taught to cook and as a result I am a terrible at it. Over the years I've subjected friends and family to many sub-edible, and probably near fatal dinners. I was always one of those people who thought they could whip up something exotic with only the minimum of knowledge. I thought that through simple will power I could make a delicious and pleasing dinner.  I was wrong, horribly wrong. Even though it was forty years ago, I can still remember the nearly raw rabbit I served to my unappreciative guests one evening. My lack of skill in the kitchen was directly responsible for my slim figure. If food doesn't smell right, doesn't taste very good, and looks disgusting, you don't eat it. In fact that is a great idea, I should write a diet book based on that premise. Anyway, upon my meeting Mark and having him over to my house, it only took two attempts at dinner before Mark banned me from cooking for him again. Since those days I have learned how to make a decent egg in the morning, and Mark does let me fry up a hamburger now and then, but never do I get to cook dinner. Until yesterday. Mark announced that he was feeling ill, and could not cook dinner.
            "You have to make dinner." he told me. "I have crab legs in the refrigerator and they will go bad if we don't cook them tonight."
So Mark wobbled into the kitchen and started barking out orders.
            "Get the crab legs out of the fridge, and run some cold water over them. Then get the big blue pot, put a half inch of water in it, put it on the  stove and turn the heat on high."
So far it was pretty easy. While I followed Mark's orders, he sprinkled some kind of spice on the crab legs.
            "Okay now, put the crab legs in the pot and cover it. In five minutes turn off the heat, and put the crab legs on a platter."
Again, I followed Mark's instructions and after five minutes I asked, "Okay Mark, Now what?"
            "Put them on the table."
            "That's all? I'm done?" I was very surprised. I had always assumed that Mark was in the kitchen busting his ass. This was so simple that even I could do it, and probably without Mark overseeing the operation. Hell, next time I think I'll try that lobster bisque that Mark has only made a few times. Probably just as easy.


  1. Today Alan, The "Bare-ass Contessa", will teach us the correct swear word to pair with every meal.

  2. Our dad cooked chicken almost every Sunday. It remains the gold standard by which I still judge fried chicken! I'd like to try to make it his way but I think I need that cast iron 2 burner griddle he started with.......it has disappeared. :o(

  3. Bare Ass Contessa! Ha.

    And I love the picture of you.

  4. Looks like another dream.

  5. The beginning of this post sounds like an excuse, "I was never taught to cook...". Bah! Neither was I. Pull out some of those cookbooks, Mark I'm sure has many, and have at it. All you can do is fail and be skinny ;)

  6. And Peggy I can fry chicken like a boss!

  7. Yeah Patti, I can fry chicken also but it doesn't have Big Al's touch. I miss that!