To this day I remember my first bite of Dungeness crab thirty years ago. I sat at a table in Berkeley, California, set with candles, newspapers, paper napkins, one hammer, and four brick-red crabs the size of dinner plates. I watched my elegant hostess for clues. She ripped the legs from the body, whacked the claws with the hammer, and dug her thumb into the cavity of the body to get at the “butter.” I saw and did likewise and have never looked back.
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