I don’t know how to eat crab.
Don’t get me wrong, I love crab. I often order it at restaurants (see: King Crab at Waypoint, Harvard Square, Spaghetti with Blue Crab at Ai Fiori, NYC) and make it at home (see: Avocado and Crab Crostini, Squid Ink Spaghetti with Buttered Crab and Gremolata Breadcrumbs)
But what I mean is: I don’t know how to shell crab, pick and eat the meat, open the claws, you know – the whole show. And really, what I mean is: I’m too lazy.
Because my mom does it for me.

That’s right. Yes, I’m in my thirties and my mom still cracks open crabs and picks crab meat for me. Yes, I’m a foodie/food blogger/seafood lover and I manage to avoid doing it myself. Yes, I can figure it out, I just don’t want to. What’s that" Don’t I live oceans away from my mom in the Philippines" Yes, that is correct, which means I only eat crab fresh from its shell when we are together. It’s silly, I know. But there’s a story to it (isn’t there always a story") When I was in my teens, I was diagnosed as having low levels of iron, and the doctor recommended that I eat more seafood. Back then, I hated seafood. All I wanted to eat was pizza, pasta, hotdogs, and fried chicken (yum). So my parents “forced” me to eat seafood, including all the fresh shellfish from our island country. And because I was a lazy little eater, my mom would make it easy for me to eat: peel the shrimp...