When the name of your eating establishment is already a double entendre, it might make sense to use this fact for promotional purposes.
Crabby Dicks is a Rehoboth Beach eatery right here in mine own Delaware. In gathering information for this review, to my surprise I discovered that this eatery is sort of a mini-chain extending from Florida, to my birth city of Baltimore, now on to Delaware. After over 50 years of living in Baltimore I did not discover this tongue-in-cheek seafood place until I moved to Delaware.
The restaurant is on the biggest and most notorious highway here in the Delmarva peninsula. Which, specifically, is Route 1, or Coastal Highway. In Baltimore the establishment is tucked away in a little corner in that city’s Fells Point area.
How could anyone not notice Crabby Dicks as it sits proud and unashamed near the Rehoboth Beach resort? Beginning with that little matter of its highway sign. Oh my, there are many very unpleasant publicity over the sign that continues on via radio diatribes and mine own husband’s constant complaints.
Well yeah, Crabby Dicks‘ sign is, well, it’s a little dirty. Again, look at the name of the establishment. This too can be construed two ways.
“Get Your Big Crabby Balls Here”. “Balls of Meat to Die For”. “Crabs in Balls? We Got Them Here”.
Okay, so I made up the above billboard slogans. But they are the sorts of marquee texts one routinely finds on Delaware’s Crabby Dicks‘ roadside business sign.
The Delaware talk radio circuit sometimes spends endless time on the subject of Crabby Dicks‘ roadside marquee, only giving the restaurant more business as The Wise I sees it.
But what about the food?
Thought you’d never ask.
Although, first, the ambience.
Again, tongue-in-cheek. Sure to bring a smile. For eating crabs is a cheerful, messy, yea even dirty, activity.
As one enters the restaurant, there are all sorts of crab icons plastered all over the walls. Huge dolls sit upon wooden rocking chairs with blackboards proclaiming the day’s special. There is a smart bar with sports shows always on.
I can’t imagine going to Crabby Dicks for anything but crabs. Although they do serve other entrees, including an extensive “senior menu” serving smaller portions.
Granddaughter Kaitlyn does enjoy crabs being from Merryland and everything. This even though she’s not quite two years old, she learned early on that summer subsistence in the world into which she was born depends on eating crab meat and plenty of it.
Kaitlyn also enjoys a French fry or two on occasion. At Crabby Dicks she got both and had a grand time. A small bucket of crayons was also provided and myself, Kaitlyn’s Mom and Kaitlyn got busy drawing pictures on the butcher block paper required for proper crab eating.
The best things about crabs at Crabby Dicks would be, tada, the price!
Before venturing out that early Fall day, I did some phoning around at local crab eateries. For trash bottom feeders of the Chesapeake Bay, crabs sure are expensive critters.
At Crabby Dicks we got a dozen for $38.00, “mixed”. Mixed is a pretty darn good way to sell the things. So many of the crabberies try to sort the colossal, jumbo, massive, etc, etc, until one would think there was no such thing as a small crab, only many BIG crabs all described with deceiving words.
We were also allowed to purchase 1/2 a dozen crabs and for this I was glad. A dozen and a half would be fine for our group of three and a half.
Daughter and I both purchased a bowl of cream of crab soup because in late summer, one simply cannot have enough crabs. I also had a salad.
The soup was, well I’d rate it “average” to “slightly above average”. The salad was crisp and a fine accompaniment to the spicy crabs. Kaitlyn and her Dad split an order of French fries.
Then the crabs came and it was every man for his or herself. Except Kaitlyn who still cannot peel her own crab. Although soon enough this will change as folks are too busy peeling their own crabs and if an older and more deft Kaitlyn should ever want some of the steaming backfin meat she better learn the art of peeling crabs soon.
Of course the crabs were perfectly seasoned with kosher salt and Old Bay spice. And HOT! These puppies came to the table steaming. As it should be.
Forget the double-entendre sign, I say. Crabs by their very name invite such coy euphemisms. And almost every seafood place in the world serves something called “crab balls”, usually small portions of crab meat, breaded and fried.
Come on, it’s an invitation for such double-entendre!
My husband, normally no prude, should get over his aversion to Crabby Dicks‘ roadside signs.
The man is from Indiana. What does he know about crabs?
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