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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Review of Memoirs of Josephine Fish HERE on Blogcritics
Review of Mystery and Mirth HERE on Blogcritics
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