Crabs are a summer tradition in my family. When I was too little to pick my own my grandfather picked them for me. Poppy was a man that liked to keep his hands clean but he made an exception for crabs and just used a lot of paper towels. I remember him passing along sweet morsels of choice lump meat. Only the best for his little girl. When I was old enough, I'm thinking 6 or 7, he taught me to pick my own.

When I was a girl my grandparents lived on the water and we caught our own. Every morning we would go out and check the pots putting what we had caught in the live box. We also chicken necked for them which was a lot of fun. I would slowly pull the crabs up and Poppy would scoop them up with a net. When the box was full it was time to steam and enjoy.

I loved watching the crabs try to escape from the hot pot. Cruel, yes, but delightful to a 6 year old. Granny would load them up with old bay and the scent was heavenly. When they were done we would spread newspaper all over the table and dig in.

The house on the water is a thing of the past and Granny no longer steams them, they are bought that way. I'm older so a few beers replace the sweet coke and the taste is that much better. These gems were had at my parents home. Stuffed with meat they were the most amazing crabs I had in a long time. My husband is a master picker and leaves me looking like a big old crab waster. My 10 year old picks his own. The 13 year old didn't make it and missed out. Ha.

I miss my Poppy. I would have liked it if he could have taught my kids to pick. But when they were little he always picked out the choice lumps and passed them down to their chubby little fingers. I also wish that my Granny had been there but I get to go to the shore and see her in a few weeks.

Lots of things have changed in my life since those early days on the water. But crabs are still my favorite and I don't mind getting my hands messy at all.