Adventures with Crustaceans

This is the view from my friend Whitni's house:

There are no crabs in this part of the country, so I had to bring them myself.

Whitni lives in the town of Paccha, in the temperate zone of the Andes.  I visited her this past weekend, and a few days before I left she gave me a call.  "I have a huge favor to ask you," she said.  "When you come, could you bring a couple dozen crabs?"  Her host family, jumping at the chance to obtain fresh seafood from the coast, wanted to have a cangrejado (crab bake; crab dinner).

The morning I left, I ran down to the riverside market by my house and bought two dozen fresh crabs for $20.  They were tied together in rows with twine, waving their claws at me in salutation.  Or retaliation.  One of the two.  At the bus terminal, I stowed them under the bus.  This is how many people transport their live chickens, dogs, goats, etc., when traveling by bus across the country.

Six hours later, when I disembarked in Paccha, the crabs were still alive.  Fresh seafood in the mountains, what ho!

Here are some lovely specimens:

We had quite a bit of fun playing with our food, going so far as to create artistic scenes with the uncooked crabs.  I have titled them below.

"Crab Love"

"Crab Carnage"

"Crab Gore"

Eventually, we did cook and eat the crabs.  (Whitni's host family cooked and Whitni and I ate, to be precise.)  The crabs were boiled in a plantain soup, which was then eaten alongside with a salad of onions and tomatoes.  Not pictured are the wooden boards and stones we used to smash open the crabs and get at the meat.  Cangrejados are always a gloriously messy affair, which in my opinion only enhances the enjoyment.  Buen provecho!