Last year Dad and I both were excited about the opportunity of having crabs after a day at the races, and we ended up at Crackpot, which was much to our collective liking. While our Black Eyed Susan day lineup was different than last year, crabs were still on the agenda. D. and R. couldn't come, as they had the drive back to Silver Spring to keep in mind, but V., L., Fat T., my father and I all happily made the trek to Crackpot. It's a pretty nondescript place from the outside, tucked into a strip mall in Towson with an attached liquor and wine store, but inside the restaurant's walls are laden with maritime themed doo dads and painted fish and the vibe is decidedly chill and knowing.
We were on top of it enough to have made a reservation for a table and two dozen jumbo crabs, so when we sat down most all of our decisions were already made. What wasn't made, however, was the knowledge base L. and Fat T. needed for their first ever (ever!) experience with blue crabs. I found this a bit surprising, but then I realized that while I don't very often feel like a Marylander, I was one for the first half of my life simply by the geographical location of my birth and childhood...and that comes with certain inalienable rights: like knowing what it is to sit down at a paper-covered table and dive into a pile of Old Bay laden hard shelled blue crabs...something Long Islanders like L. and Fat T. simply wouldn't have been as exposed to during their respective youths. But no worries, my father was happy to expound his own crab wisdom to new ears.