Ginger Scallion Soft-Shell Crab
My absolute favorite early summer dish
When I briefly returned to New York’s Chinatown last month, I saw handwritten signs on bright pink and orange paper outside restaurants and written on chalkboards that advertised soft-shell crab. Out of curiosity, my family and I tried it, and oh my god it was amazing!The crabs were prepared salt and pepper style (which uses white pepper instead of black pepper) with lightly stir-fried slices of green pepper that added just the right amount of freshness and mild spice to the dish overall. The legs were delightfully crunchy and the meat so tender and juicy. The best part was you could eat the entire crab and taste the variety of textures. The plates were practically licked clean at the end. Soft-shell crab is by far my new favorite kind of crab to eat.
Soft-shell crab is seasonal, generally running from May to July, during the brief period after crabs have molted their old shells but before they’ve developed new, hard shells.
After that first mindblowing soft-shell crab experience, I went to another restaurant I don’t normally go to because I heard they were famous for their soft-shell crabs. I was so excited and afraid they’d sell out that I went there early for lunch. It wasn’t too busy, so the waiter started chatting with me and asked “Neih hai bin douh yahn?” which literally means “Where are you from?” but also means “What ethnicity are you?” and, as I understand it, has the subtle undertones of “To which people do you belong?” This is a question I’ve gotten asked a lot throughout my life as a mixed race person, and I almost recited the answer I’ve practically memorized in Cantonese, the spiel I have to give whenever I meet a new person. But I kind of surprised myself when I joked “Ngoh hai tohng yahn gaai yahn” — I’m a Chinatown person. He chuckled and walked back to the kitchen. And the answer felt as true, in a different way, as the spiel I would have given.
Chinatown is the place where my mom and her siblings grew up. Just a few blocks away from their tenement is where she raised me. Everyone in our family has been shaped in one way or another by this precious neighborhood that takes care of us from “cradle to grave,” in chef and Chinatown advocate Grace Young’s words. In the discourse of Cantonese diasporic identity, it often feels like you only hear the phrases jook sing (literally “hollow bamboo,” metaphorically a Chinese person born overseas who’s on the more assimilated side) and lo wah kiu (old-timer Chinese immigrant) exchanged regularly. But, of course, the reality is that there are so many people who exist between and beyond these labels and all their connotations. I feel like I’m one of them, and I know I’m not alone.
So when I created this recipe for ginger scallion soft-shell crab, it felt like a nice culmination of some of my Chinatown experiences thus far: the nostalgic ginger scallion lobster of my childhood and the soft-shell crab I discovered this spring in the neighborhood, which continues to surprise and delight me as an adult. I don’t normally say this, but this recipe is incredible. I made it for a close friend recently before she went away for a while. If you love lobster as much as me but are intimidated by how much work it is (or if you’re squeamish at the thought of killing a live crustacean), this is the easier, equally delicious route. Make it while it’s still in season!
the recipe
Serves 4
Ingredients:
18 oz soft-shell crabs (for crabs that are 5-6 inches wide, make two per person)
3-4 cloves garlic
3 oz ginger
4 oz scallions (approximately 8-9 scallions)
3/4 cup and a few tablespoons soy sauce
1/2 cup Shaoxing wine
1/4 - 1/2 cup high-smoke point neutral oil
sugar to taste
1 lime
Prepare and marinate the crabs: Ask your fishmonger to clean the crabs or clean them yourself. Marinate them in roughly 3/4 cup soy sauce and 1/2 cup Shaoxing wine for about fifteen to twenty minutes. (Thank you, ArChan Chan, for the tip in your book Hong Kong Local!)
Prep the aromatics: While the crabs are marinating, mince the garlic, peel and chop the ginger into 1/4-inch slices, and chop the scallions and cilantro into one or two inch pieces.
Dredge and shallow-fry the crabs: Heat a wok or frying pan to medium or medium-low heat, depending on the strength of your stove. Once it’s heated, add the oil. You want the oil to be hot enough that it glides quickly around the bottom so that the crabs immediately sizzle when you put them in. To test this, you can hold a chopstick in the oil. If oil bubbles around the chopstick, you know it’s hot enough. Spread out the cornstarch on a plate or shallow dish, using just 1/4 cup to start with, and lightly dredge the crabs. Place one or two crabs gently in the wok, depending on the size, and be careful not to overcrowd it. Fry the crabs for two minutes on each side. They should look golden brown. Once fried, place the crabs on a paper towel-lined dish. Change out the oil as needed (I usually do this halfway through and use a paper towel to wipe off any little burnt bits.) Once all the crabs are fried, remove all but a tablespoon of the oil from the wok.
Make the sauce: Add the ginger to the wok and stir-fry for about 30 seconds, then add the garlic and scallions. Add soy sauce, sugar, about a quarter cup of water, and a squeeze of lime (one of my twists!) to taste, and stir fry. The cornstarch from the crabs should thicken up the sauce a bit, but if you prefer it thicker, you can add a little bit of cornstarch slurry to the sauce. Once the sauce is to your liking, shut off the heat and add the crabs back in, folding them into the sauce just enough to be lightly coated all around.
Garnish and serve: Transfer everything to a dish and garnish with cilantro. Serve it to your favorite people with rice and your choice of sides!
