My mom is from Baltimore, so I could eat steamed crabs basically before I could walk. No fancy mallets, just loads of newspaper, Old Bay and vinegar, and a massive pile of crabs waiting to be devoured. You wash them down with a cold Budweiser, of course. Nothing reminds me more of the dog days of summer than eating crabs on the back patio. Happy Friday, everyone!
Photo Credit: Ian Pitts via Flickr
La Panza Porteña 