Everyone around me has been eating blue crab. Everyone. And there I was, somehow always missing the boat—or rather, missing the fishmonger’s lucky day when fresh crab arrived. But this morning, something magical happened. Maybe it was the blue shirt I was wearing (matching energy, I guess?), because the seafood guy at the supermarket actually waved me over.

Finding My Blue Crab

“We’ve got live blue crab today!” he called out. I was sold. Two lovely specimens at under two euros each—a far cry from the black market prices that made headlines back during the August crisis. These days, Italian supermarket chains stock them everywhere, probably with some government subsidy keeping them at reasonable prices. My crabs fit perfectly in the palm of my hand, all eight limbs intact and full of energy.

Back home, I couldn’t stop staring at them. Those mouths? Genuinely unsettling in an alien way. But the blue on their claws was gorgeous. Before cooking, they definitely needed a proper bath—their shells and joints were visibly dirty.

Finding the Right Recipe

As I scrubbed the crabs, I scrolled through YouTube for inspiration. Italian crab dishes? Forget it—Italians barely eat crab anyway. Crab pasta and crab pizza kept popping up, but I wanted something that actually celebrates the crab itself. That meant going straight to Cantonese cooking.

Then I found it: a typhoon shelter crab video from the channel 職人吹水. One dish. Half a bin of minced garlic. Perfect, because I had garlic for days. The recipe was detailed and meticulous—washing, killing, cutting, frying the garlic until crispy, then the crab itself. I watched it about ten times, making sure I didn’t miss a single step.

Cooking this at home felt different. My kitchen hadn’t moved this fast in ages. Multi-tasking mode: fully activated.

The Dish Looks Amazing (But Then…)

When I called my partner in to see the final plate, golden and glistening under the garlic and oil, he paused for three seconds. “Where’s the crab?” he asked, confused. “Under the garlic,” I explained. When I told him to eat it with his hands like a snack, the look on his face said it all. “I really don’t understand you Asians,” he sighed. “Can you just make meatballs for dinner?”

I couldn’t even laugh because I started eating, and within ten minutes, I was howling in frustration.

The Reality Check

Here’s the thing: the recipe was perfect. The typhoon shelter crab was genuinely delicious—that salty, crispy, garlicky goodness that makes you lick your fingers. But eating it? It felt like having a goldmine right in front of you while your hands have holes in them. What meat? I was just spitting out shells! Over and over again.

By the time I gave up, I was ready to surrender those crabs to become fish food. My partner just shook his head at the chaos.

Making the Most of It

After I calmed down, I realized: it’s not really the crab’s fault. They evolved their entire exoskeleton to survive, and it still couldn’t protect them from humans.

So I made typhoon shelter crab congee with one of them, using leftover rice from the freezer. That’s where the crab really shined—the broth was deeply savory and rich. The other one? Saving it for crab vermicelli clay pot tomorrow.

The Verdict

Palm-sized blue crabs are genuinely awkward. Not enough meat, shells that won’t crisp properly, and an embarrassing amount of effort for very little reward. Unless I can find significantly larger specimens, I’m giving this little guy a pass next time.

But the typhoon shelter recipe itself? Absolutely worth trying—just do yourself a favor and use proper-sized crab or switch to prawns. I’m already planning round two with big shrimp. Now that’s going to hit differently.