Alright. So I cheated a little bit.
I did not get the crabs I ate today at Mr. Bill’s in Essex. Although it is a Baltimore tradition (and, as I have heard from many, rightly so), on this Father’s Day we picked up our crabs from a real Eastern Shore waterman being as we were already on that side of the bay. However, Mr. Bill’s is a Baltimore favorite worthy of discussion and investigation into its identity as a local culinary and cultural favorite.
Essex, almost due east of Baltimore, lies off of Eastern Avenue and borders the northern shore of the Chesapeake Bay. It is a working class neighborhood that was hit particularly hard by the decline of the industrial boom in Baltimore, especially after a fire in 1957 destroyed an entire city block of business buildings. Mr. Bill’s Terrace reflects this working-class, old-fashioned Baltimore vibe. Its décor is fashionably outdated with Formica counters, old Baltimore sports memorabilia, leatherette booths and folding tables covered in brown paper. Mr. Bill’s is also, apparently, quite famous to many Baltimore natives for its laid-back atmosphere and special spice blend that some say is a mixture of black pepper, cinnamon, rock salt and a touch of Old Bay seasoning.
Mr. Bills has built its reputation around being a working-class, extremely casual, local and very Baltimore crab house.
Crabs are also around $46/dozen at Bills. And I am a poor, poor college student. Although that’s about the average price nowadays for steamed Maryland blue crabs, I have easier means of obtaining some of our favorite deliciously crabby little friends. My family has a home on the Wye River, just about 6 miles from Kent Island and Chestertown, both meccas for Chesapeake Bay watermen. We were there for Father’s Day weekend, fishing off the pier, swimming in the pool, kayaking and just watching the lightning bugs. My father happens to be good friends with a genuine Eastern Shore watermen named William Ford, otherwise known as Captain Weasel. He is a 60-some jack of all trades, a relic of times past, an original waterman (Chestertown accent and all).
“HEY BUDDY,” is his answer on the telephone every time my dad rings Captain Weeze, clearly audible from across our old red pickup truck. Captain Weasel crabs and uses the steamers at Harris’ Crab House on Kent Island, selling his locally trapped, hand sorted, freshly steamed crabs out of the back of the restaurant. My dad and I picked up a bushel of steamed number one males this morning for an undisclosed (but very cheap) price. Captain Weasel told me he steams with a very similar spice mixture used at Mr. Bills: rock salt, Old Bay and a dash of cinnamon; some vinegar is used in the water to steam the crabs. Each flavor is distinct in its own way. The mixture is not too spicy and had a touch of sweetness to it that you experienced in the aftertaste.
Picking crabs is also a uniquely working-class, Baltimore activity. Sure, at pricey restauraunts you may be able to get a few dozen crabs to pick, but there is nothing like laying newspaper or brown butchers paper down on a table (outside or inside) and pouring some hot steamed crabs right in the middle for everyone to pick, socialize and eat. Maybe throw in a few pitchers or bottles of beer and some potato chips and you've got a true Maryland summer celebration. Both Mr. Bill's Terrace and my kitchen table overlooking the Wye River had the same vibe. At Mr. Bills, you're picking crabs in a cheerfully crowded rastaurant. At my house, you are picking crabs and trying to yell over the noise of my many cousins, aunts and uncles running all over the house. Tomatoes, toe-mah-toes.
I know I definitely cheated and did not go to Mr. Bills, but in a way I had the same kind of experience you can find at the Terrace Restaurant: distinctly working class, nostalgic and local. I only had to go as far as making a trip to see my buddy Captain Weasel.
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they were delicious :)
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