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This is without doubt one of my favorite meals. I first had Spanish style garlic shrimp many years ago in a Spanish restaurant in the Ironbound section of Newark, NJ and have maintained an abiding love for them ever since.
The classic version is simpler, but (and I wince at the immodesty here) I honestly think this version is a superior expression. It doesn’t stray into heterodoxy; it simply brings in a few more authentic flavors from the palette of Spanish cuisine. The resulting combination of flavors not only infuses the shrimp, but creates a sauce that is delicious almost beyond the range of mortal words to describe. It is the sauce that crusty bread was put on this earth to absorb.
BTW, a recipe for the classic version can be found in The Foods and Wines of Spain by Penelope Casas (if you don’t own it, I strongly suggest you consider adding it to your collection right away. It’s a brilliant book; comprehensive and an absolute delight to read.)
To make up for my apostasy, I send the talented Ms Casas a deep bow and a courtly kiss on the hand, and a humble request that she try this version just once. The truth is in the tasting, que no?
3 Tbsp olive oil (a full-flavored Spanish olive oil is best)
1 large bay leaf
4-6 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
1 Tbsp small capers
1 Tbsp brandy
1 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined (dry well on paper towels)
1/2 tsp smoked paprika (see Cook’s Note)
1/2 tsp sweet paprika
2 Tbsp minced parsley
Sea salt, if needed
PREPARATION:
In a heavy skillet, heat the olive oil and the bay leaf over medium heat. Add the garlic and saute, stirring for a minute or so until just softened.
Add the pepper flakes, the capers, and the brandy, and cook off the alcohol for a minute. Turn heat to medium-high and toss in the shrimp, stirring quickly to cook them evenly.
Cook the shrimp until opaque and just firm.
Remove from heat, stir in the paprikas and the parsley. Taste for salt. Serve immediately with warm crusty peasant bread for dipping. Serves four as an appetizer.
Cook’s Note: Smoked paprika, with its unique and delightful flavor, is the secret ingredient of classic Spanish cuisine and is well worth seeking out. It can be found at many gourmet shops, specialty food stores, or online. Though there is no direct substitute, an equivalent amount of good quality regular paprika with 2-3 drops of mesquite smoke flavoring added can be used with good results.
“Hand-To-Mouth Meals” is a special series of blog posts where I will be engaged in all the processes (harvest, handling, transport, menu development, and meal preparation) that transform an ingredient into food. For the first in this series, I’ve chosen America’s favorite seafood, shrimp, which is harvested right here off the coast of Charleston, SC.
Thanks so much to FoodBuzz for choosing this inaugural “Hand-To-Mouth Meal” to be part of their 24 Meals, 24 Hours, 24 Blog Posts project.
Part One: Queasy Rider
Imagine for a moment what a patch of water with a hundred or so giant sharks caught up in a massive feeding frenzy would look like. That’s what I was seeing up ahead of us as we plied through the cool, blue, and deceptively serene waters of the Folly River.
I tried not to sound as nervous as I felt. “Fred,” I said, pointing to the approaching, blood-chilling turbulence, “What the hell am I looking at?”
“That? That’s a sandbar. Tide’s coming in pretty good. It’s probably going to be kinda lumpy out there.”
Lumpy. Oh joy.
Just past the sandbar, the remnants of a long-neglected dock jutted out into the river. On it, dozens of pelicans watched silently as we passed. I may have been imagining things, but it seemed like a couple of them were looking at me and shaking their heads sadly:
Pelican One: “What do you think, Stan? Think he’ll make it through?”
Pelican Two: “I don’t know, Bert, I just don’t know.”
Moments later, big swells started rising, seemingly coming from every direction and bouncing Fred’s small but sturdy boat, The Catherine, up and down and side to side and occasionally slamming it down with a filling-loosening crash. I was trying to look casual while keeping a deathgrip on the rail, and I wondered, with a sense of mild horror, if this was what my whole day was going to be like.
Fred must have noticed my white knuckles. “Have I ever taken you through the Washing Machine before?”
The Washing Machine? Oh yeah, that sounded about right.
“It’s not too big,” Fred said, “We should be out of it another fifteen, twenty minutes.”
Oh good, I thought. It’s always nice to have something to live for.
Fred Dockery is the triple-threat of local commercial fishermen. He’s a crabber mainly, but he shrimps during the season and hold an oyster license, too. He also works with the SC Department of Natural Resources doing conservation research on such things as turtle excluder design for nets and traps.
In the research I’m doing for my book, Hugging The Coast, Fred’s wealth of knowledge related to seafood and the commercial fishing industry has been absolutely invaluable. He’s also a heck of a good guy, a patient teacher, and in all the times we’ve been out together on his boat, he’s never chided me too badly about my little secret: I have a terrible motion sickness problem and it takes every medication known to science to keep me from sharing my breakfast with the pelicans.
In spite of that inconvenient truth, I truly enjoy being out on the water. But rivers and creeks and inlets are more my speed. Today, though, we were heading out into the big, bad Atlantic Ocean to net some shrimp for the first Hand-To-Mouth meal.
275 years later, we passed through the Washing Machine and out into the ocean which, my stomach told me, was only marginally less ‘lumpy’ than the Washing Machine. Fred throttled back, and he and Rich Brown (his friend and fellow fisherman) went into game mode, expertly feeding the net off the stern, along with the ‘tickler chain’ (which makes the shrimp jump up off the bottom), and the ‘doors’, the large wooden slabs that angle out from the front of the net to keep the wide horizontal mouth of the net open and near the bottom as it’s dragged through the water.
Here in South Carolina, shrimping season runs from about mid-May to December and sometimes beyond, depending on how warm the water stays. Most shrimping is done from large trawlers that have dual nets lowered on enormous booms and are dragged for four or five hours at a time through likely areas. To determine if they’re in a good location, the large boats use ‘try nets’, smaller versions that are pulled up every hour or so to see what’s going on down below. If the try net comes up full of shrimp, that means the big nets are filling up, too.
Fred’s operation is on a different scale. “That’s our try net right there,” he said pointing to one of the seagulls following the boat as it whirled down to scoop up a snack in the boat’s wake, “If they’re picking up shrimp, we’re in the right spot.”
With the net in the water, it was just a matter of spending an hour or so traveling back and forth over a section of water in parallel rows, like a farmer driving a harvester over a field. Only a lot wetter.
Since there was some time to kill, Fred and Rich broke out a late breakfast. The very idea of eating was giving me shivers, but I was doing a good job of not turning green until Fred held out a ziplock bag containing gnarled, brownish strips.
“Anyone like to try some homemade fish jerky?”
My knees, already weakened from trying to keep from falling overboard, turned gooey and I broke out in that tell-tale icy sweat.
“Ummm, Maybe later. I, uh, I think I’m just gonna sit down for a while…”
I positioned myself carefully on the narrow framework of the forward winch and put my head down on a bouncing steel crossbeam and promptly passed out. No, wait…I mean fell asleep. Yeah, I fell asleep. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I awoke to the sound of the engine slowing. It was time to ‘haul back’ the net and see what we had. After my “nap” I was feeling a lot steadier and somewhat less violently nauseous. Still, I doubted I’d be dipping into the fish jerky anytime soon.
As the net was rising, the seagulls went into full-tilt begging mode. ‘Want!’ they implored, hovering just over the glistening lines, ‘Want! Want!’ They weren’t exactly pitiful, sad-eyed dogs, but they’d be rewarded soon enough anyway.
A plain old net dragged through the water would come up with any number of different creatures both large and small, but shrimping nets are very carefully designed to draw in the small and exclude the large. Which is why, when the nets are emptied onto the deck, there are no large fish or turtles, but there are plenty of little things in with the shrimp. This ‘bycatch’, which included baitfish, small crabs, and icky round creatures called jellyballs, is sorted out from the shrimp and tossed overboard. The quick ones swim away; the seagulls take the hindmost. It’s a circle of life thing.
It wasn’t a big haul, only a few dozen pounds, but the shrimp themselves were big and beautiful. We headed back, having done a good morning’s work and, one of us at least, having not puked on anyone’s shoes.
And that, by my standards, is one of the defining characteristics a good day.
To give you a taste of what commercial small scale shrimping is like, here’s a video featuring highlights from my day shrimping off Kiawah Island with the ever-patient Fred Dockery and Rich Brown which you can see below or here.
Heading home with my shrimp, I couldn’t figure out why the shock absorbers in my old pickup seemed so much better, why the road itself seemed like glass. Then it dawned on me: the road wasn’t bouncing up and down and side to side. The planet may be spinning at 10,000+ miles an hour and hurtling through space at blinding speed, but for all that it’s still a pretty smooth ride.
Part Two: Handle With Care
Before I came to the Carolina Lowcountry, I’d eaten plenty of shrimp. Or so I’d thought.
It wasn’t until I tasted the shrimp harvested right here in these temperate waters that I’d realized what I’d been missing. These aren’t your standard imported farm-raised shrimp; South Carolina shrimp have real flavor, and a substantial texture that’s satisfying as good steak. They taste like shrimp ought to taste, and maybe did before we became inundated and then placated by cheap, watery imports. In my opinion, these beautiful shrimp could be the official mascot of the locavore movement.
Like any high-quality local ingredient, capturing their flavor means using or processing them right away. Shrimp are iced down on the boats and are kept cold all through the cleaning, grading, and other processes that take place before they’re sold. Most shrimp are sold head-off, but the closer you get to the source, the more likely it is that you’ll have to head the shrimp yourself. It’s not a particularly neat process, but it’s not at all difficult (although years ago I tried to head shrimp without any idea of how it was properly done and turned it into a legendary fiasco.
(The piece I wrote about the experience, The Never-Ending Jumbo Shrimp Death March, will be posted here in the near future.)
A few of things to remember about head-on shrimp:
You’ll find them at surprisingly low prices, but that’s because 35-40% of the weight of the shrimp is in the head. To be on the safe side, buy 40% more than you need.
On the plus side, if you buy fresh head-on shrimp, you’ll find that they aren’t waterlogged and will give you more real ‘meat’ for your money.
Heading shrimp can be a messy business until you get the hang of it. You might want to wear vinyl gloves if it’s your first time.
Most of us have been stuck at one time or another by the sharp, pointy bit (the telson) at the tail-end of the shrimp. Head-on shrimp have another pointy bit at the front (the rostrum) which is easy to see and thus avoid. Just be careful not to grab a handful of them the way you would head-off shrimp – or you’ll learn a valuable lesson!
Unlike head-off shrimp, you’ll have to deal with long antennae, googly eyes, and lots of legs. Expect that it will take some getting used to, start with small amounts (not ten pounds, like I did!), and take a break if it gets to be too much.
Just remember: when we make the (sometimes difficult) effort to process our foodstuffs from their most elemental form, it shows true respect to the source of our nourishment.
Here’s a video I put together that shows you how to easily process head-on shrimp, as well as quickly devein them, which you can see below or here.
After heading my shrimp, I sorted them by approximate size: the biggest ones for the dishes with just a few, very visible shrimp; medium ones for dishes where they would be in a bunch together; and the smaller ones for the dishes that would use them as an ingredient.
I’d had some general ideas in mind for what I wanted to cook, but during the sorting I decided to try and open up over the next few days and be guided by instinct in my menu planning. I wanted to find the best expression for these little marvels, the best way to express their flavor and texture, and along the way find some new flavor combinations that my guests (some friends from the local fishing community who’ve eaten these amazing shrimp since childhood), would find novel.
The Menu
FIRST COURSE: Shrimp, Snow Pea, and Rose Quartz Radish Salad with Blueberry-Tarragon Butter
I wanted to open the meal with a dish that would convey the purity and exquisite freshness of a perfectly boiled, lightly chilled shrimp. I also wanted this dish to be an elegant color story that would bring together flavorful ingredients that harmonized visually with the color of the shrimp.
I remembered Rose Quartz Radishes, which was an idea that I’d developed and liked very much, but never got around to making again.
They were the perfect choice, since they combine an interesting flavor with a unique shape and color.
The technique is simple: start with red radishes (the elongated French type work very well), pare off the sides into a random polygon, ’sharpen’ the ends in the same manner, then simmer the radishes and all the parings in just enough lightly salted water to cover.
When just tender, turn off the heat and let them cool for a while in the liquid. They will take up the color during this cooling period, so be patient. Remove and chill.
The Blueberry-Tarragon Butter brings together the bright mint notes of a familiar tarragon butter with the warm sweetness of dried blueberry. I layered it for contrast and also to create an opportunity for each guest to experiment with the flavors.
I’ve always had a special love for mojo, the marinade that infuses many of my favorite Cuban dishes with garlicky goodness. On a recent trip to the store, I found a chipotle mojo next to the regular and didn’t hesitate in grabbing one. This was the first time I’ve had occasion to use it and it is exciting stuff.
I added it to coconut milk and let the shrimp marinate for longer than usual to allow the flavors to penetrate.
I grilled them quickly over hot coals to crust them and then dredged the skewers in crushed, roasted sesame seeds.
The result? An addictive combination of flavor and crunch that may well enter the pantheon of shrimpy greatness.
The relish, a combination of tangerine, Vidalia onion, pomegranate, and lemongrass was a sweet and refreshing companion for the spicy skewers.
THIRD COURSE: Shrimp, Braised Fennel, and Apricot Medallions with Cilantro Pomegrante Tartar Sauce
This seafood sausage was a complete, spur-of-the-moment creation. I had planned on five courses, but I had a fennel bulb on hand, and the thought of shrimp paired with fennel braised in a little brandy just seemed right.
I added some soft dried apricot to unite the flavors, and parsley and a little lemon zest for brightness. After poaching,
I rolled it in sweet Hungarian paprika and served it warm with a jalapeno-infused cilantro tartar that had a touch of sweetness from the pomegranate.
Altogether, the dish had a subtle complexity that was pleasantly satisfying.
FOURTH COURSE: Spanish Style Garlic Shrimp with Capers
The first time I had Spanish-style garlic shrimp was, oddly, in the Ironbound section of Newark, NJ. But the Ironbound is home to many excellent restaurants that serve some of the finest Spanish and Portugese food on this side of the Atlantic. I fell head over heels in love with garlic shrimp, and was never able to truly improve on the classic recipe provided by Penelope Casas in her outstanding book The Foods and Wines of Spain – until now.
The small changes in technique and the addition of a little fine Spanish brandy, a few capers, and a pinch of smoked paprika really send this dish soaring into the heavens on crusty bread wings.
FIFTH COURSE: Seared Wild Mushroom Dusted Shrimp and Scallops with Spaghetti Squash, Porcini Oil, and Grana Padano Shavings
This was my ‘pasta’ course – with a twist. The shrimp and the scallop medallions were dredged in a finely-milled mix of dried wild mushrooms and seared in brown butter and a little olive oil.
The spaghetti squash ‘pasta’ was dressed with a fragrant porcini oil and the plate flecked with shavings of rich Grana Padano cheese. It was a very graceful Italian dish with real depth of flavor.
SIXTH COURSE: Coastal Carolina Shrimp and Grits Tart
I told my guests that the next course would be a tart, allowing them to assume that dessert was coming. Not so fast, though. I had one more shrimp dish up my sleeve!
This Shrimp and Grits Tart is a remix of the classic Lowcountry dish, although there are so many different recipes for Shrimp and Grits that I really think it’s more of an idea or a concept than a particular dish.
In any case, no matter what else it includes, if a recipe’s got shrimp and it’s got grits, well then, you’re off to a good start.
Grits are polenta by another name, and are just as fancy, even if the name isn’t. When just made, they’re creamy and smooth, but leave them alone for a while and they ’set up’ into a solid mass that presents new opportunities, such as this crust.
Inside is a combination of peppers, onions, bacon, chives, cheese, and lots of tasty shrimp. A slice of this for breakfast, lunch, dinner (or even for ‘dessert’) is Heaven on a June-or-any-other day.
For the actual dessert course, I opted for a variety of fruits to refresh and revitalize after what was a large but thoroughly satisfying meal. My guests, some of the hardest working and most dedicated people I’ve ever known, enjoyed the opportunity to sit together and drink wine and talk while being surprised, amused, and pleased by what was coming out of the kitchen, and I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to please and surprise them.
It would be hard to say what their favorite dish was, because they did fair justice to everything I brought out. There was a moment, however, just after we’d broken bread together over bowls of garlic shrimp, where we all just sat back in the afterglow and kind of looked around to just gather in the real camaraderie of the event.
My friend Scott summed it up for all of us. “This is great,” he said, stretching, “We should do this again.”
Sounds good to me.
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As we move further into the dog days of summer, our thoughts return to the all too obvious pleasures of ice cream, which we first wrote about here. Surprisingly, the history of ice cream itself is fraught with debate and controversy.
In many quarters during the late 1800’s, the ingestion of the then highly popular, (though apparently sinfully delicious) ice cream soda, was considered to be immoral and improper on the Sabbath. Some communities even passed resolutions to outlaw its consumption on Sundays.
It is said that the phrase ice cream sundae was first coined in Evanston, Illinois; a phrase that may have paved the way for the beleaguered ice cream soda parlors to remain open on Sundays.
“Evanston, Illinois (then know as Chicago’s Heaven or Heavenston) was one of the first towns to outlaw the ‘Sunday Soda Menace’. Evanston was a very strict religious town where the Sabbath was strictly observed. The town even passed an ordinance prohibiting the retailing of ice cream sodas on Sunday. According to sources published in Evanston, the word sundae originated at Garwoods’ Drugstore…They did not serve ice cream sodas. They served sodas without soda on Sunday. The Evanston Women’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) championed it as a pleasant alternative to alcoholic drinks.”
To continue the controversy, both Two Rivers, Wisconsin and Ithaca, New York (our former stomping ground) claim to have invented the concept of the ice cream sundae itself. Wisconsin’s claim dates the invention to 1881 while New York’s claim of 1892 is later, but with more extensive documentation. Both cities have been fighting amiably on the topic since the 1970’s.
The lascivious ice cream soda itself was invented by Robert Green in 1874 at the Franklin Institute’s exhibit in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
“After sneaking a tentative sip, Green was wowed: the resulting blend of soda, syrup, and frozen cream was delightful! Without hesitation, the innocent libation was added to the menu, and by the end of the exhibition, customers showed approval by cracking their money purse. Green was taking in over $600 dollars a day in ice cream soda sales alone!…The phenomenon spread quickly and soon, ice cream sodas were slurped in fountains from New York to California.”
(Of course, when it comes to the history of ice cream, there’s always a little controversy. Fred Sanders of Detroit, Michigan also claimed to be the inventor of the ice cream soda at his confectionary shop which was named The Pavilion of Sweets.)
You can read more about the invention and popularity of ice cream here, from President James Madison’s wife, Dolly who started a craze for ice cream when she served it at his second inaugural ball in 1812, to the invention of the hand crank ice cream maker in 1943 by housewife Nancy Johnson.
Please join us tomorrow for the last part of our two part series on the joys of ice cream: More Exotic Ice Creams for the Sun-Ravaged Soul, which will feature a roundup of recipes for delicious flavored ice creams you won’t find at your local supermarket.
(Photo Credits: the first ice cream photo is courtesy of Thomas Hawk, while the second is by Emilie Hardman.)
“Abuelita” means “little grandmother” in Spanish. These sweet little treats are based on the deep-fried and very delicious Cuban empanadas filled with guava & cheese that I used to buy in Union City, NJ (where there are more Cubans and Cuban restaurants per square mile than in Havana!).
When I first made these, a friend said that they seemed like the kind of after-school snack that a little old Cuban grandmother would bake for a favorite grandchild. Serve them warm from the oven with a cup of espresso for a very grown-up dessert.
Here’s a photo of the Guava and Cheese Abuelitas below.
Ingredients:
8 oz cream cheese, softened
1 Tbsp lime juice
2 Tbsp sugar
4 oz guava paste (see Cook’s Note)
1 15 oz box rolled refrigerated pie dough, brought to room temperature (see Cook’s Note)
Cooking oil spray
PREPARATION:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In a medium bowl, thoroughly mix the cream cheese, lime juice, and sugar. Cut the guava paste into four slices. Cut each slice in half lengthwise, and cut each of these halves into three pieces, giving you 24 small pieces. Unroll the pie crusts and use a cookie cutter or drinking glass to cut the dough into 2 1/2 inch rounds to make 24 pieces (12 from each roll of pie dough). Lightly coat mini muffin pans with cooking spray and gently press a dough circle into each cup. Add about a teaspoon of cheese to each cup and push a piece of guava paste into the cheese.
Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Allow to cool for a few minutes before serving.
Makes 24 mini cups.
Cook’s Notes:
Refrigerated pie dough rolls come two to a box and can be found in the refrigerated biscuit dough section of the supermarket.
Guava paste comes in a rectangular block and is available in the International foods section of the supermarket. If guava paste is not available, guava jelly can be substituted.
It won’t be long before the official start of summer; the season of buttered corn, barbecue, lemonade, and chilled, sweet tea. If you grew up not too far from the coast or from an amusement park, there’s also a good chance that you have happy memories of eating salt water taffy on vacation.
Also known as pull candy, basic saltwater taffy usually is made of a combination of sugar, corn syrup, water, and some kind of flavoring. Oddly enough, there’s no saltwater in the taffy itself, although some recent recipes do include a little salt.
“The most popular story, although probably apocryphal, concerns a candy-store owner, Mr. David Bradley, whose shop was flooded during a major storm in 1883. His entire stock of taffy was soaked with salty Atlantic Ocean water. When a young girl asked if he had any taffy for sale, he is said to have sarcastically offered her some ’salt water taffy.’ The girl was delighted, she bought the candy and proudly walked down to the beach to show her friends. Mr. Bradley’s mother was in the back and heard the exchange. She loved the name and so Salt Water Taffy was born.”
A year later, former glassblower and fish monger James Fralinger started selling salt water taffy in his Atlantic City store. Eventually he came up with the idea to sell salt water taffy as a souvenir by packing it in the same one pound oyster boxes he had used during his fish merchant days. This idea was so successful that the company still sells one pound boxes of the taffy, nearly 125 years later.
Commercial salt water taffy is now most often made by machine, but originally was entirely handmade.
According to the folks at Shriver’s in Ocean City, NJ:
“To pull the taffy one would use a large hook. The hooks would hold the taffy while the “puller” would stretch, twist and pull the taffy to the right consistency. Then, each piece would be cut to fit the paper and wrapped… all by hand. Today, the machines used can pull in excess of 100 pounds and wrap approx 300-400 pieces per minute.”
Here’s a video that shows some of the process used today in making saltwater taffy commercially:
If you’re a fan of salt water taffy, you may also have grown up eating Bonomo’s Turkish Taffy when you weren’t able to get the salt water kind.
More of a nougat than a taffy, Bonomo’s hasn’t been available since 1989, but over at Slashfood, they compare Old Time Candy’s French Chew favorably with the vanished Bonomo “taffy”.
With a heat wave sweeping across large parts of the United States, I thought it might be time to remind everyone of mankind’s favorite culinary antidote to rising temperatures…ice cream.
Not just the ordinary ice cream one gets at the supermarket or at the corner store, but homemade ice cream, whether cranked by hand, formed in a ziplock, or made with the help of an electric ice cream maker.
One of the joys of homemade ice cream is that you can make any flavor you’ve ever fantasized about, from peanut-butter Nutella to fig cardamom to mango macadamia and pistachio pomegranate.
One of my fondest memories is running for our departing train in Venice with last-minute hazelnut gelatos…our final, fleeting souvenir of that beautiful city.
I’ll also never forget the sheer sybaritic pleasure of the fresh peach ice cream we had at a country church rummage sale near Waterloo Village.
Here’s a few homemade ice cream recipes to help you find inspiration as you whip up your own original antidotes.
Please join us tomorrow to find out more about our new Halloween inspired recipe with a Southern twist, Red Velvet Devil Dawg Sandwich Cookies.
Imagine for a moment what a patch of water with a hundred or so giant sharks caught up in a massive feeding frenzy would look like. That’s what I was seeing up ahead of us as we plied through the cool, blue, and deceptively serene waters of the Folly River.
Moments later, big swells started rising, seemingly coming from every direction and bouncing Fred’s small but sturdy boat, The Catherine, up and down and side to side and occasionally slamming it down with a filling-loosening crash. I was trying to look casual while keeping a deathgrip on the rail, and I wondered, with a sense of mild horror, if this was what my whole day was going to be like.
Here in South Carolina, shrimping season runs from about mid-May to December and sometimes beyond, depending on how warm the water stays. Most shrimping is done from large trawlers that have dual nets lowered on enormous booms and are dragged for four or five hours at a time through likely areas. To determine if they’re in a good location, the large boats use ‘try nets’, smaller versions that are pulled up every hour or so to see what’s going on down below. If the try net comes up full of shrimp, that means the big nets are filling up, too.
A plain old net dragged through the water would come up with any number of different creatures both large and small, but shrimping nets are very carefully designed to draw in the small and exclude the large. Which is why, when the nets are emptied onto the deck, there are no large fish or turtles, but there are plenty of little things in with the shrimp. This ‘bycatch’, which included baitfish, small crabs, and icky round creatures called jellyballs, is sorted out from the shrimp and tossed overboard. The quick ones swim away; the seagulls take the hindmost. It’s a circle of life thing.
Before I came to the Carolina Lowcountry, I’d eaten plenty of shrimp. Or so I’d thought.
FIRST COURSE: Shrimp, Snow Pea, and Rose Quartz Radish Salad with Blueberry-Tarragon Butter
SECOND COURSE: Coconut Chipotle Mojo Shrimp with Pomegrante Relish
THIRD COURSE: Shrimp, Braised Fennel, and Apricot Medallions with Cilantro Pomegrante Tartar Sauce
SIXTH COURSE: Coastal Carolina Shrimp and Grits Tart
Please join us tomorrow for the last part of our two part series on the joys of ice cream: More Exotic Ice Creams for the Sun-Ravaged Soul, which will feature a roundup of recipes for delicious flavored ice creams you won’t find at your local supermarket.
Ingredients:
A year later, former glassblower and fish monger 
We’ve gotten a great suggestion in response to yesterday’s blog post, 
What was the best homemade ice cream you ever had? What exotic ice cream do you dream of making (or trying) someday?
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