Butternut Bisque with Crab

Behind every good recipe is a great adventure. And I promise that this one, will not disappoint. Or actually it will disappoint but only briefly. First, the butternut soup, then the live crab part of the equation…

Butternut bisque is like a jazz standard, seemingly simple in it’s melody yet nuanced with individual character and inflection; always promising to bring soul warming satisfaction to its audience. I have made this bisque or soup (it is naturally thick and creamy and no, I did not sauté live crabs for the base) a hundred different ways.

But I think I’ve hit upon the perfect medley after all these years, which is subtle in it’s layering of flavors and truly satisfying. You see, all butternuts are not created equal — some are sweet and some devoid of flavor.

In this recipe I add a sweet and acidic Opal apple that balances out even the blandest of butternuts and also fennel, yellow onion, shallot and homemade chicken stock. There is some serious depth of flavor in the basic melody here and it all comes across as butternut in the final composition.

Now, onto the Dungeness crab. The garnish. The highlight of every Winter here in the Bay Area. Hold your stomachs…

I don’t know what I did to deserve a family that doesn’t like turkey but I am THE ONLY person in my small tribe (minus Little Bean, the pup) who seriously enjoys a beautifully browned Butterball! I love the aroma that fills the house while roasting. I love the leftovers. I can wax poetic from here to eternity about roasted turkey.

My husband, not so much. My daughter Layla, not so much. My daughter Hettie Rose, maybe, but she’s not even two years old and she can only eat a small amount. True, Little Bean, would probably devour the whole bird bones and all if my back was turned but, still, why spend a whole day cooking if the only person who wants to get stuffed is ME?

Since this Thanksgiving holiday is just nuts with Covid restrictions and there are no in-laws to impress or relatives to refill, my husband suggests we do “something else” besides turkey. And I’m like: “Ohhh-kayyyyy….” (pouty face, passive aggressive body language, why do you hate everything I love?). And then Layla is like: “Yeah, I don’t like turkey either.” And I’m like: “YOU’VE NEVER EVEN HAD TURKEY HOW CAN YOU HATE IT?!?!?”.

Oh motherhood, Oh marriage, Oh daughter of an Executive Chef – I know, what are the chances right? Hello? God?!? Anytime you wanna fill me in on my little sin here that caused this avalanche of poultry haters, just go ahead. I’m listening! I’m ready to repent!

Then my hubby says: “You know, I got an invite to go crabbing, how about Dungeness crab for Thanksgiving?”. I stop in my tracks because I LOVE Dungeness crab, I can go to town on crab. I normally serve it the night before Christmas but, in a world turned upside down, why not? Crab mac n’ cheese for the kids and fresh cracked crab for us. Parfait!

So, with this settled, Ramin leaves at 4 A.M. Thanksgiving morning after two hours of glorious sleep (thank you Hettie Rose, you baby you) to meet up with some buddies on the docks in Berkeley for a fun fishing adventure. And these guys come prepared: they dress in layers knowing it will be cold, fill backpacks with bagels and lox, strong coffee and scotch. This is going to be a fun day on the Bay! I can’t tell you how much Ramin is personally looking forward to it.

But just like the weather can change in the blink of an eye, the adventure turns turbulent as soon as they step off solid ground. The boat they board is a wee bit smaller than expected, it is not safe or well equipped, there are no life jackets and it is oversold – passengers are cramped together most with little or no sailing experience and some are dressed for a beach in Cabo, not a day on the Bay. “Oh well” thinks Ramin to himself, “We’ll only be out for a few hours, how bad can it be?”.

The boat slowly chugs out of its slip, sun barely cresting the mountains behind, waves as smooth as a baby’s bottom and heads towards the glorious Golden Gate, the iconic San Francisco bridge and entrance to the Pacific ocean and world at large –– freedom! Ramin’s buddies pour hot toddies all around. They take pictures from the bow of the boat. They enjoy a little sea spray in the face and the crisp cold morning air. It is brisk and beautiful. It is the perfect Thanksgiving morning. Grateful. Thankful. Blessed…..

But, as the freezing cold Winter sun comes up so does the whipping wind and rollicking waves – and the bagels, lox and hot toddies. No one, not a SINGLE person, on the boat is well.

Now there is a big difference between a challenge and a situation that you have no control over – one where there is no road to success. One where freezing cold waves are pummeling you and your body is shivering uncontrollably and your knees are locking up unable to buoy the bounce of the slamming waves. One where you are trying your best to vomit privately and respect Covid restrictions, one where there is no place to sit down because everything is covered in squid slime or throw-up. And one where the captain of the boat is refusing to turn around regardless of his extremely sick passengers – some who are kids.

My husband is an expert diver, an open water life guard and a seasoned sailor. To say that this is the ‘fishing trip from hell’ is an understatement. Hunter S. Thompson couldn’t create a bad acid trip more surreal and horrific if he tried. The smell of diesel mixed with cigarette smoke, vomit and old fish replaces the sweet salty sea air. Wild wet whomping waves replace the glassy calm of early morn. The wind, an angry tempest of destruction, replaces the flirty breeze they set out with.

An adventure that began all-for-one and one-for-all rapidly turns into individual survival. And yet the captain insists on going out The Gate to the Farallons, an island known for its unpredictable currents and numerous shipwrecks off its coast, to retrieve his crab pots. No one thought they’d be going out The Gate today – it was supposed to be a simple day on the Bay.

The crew pulls up enormous crab pots amidst waves breaking off the bow one by one. A messy and difficult affair for sure, the crab pots often slipping from their hoist and falling back into the blue depths below while simultaneously soaking everyone aboard head to toe with freezing cold salt water. They fill the massive chests on deck with their clickety-clackety catch. The passengers keep hoping/wishing that each crab pot will be the last but they are seemingly unending.

My Thanksgiving day back at home is also no picnic. Two toddlers, no sleep, a ton of preparations for our so-called simple dinner. Extreme fatigue to the point of nausea. And a nagging suspicion that something is very wrong. I text my husband around 1 P.M. my spider senses tingling, he’s been gone now for six hours. A cryptic text comes back: “Worst idea ever”.

I know my husband. And I know that a text like this means exactly what it states: WORST idea EVER. I text rapid fire back asking for more details as panic fills my heart with ice but, Ramin’s fingers can barely write and he is afraid of loosing his phone overboard. His next text reads: “Sick. Can’t text. Freezing. Farallons.”.

Nine hours later Ramin returns home shivering with hyperthermia, barely able to walk straight, bag of 10 enormous crabs slung over his shoulder like a Santa from the South Pole. He dumps the crab bag on our outdoor table, heads straight for a hot shower barely able to talk and then to bed, covers pulled up to his chin and thick wool hat pulled down around his ears. He cannot get warm. He cannot sleep because his body is still rolling with the waves.

Meanwhile I prepare our dinner. Not that anyone wants it. I retrieve the bag of crabs to find they are still alive! Quelle Suprise! The crabs were supposed to be cooked on the boat! A big fat crab grabs my pointer finger and slices it open with a pinch from his massive claw. I pry his pincher open, finger bleeding, and toss him back in the bag – I’ll definitely cook him first. But, I really don’t want to be dealing with live crabs now, it’s just an added hurdle to a long distance race.

It’s not that I can’t cook crab, I can! But I don’t have enormous pots to get the job done efficiently and I’m not particularly fond of listening to garbled crab screams as I plunge them head first in boiling water. It doesn’t make me feel good. It’s easier to kill lobsters – I just take my knife and quickly kill them blade through the brain in seconds flat. But you can’t do that to crabs unless you want a very messy crab boil.

With three of my biggest pots on the stove I cook and crack his catch. I’m not happy, I’m exhausted and Ramin is beyond sick, he might as well be a ghost on a deep sea shipwreck. This is not the Thanksgiving we had hoped for by any stretch of the imagination.

Ramin comes downstairs to help out and watch the kids as I finish up preparations. He is beat up, his eyes swimming in his head, his every step searching for solid ground, his head pounding, his body shivering, his teeth chattering like one of those funny chomping windup toys.

Children have a funny way of knowing when you are at your breaking point and they like to push you over the edge. I am convinced this is a gene built into every child that probably has something to do with survival although it’s counter intuitive. After much debate, it’s clear that our kids will not eat the crab after watching me cook it and smelling the fishy crab boil aroma that is anything but mouth watering. I cook them steaks instead with rice and put the ipad on the dining table for them to feast on Disney instead. This is not a tradition I intend to keep. This is Mommy survival.

For Ramin and myself I start our dinner with scallops on the half shell cooked in a lovely white wine saffron cream sauce. Followed by this beautiful butternut soup garnished with Dungeness crab tossed in drawn butter.

Ramin is not a soup guy – soup is the last thing on the menu he will order. But I can tell with every spoonful that my butternut bisque is warming him up, bringing him back to life, straightening the rolling rug beneath his tired feet. We dig into a mountain of cracked crab and a delicious winter greens salad and finish with my Mom’s signature poached pear tart.

We relax in our chairs too tired to talk staring at our children engrossed in their movie, listening to jazz and decompressing. Our Thanksgiving is by far the worst, however the crab is by far the best – so fresh, so tender, so sweet. I’d like so say, “So worth it” but Ramin cuts me to the chase with a different perspective: “You know, the next time I buy crab and they tell me it’s seven bucks a pound, I’ll give them ten instead”.

The song ‘Somewhere Beyond the Sea’, comes over the radio – an old jazz standard about love lost and the ever changing nature of the sea. It’s a French adaption of the Le Mer and a perfect ending to a rollicking wet sea adventure. This soup, is sure to be a new tradition at our Thanksgiving table, the crabbing adventure? Not so much.

Scallops in Saffron Cream: https://www.amyglaze.com/scallops-in-saffron-cream/

Pear and Almond Tart: http://www.amyglaze.com/pear-and-almond-tart/

Butternut Bisque with Crab

Ingredients

• 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 ½ cups chopped yellow onion
• 1 medium shallot, chopped
• 1 medium fennel bulb, core removed, chopped
• 1 Opal apple, cored and chopped (sweet and tart)
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 4 ½ cups peeled butternut squash in 2-inch cubes
• 4 cups chicken stock
• Kosher Salt
• Garnish
• Dungeness crab tossed in drawn butter
• Fried Pancetta
• Crème fraîche
• Tarragon & Chive
• Apple slices, if desired
• Tiny croutons

To Cook Live Crabs, Check out my old post here: http://www.amyglaze.com/crab-boil-how-to-cook-live-crabs/

Heat the oil on medium, in a heavy large saucepan. When it shimmers, add the onions and shallot, reduce heat to low, and sweat gently until they are tender but not browned (about 2 minutes). Add the garlic, fennel and apple and cook a few minutes more. Add the butternut and cover with chicken stock. Simmer until squash is fork tender, about 15 minutes.

Cool the mixture (unless you enjoy handling boiling sloshy soup) and purée in batches in a Vitaprep until smooth. Remember, you can always add more liquid at the end but you can't take it away so just add enough liquid to purée. Season soup with salt to taste and either return to a clean saucepan to reheat immediately or refrigerator until ready to use.

When ready to serve, reheat soup on medium heat, re-taste seasoning. Ladle into bowls and add buttered crab garnish, a little dollop of sour cream, a sprinkling of crispy croutons and pancetta, and a few sprigs of tarragon and/or chopped chives