I will always remember the taste of the
crabs we caught that day. The beach was quiet and still at six
o’clock. The tide had just come in, so there were many crabs walking
slowly on the white sand. We sat a few feet away from my father’s
special crab traps. The traps were made of bamboo, and
they looked like round cages, but one side had a small
entrance for the crab to go in. There were some small, fragrant
fish in the trap. The fishy smell made the crabs hungry, so they
crawled into the traps. We watched the crabs walk into the
traps, and I smelled the strong smell of the dark,
oily fish. Overhead, we heard the sounds of seagulls and
pelicans in the sky. I think the seagulls wanted to eat the fish, too.
Once the traps were full, we took off our shoes and threw them over our
shoulders so we could walk on the wet sand and feel the
water pushing and pulling at the beach. Later, we built a fire
and ate boiled crabs on the beach. We cracked their
shells. The meat was white and pinkish and tender. It tasted sweet
and a little salty. We did not want to stop eating crab. We sat on the
sand surrounded by crab shells and watched the sun go down into
the ocean.
From that day on, I knew my father was right.
Food tastes best when it is something that you have caught or grown yourself. I
have eaten crab many times since then, but it has never tasted as good as it
did that day.
