Notes » Hairy Crab
Notes » August 2007
Hairy Crab
If you like crab, consider visiting Hong Kong in November.
That's when hairy crabs make their annual appearance. Shanghai hairy crab (上海毛蟹), or Sheung Hoi mouh haaih in Cantonese, is a freshwater, bottom-dwelling species (Eriocheir sinensis) known for the swatches of dark hair on its claws and around the underbelly. In November, Yangtze delta hairy crabs produce roe, which makes them an even more highly prized delicacy.
During peak season, you can't avoid seeing hairy crabs. Whichever way you turn, small shops and restaurants display row upon row of bound crustaceans, most often inside glass-door refrigerators, which helps keep them alive and fresh.
Hairy crabs from Yangcheng Lake in the Jiangsu province are the most famous, with the reputation for being the best tasting of the entire crab spectrum. Aficionados attribute the fine flavour to the lake's environment: clean, shallow, sun-drenched waters promote the growth of food that crabs like to eat, which in turn means hearty crabs, while the hard lake bottom compels the crabs to move about to feed, which develops their leg muscles.
But that doesn't mean there's a lot of meat to eat; the crabs aren't much bigger than the palm of one's hand. Many Hong Kong epicures eschew the meat altogether, preferring instead to consume only the roe; this is known as eating "tycoon style": showing that you can afford to discard the uneaten leg meat. Other connoisseurs wouldn't dream of abandoning meat laced with a subtle hint of sweetness. Either way, eating a hairy crab is a messy affair; one must crack open the shell to extract the roe, while getting at the meat in the legs requires a lot of scraping. Medical school students don't perform that much surgery.
The real problem is finding authentic Yangcheng Lake hairy crabs in Hong Kong; as with so many imported mainland Chinese food products, counterfeit crabs abound. Studies estimate that one in 70 crabs sold as coming from Yangcheng Lake is genuine. The Jiangsu is dotted with lakes; crab pirates raise a species so close to Eriocheir sinensis that it's almost impossible to tell them apart. By claiming a crab's origin is Yangcheng Lake, pirates can take a crustacean worth US$5 and increase the price tenfold. Several years ago Yangcheng fisheries began using laser imprinters to etch an ID number into a crab's shell as it was harvested, but counterfeiters needed only 10 days to buy the machines and duplicate the system, rendering it useless.
So how can you tell a bona fide crab from a bogus one? One way is to check for golden hair and claw-tips, a result of iron in the soil at Yangcheng Lake. Another method is to place a live crab on a tabletop to see how well it walks; if it lacks power and speed, it most likely came from a lake with a soft, silty bottom and thus didn't need to develop the leg strength needed to survive in Yangcheng Lake.
Authentic or not, a hairy crab in Hong Kong can't escape its fate: to be bound, flipped on its back (so that its carapace collects the roe, which becomes aqueous during cooking), and then steamed alive. For Hong Kongers, that's about as fresh as it gets. Because traditional Chinese medicine considers crab to be a cooling, or yin food, restaurants often serve ginger tea, a warming, or yang drink, to restore balance in the body. The more crab you eat, the more tea you'll have to drink.
For those of you who don't like or can't eat crab, yet find yourselves in Hong Kong in November, you don't have to feel left out: there's always a nice hot bowl of snake soup waiting just down the street.
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