Crab chute
When last I was able to post, Grandma and I were about to venture out to Locust Point for steamed blue crabs. Jeremy had recommended a little ma and pop place called LP Steamers. Although very excited to be returning to the land of blue crab and hammers, Grandma was a bit leary when we arrived round 6:30pm. We were both completely confused by the waitress who came over and said, I kid you not, "Okay, they're going fast so I want to make sure to get it in. We have 12 $75, 12 $60, 18 $30 and like 25 $20. Do you know what you want?"
Being the elegant and sophisticated one, I took up the charge, blinking with the dazed appearance of a person too quickly out of the sun. She just hitched back and forth and waited. "Um, excuse me, we haven't done this before. You have what?" And when she started to rattle off the list again, "Again, sorry. What does that mean?" She didn't actually roll her eyes but the long-suffering sigh made it clear we were complete morons in her book. It didn't help any when we asked her what she thought we needed or should get.
Rereading this passage, I feel I should probably make it clear that the waitress wasn't trying to be rude or snotty. It was just incomprehensible to her that someone could be so clueless with regard to crabs. Or at least incomprehensible that they could simultaneously be so clueless and yet still have made their way into their place, well off the beaten tourist path. Eventually, between us, we succeeded in ordering a dozen $30 and coleslaw. Having done my homework, I also ordered beer while Grandma enjoyed a chilled merlot. She found it surprisingly acceptable.
One thing confused me as we waited for our crabs. There didn't appear to be a kitchen. Or, more accurately, the orders for crab appeared to be relayed to the floorboards, not to a person. And Bill did not come from the back when delivering an order but came in from the street. Using my extensive deductive reasoning skills, hah!, I soon pieced together that orders were shouted to Bill in the basement through the floor. After he prepared the crabs, Bill brought them up and into the restaurant via the street. Eventually Bill took me down through the coal chute on a tour of the basement. Here he is bringing up an order.
Being the elegant and sophisticated one, I took up the charge, blinking with the dazed appearance of a person too quickly out of the sun. She just hitched back and forth and waited. "Um, excuse me, we haven't done this before. You have what?" And when she started to rattle off the list again, "Again, sorry. What does that mean?" She didn't actually roll her eyes but the long-suffering sigh made it clear we were complete morons in her book. It didn't help any when we asked her what she thought we needed or should get.
Rereading this passage, I feel I should probably make it clear that the waitress wasn't trying to be rude or snotty. It was just incomprehensible to her that someone could be so clueless with regard to crabs. Or at least incomprehensible that they could simultaneously be so clueless and yet still have made their way into their place, well off the beaten tourist path. Eventually, between us, we succeeded in ordering a dozen $30 and coleslaw. Having done my homework, I also ordered beer while Grandma enjoyed a chilled merlot. She found it surprisingly acceptable.
One thing confused me as we waited for our crabs. There didn't appear to be a kitchen. Or, more accurately, the orders for crab appeared to be relayed to the floorboards, not to a person. And Bill did not come from the back when delivering an order but came in from the street. Using my extensive deductive reasoning skills, hah!, I soon pieced together that orders were shouted to Bill in the basement through the floor. After he prepared the crabs, Bill brought them up and into the restaurant via the street. Eventually Bill took me down through the coal chute on a tour of the basement. Here he is bringing up an order.
posted by Jacqui at 9:53 AM
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