I have often said, that at my funeral nobody is going to say, “You know, she never complained.”
But this isn’t about that kind of crabbing. It’s about my going off on a trip with some girlfriends
and St. Bob immediately driving to San Francisco, to Hayes Street Grill. And what was the urgency for this solo excursion?
Soft Shell Crab,
my friends. This man is crazy for it, and will drive hours and hours to get this
delicacy. It’s hard to find (they’re from Maryland), so when he does, he
pounces. The day he arrived, the restaurant was closed. So, he did what any
sensible man would do—he came home, right?
Wrong. He booked a hotel room and reserved crabs for the following day (and they sold out while he was eating two of them).
These crabs are lightly fried, and you eat the whole thing, shell and all. I plan never to do this. But Bob is a Foodie of extraordinary determination.
I had a great time with my pals, including the final day when we stopped at a casual restaurant with tables alongside a harbor. Suddenly I saw this sign:
Next time he decides to take off
on a wild crab chase, I can save him some valuable time: Just ask moi.
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