I wonder when they will run out of ideas on how to cook a crab. We only know too well about the chilli and black or white pepper versions here, but dig a little deeper, and concepts that range from the weird, wonderful, brave and simplistic will surface. I have not met one version I did not like, especially so when the crabs are fresh. The creator of the original chilli crabs (the ex Palm Beach owners and current matriarch of Roland’s Seafood Restaurant) Mdm Cher Yam Tin, was once simply boiling, barbequing and steaming the crustaceans before a bored regular suggested she up the spice quotient with chilli sauce in the 1950s. She did just that, and the rest is, of course, history. The folks at Dragon Phoenix later jazzed up that spice tempo with a supremely delicate spice paste, smoothened with eggs, which is the version many of us today adore (and who won’t mop up that sauce with mantou bread?). In Ipoh, where I was researching for our Malaysian Makansutra edition, a chef had it claypot beehoon, but he left the top shell inverted, cracked an egg over and steamed it in it’s natural juice and placed it atop the claypot. He won me over that day. Then there was a chef in a seafood restaurant in Bangkok who de-shelled a crab, mixed the meat with water chestnuts, pepper, Chinese wine and tossed it with egg white. He stuffed the mixture back into the top shell and baked it. I fainted in joy over that meal. And how can I forget how chef Kishio Watanabe(of Hachi Restaurant) artfully sliced, in one deft and confident downward chop (with his fancy pancy Japanese knife) the long shelled legs of a boiled Alaskan snow crab. The six inches crab that eased out, in its natural goodness, was the sweetest slivers I have ever devoured. I was full of trepidation and yet all excited about the eventual sensation when a Teochew porridge cook offered me raw (yes, fresh and uncooked) crabs that was “purified” in lime, ginger, dark caramelized soy and chilli sauce, poured over it and textured atop with crushed roasted peanuts. I conquered my fear with raw pleasure in that meal.

Then there’s Peter Ang, a former car mechanic turned failed crab farmer who decided to pleasure where it pleased the foodie - by selling crabs, and only crabs. Brave is the chef who decides to sell only one item and succeeds. “Too much work and not much money in crab farming, and also, bad weather and pollution can kill all my crabs. Very risky, sell crabs better.”, and with that realization, Peter set up this little hawker stall four years ago selling only grilled crabs. “You have to know the suppliers well and have a good relationship with them, otherwise you won’t get a regular and good quality supply”, he answered when I asked about the industry practice of “taking care of your crab supplier” phenomenon. He uses only Sri Lanka crabs as their quality are by now, legendary. Crabs supplies are dwindling as folks in a newly rich China and Hong Kong are snapping them up these days. He does not sell much of it as he can only get only about less than 35 crabs daily and they average about 600 grams each (perfect for one peckish person). He touts them at around $20 each, depending on supply rates.

Each crab weighs in at around 600grams and are laden with roe and coloured with three dips, mayonnaise, wasabi soy and sambal.

What he does to the crabs and what lures them in each evening (he sells out each night), is the devilishly simple way he cooks the red crustaceans. He boils them, cools and cleans it and then displays it in his shelf lined with bright green plastic carpet. Upon order, he smears them with a own-made sweet, savoury and spicy black pepper paste and grills it for smokiness. He simply quarters the crab and serve them with three dips- mayonnaise, wasabi soy and sambal, in a special container as he believes in “ser, siang, wei”, the Chinese concept of having colour, fragrance and flavour, in food. The ultimate pleasure I had in the three times I’ve had it there, was the roe-ful sensation. He uses only the “double decker” female crabs (they are laden with roe and the shell just below the eyes are wider and sometimes have hairline cracks which indicates so) which are also used as “cold crabs” in some Teochew or Hakka restaurants.

Every bite was a pleasure. The meat was fresh, sweet and softly firm (a Sri Lanka crab signature) and it had a thick stack of soft creamy roe. I didn’t care too much for the sauces as it was beautifully sweet on its own and I did not want to risk introducing an extra taste to mar the sensation.

When asked how he could tell if the crabs are indeed from Sri Lanka, “ I can tell by the shell colour, they have a deep green turquoise glow. To me, it is very distinct.”, Peter educates. To me, this meal was very distinct too.