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Crab Lo Mein — Because the Crab Always Brings Me Home

June is here and the heat is serious now. Not playing-around heat — real, heavy, Savannah heat that makes the air feel like wet wool. The marsh smells stronger in the heat, that rich, salty, organic smell that tourists wrinkle their noses at and locals breathe in like perfume. I open the windows at dawn before the AC kicks in, just to let the marsh come through the house. Earl used to say, "Close the windows, Dot, it's ninety degrees." I'd say, "The marsh is talking." He'd say, "The marsh says it's hot."

I laugh at the memory. That's new — laughing instead of crying. Not instead of. In addition to. I can hold both now. The laugh and the grief, the memory and the absence. They exist together, like salt and sweet in a good dish. You need both.

Kayla came over Saturday and we did something we've never done before: she brought her iPad and we looked up recipes from Sapelo Island. Gullah-Geechee recipes — real ones, from the elders, the ones that are disappearing as the old folks die and the young ones leave the islands. We found a recipe for red rice that was almost exactly Mama's, and a recipe for crab rice that I remember eating at my great-aunt's house when I was six, and a recipe for okra soup that made my heart hurt because it was Pearl's — my great-grandmother's — or close enough to be hers.

I told Kayla about Pearl. About Sapelo Island. About the woman who cooked over an open fire and spoke half English and half something older. About how Earl had promised to take me to Sapelo, and how he died before we went, and how I still want to go — need to go — to stand where Pearl stood and see the water she saw and maybe understand something about where this all started.

Kayla said, "Let's go, Granny. This summer. Let's go to Sapelo." And I looked at that girl — Michael's daughter, the nurse, the one who brought me shrimp and grits when I'd stopped cooking — and I said, "Okay, baby. Let's go."

Made crab rice tonight. Sapelo-style, with blue crab from the marsh. The rice was red with tomato and the crab was sweet and it tasted like something I'd eaten before I had words for it. Ancestral food. Ghost food. Home.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The night I made the crab rice, Kayla stayed for dinner and we ate every last bit of it standing over the stove. But she called the next morning and said she’d been thinking about crab all day — not the ancestral kind, just the hungry kind — and asked if I’d make something with it again. So I did. This Crab Lo Mein is not Pearl’s recipe and it is not Sapelo, but it is sweet blue crab from the same marsh, and it is made with the same hands that are finally, slowly, learning to cook for joy again. Some nights the food is a prayer. Some nights it’s just Tuesday and somebody’s hungry and the crab is fresh.

Crab Lo Mein

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 8 oz lo mein noodles (or spaghetti)
  • 1 lb lump crab meat, picked over for shells
  • 2 tbsp vegetable oil
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tsp fresh ginger, grated
  • 2 cups green cabbage, thinly shredded
  • 1 cup carrots, julienned or shredded
  • 1 cup cremini mushrooms, sliced
  • 3 green onions, sliced (whites and greens separated)
  • 3 tbsp soy sauce
  • 1 tbsp oyster sauce
  • 1 tsp sesame oil
  • 1/2 tsp white pepper
  • 1 tsp cornstarch dissolved in 2 tbsp water

Instructions

  1. Cook the noodles. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook lo mein noodles according to package directions until just tender. Drain, rinse briefly with cold water, and toss with a drizzle of sesame oil to prevent sticking. Set aside.
  2. Prep the sauce. In a small bowl, stir together the soy sauce, oyster sauce, sesame oil, white pepper, and cornstarch slurry. Set aside.
  3. Stir-fry aromatics. Heat vegetable oil in a large wok or skillet over high heat until shimmering. Add garlic, ginger, and the white parts of the green onions. Stir-fry for 30 seconds until fragrant, being careful not to burn.
  4. Cook the vegetables. Add the cabbage, carrots, and mushrooms to the wok. Stir-fry over high heat for 3 to 4 minutes, tossing frequently, until the cabbage is just wilted and the carrots are tender-crisp.
  5. Add the crab. Reduce heat to medium. Gently fold in the crab meat and toss just once or twice — you want to warm it through without breaking the lumps apart. Cook 1 to 2 minutes.
  6. Combine with noodles. Add the cooked noodles to the wok and pour the sauce over everything. Use tongs to toss gently until the noodles are evenly coated and glossy and everything is heated through, about 2 minutes.
  7. Finish and serve. Taste for seasoning and adjust soy sauce if needed. Plate and scatter the green tops of the green onions over each serving. Serve immediately while hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 385 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 50g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 920mg

Dorothy Henderson
About the cook who shared this
Dorothy Henderson
Week 166 of Dorothy’s 30-year story · Savannah, Georgia
Dot Henderson is a seventy-one-year-old grandmother, a retired school lunch lady, and the undisputed queen of Lowcountry cooking in her corner of Savannah, Georgia. She spent thirty-five years feeding schoolchildren — sneaking extra portions to the ones who looked hungry — and now she feeds her seven grandchildren every Sunday without exception. She cooks with lard, seasons by feel, and ends every recipe the same way her mama did: "Now go on and feed somebody."

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