By The house is settling in and so are we. The living room is painted (Comforting Fog, Megan's masterpiece). The bedroom is furnished (real bed frame, matching nightstands, the kind of bedroom that says "adults sleep here"). The bathroom has been de-carpeted (the carpet was removed with the solemnity of a burial and the celebration of a liberation). The kitchen is functional and beautiful and mine.
We still haven't started on the second bedroom. The one that could be a nursery. The one that sits empty and waiting, with white walls and good light and the ghost of what it might become. Megan and I don't talk about it. We don't avoid it either. We just let it be empty and potential and quiet. The room will have a purpose when the purpose arrives.
At the brewery, I'm in the tenth year of my career at Lakefront. Ten years since I started loading kegs as a nineteen-year-old. Ten years of learning grain and yeast and patience and the art of making something from almost nothing. The head brewer acknowledged it in his way — he bought me a beer after shift and said, "Ten years." I said, "Ten years." He said, "You're not the kid anymore." I said, "You still call me kid." He said, "I'll always call you kid." He will. That's okay. Some things don't need to change.
Made a summer corn and shrimp boil on the patio — the full production, newspaper on the table, everything dumped out in a heap. Corn, shrimp, potatoes, sausage, Old Bay. Eaten with hands. Messy. Loud. Tom and Linda came. Patrick and Colleen came. Megan's friend Jen came. The backyard was full of people eating with their hands and laughing. This is what the house is for. Not just for us. For everyone.
The shrimp boil was the main event, but the hour before — when people were still arriving and Tom was opening beers and Jen hadn’t stopped talking since she walked through the gate — that’s when you need something to put on the table that says we’re glad you’re here before the newspaper even goes down. This crab spread became my go-to for exactly those moments: something rich and coastal and easy enough that I could throw it together while Megan finished the potatoes, and something that fits the spirit of a night where the whole point is using your hands and being loud together.
Crab Spread
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 8 oz cream cheese, softened
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 1 tablespoon mayonnaise
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1/2 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
- 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/4 teaspoon hot sauce, or to taste
- 8 oz lump crab meat, drained and picked over for shells
- 2 green onions, thinly sliced
- 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- Crackers, toasted baguette slices, or sliced vegetables for serving
Instructions
- Mix the base. In a medium bowl, beat the softened cream cheese until smooth. Add the sour cream, mayonnaise, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, Old Bay, garlic powder, and hot sauce. Stir until fully combined and creamy.
- Fold in the crab. Gently fold in the lump crab meat, being careful not to break up the lumps too much — you want texture in every bite. Stir in the sliced green onions and half the parsley.
- Season and taste. Taste and adjust with salt, black pepper, additional lemon juice, or hot sauce as needed. The spread should be savory, slightly tangy, and have a good kick of Old Bay.
- Chill or serve immediately. Transfer to a serving bowl. If time allows, refrigerate for 30 minutes to let the flavors come together. Otherwise, serve right away — it’s excellent either way.
- Garnish and serve. Top with remaining parsley and an extra pinch of Old Bay. Serve with crackers, toasted baguette, or crudites alongside.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 160 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 3g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 310mg