Tangier Island Virginia Crab Cakes

February 2022, and the seventh year of this journal begins with the particular awareness that seven is the biblical number of completion, and the completion I am working toward — the cookbook — is now one hundred and fifty pages long, which is not complete but is substantial, which is to say the book has weight now, the way a baby has weight at six months: not fully formed but undeniably present, undeniably alive, undeniably becoming.

Mama requires more care than Ruth alone can provide. The mornings are longer, the nights are harder, the space between what Mama can do for herself and what must be done for her is widening with the relentless patience of a river carving a canyon. Robert and I have discussed hiring additional help — an evening aide, someone to cover the gap between Ruth's departure at four and Mama's bedtime at eight. The gap is four hours. The gap is the hardest four hours of my day.

I cut back to four days at the library — not a dramatic change but a necessary one, the shift of a woman who is dividing herself between a mother who needs care and a building that needs leadership and a book that needs writing and a husband who needs companionship and a self that needs something I cannot name but that I feel when I stand at the stove and cook and the cooking is the only thing I do that is entirely mine.

Carrie is in her spring semester at Emory — the semester that includes the JET Programme application, the application that will determine whether Carrie goes to Japan after graduation, not for a semester but for a year or more. She is applying with the confidence of a woman who has already lived in Kyoto and who considers the application a formality, which is both arrogance and accuracy, and the combination is Carrie.

I made Mama's oyster stew — the February luxury, Bowens Island oysters, cream and butter and the particular richness that winter demands. The stew was for Robert and me, because Mama can no longer eat oysters (the texture too difficult, the chewing too demanding), and the inability to eat the stew is one more thing on the list of things the disease has taken, and the list is long, and I do not write it down, because writing the list would be a different kind of book than the one I am writing.

The oyster stew was always Mama’s, and now it is mine alone — mine and Robert’s — and there is a grief in that I have learned to cook around rather than through. These Tangier Island Virginia Crab Cakes are what I reach for when I need the same thing the stew once gave us: something rich and coastal and particular, something that tastes like the water it came from, something that feels like a small, deliberate act of beauty in the middle of a hard season. I cannot give Mama the texture of the sea anymore, but I can stand at my stove and make something worthy of the tradition she started, and that, for now, is enough.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 32 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb fresh lump crab meat, picked over for shells
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs, divided
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons neutral oil (such as canola)
Lemon wedges, for serving

Instructions

Combine the wet mixture. In a large bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, egg, Dijon mustard, Worcestershire sauce, Old Bay, salt, pepper, parsley, and lemon juice until smooth and well incorporated.
Fold in the crab. Add the crab meat and 1/4 cup of the breadcrumbs to the bowl. Using a rubber spatula, fold gently until just combined — take care not to break up the lump crab more than necessary.
Form the cakes. Spread the remaining 1/4 cup breadcrumbs on a shallow plate. Shape the crab mixture into 8 cakes, roughly 1 inch thick. Gently press each cake into the breadcrumbs to coat both sides. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet and refrigerate for at least 15 minutes to help them hold their shape.
Pan-fry in butter and oil. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, melt the butter with the oil until the foam subsides and the fat shimmers. Add the crab cakes in a single layer without crowding — work in two batches if needed. Cook undisturbed for 4 to 5 minutes until a deep golden crust forms on the bottom.
Flip and finish. Carefully flip each cake and cook for an additional 3 to 4 minutes until the second side is equally golden and the cakes are heated through. Transfer to a paper-towel-lined plate.
Serve immediately. Arrange on a warm platter with lemon wedges alongside. A simple green salad or roasted asparagus complements the richness without competing with it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tangier Island Virginia Crab Cakes — The Luxury We Keep for Ourselves