Today's Column Will Satisfy Those Who Lust After Crab Cakes

Right now, I can think of 3,283 reasons why you should stop reading this column - unless you have a passion for crab cakes. Merely liking crab cakes won't get it; you have to lust after the damned things to sustain any interest in what follows.

Crab cakes are indigenous to Maryland. They are all over the place. Crab cakes in Baltimore are like beans, or cod, in Boston; like steak in Kansas City; like oysters in New Orleans; like fresh salmon and espresso in Seattle.

For most of my life, I read about crab cakes in Maryland. But then I made the mistake once of going there, or at least the mistake of ordering them in several restaurants - always hoping for that singular taste triumph so highly trumpeted.

In recent years, crab cakes have made an appearance in Seattle. For the most part, they turned out to be better than the ones I remembered on the East Coast.

The other day, as it happens, I was browsing through ``The Great American Seafood Cookbook.'' It was written by a lady named Susan Hermann Loomis, who once lived here, but is now - I'm told - residing in New York.

Here are some things she had to say about these concoctions:

``Crab cakes are to Maryland what bubbles are to soda. Everywhere you go in Maryland, from restaurants to roadside stands, you'll find crab cakes, and they range from sublime to awful.''

My experience was slightly different. Everywhere I went, I

found the crab cakes to range from unfortunate to inedible.

Loomis said she searched ``all over Maryland for the perfect crab cake to no avail.'' She doesn't mention any that were sublime.

But she did find the perfect crab-cake recipe - in South Carolina. A friend of hers, she says, ``has made crab cakes for years and she uses a traditional Maryland recipe with a little extra crab.' ''

So the other night, to avoid being picked up as a street delinquent, I stayed home and made crab cakes. According to Loomis' ``perfect'' recipe, here's how it goes:

The ingredients consist of 1/2 cup of soft fresh bread crumbs; 1 large egg; 5 tablespoons of mayonnaise; two scallions (or green onions) chopped up; 1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley; 1 teaspoon dry mustard; salt and pepper; then 1 pound of cooked crab meat.

All this is mixed together, holding back 1 tablespoon of mayonnaise. If the mixture seems too dry, use the tablespoon you held back.

Shaped into patties, the crab cakes are fried in unsalted butter and bland vegetable oil over medium-high heat.

I won't go so far as to say these crab cakes were sublime. But they were certainly better than any I found in Maryland, or locally.

My guru in matters like this is, of course, Francois Kissel, of Maximilien-in-the-Market. When I showed him the above recipe, he did not flinch, possibly out of politeness, but he made a couple of suggestions.

``Crab,'' he said, ``is boiled, then washed and frequently frozen. It loses some sweetness. So instead of dry mustard, I would use a mixture of Japanese green mustard and Dijon, to reintroduce the sweetness.''

Chinese chives or regular chives, in season, could also be added to the crab-cake mixture. In this case, Kissel says, it would be wise to saute the scallions.

``Use unsalted butter and olive oil, not vegetable oil,'' he said. ``You might even try a little finely chopped apple in the mixture.''

Now you know more than you care to know about crab cakes.

mmett Watson's column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday in the Northwest section of The Times.