Old Bay Crab Stock and Risotto

On the 4th of July, Summer got a big bushel of Eastern Shore crabs, cooked the way they do things 'round here -- steamed or boiled in plenty of Old Bay seasoning. A bunch of us sat around at Dee's, pickin' crabs all day, and we saved all the bits we didn't eat -- shells, small legs, even all the guts and gubbins. At the end of the day, she and I split up the spoils to make stock.

We had some qualms about using the "mustard", "lady fingers", etc -- they're things we don't eat. But I figured that those masters of stock -- The French™ -- wouldn't waste anything so neither would I.

I got a giant pot I used to use for homebrewing, about 8 gallon capacity, and loaded it up with all the shells and offal; it came nearly to the top of the pot.  I added some carrots and celery, and some trimmings of fennel and onion we keep in the freezer for making stock. I added enough water to cover, and it came right up to the edge of the pot.  I brought it to boil then backed it off to a low low simmer.  After a while, I skimmed the scum with a fine mesh skimmer.

Crabs and aromatics, most of the water added, heating up

Usually, fish stocks only simmer for about 45 minutes -- that's all you need to extract the flavor and you don't want to impart a cooked taste. I tried it at about that time, and it seemed a bit weak, so I let it ride another hour or so: crab shells are thicker than fish frames.  I then had to strain it -- no easy feat! I pulled out the bigger shells and set them into strainers over bowls, then pulled out the small stuff to strain, then finally strained the liquid itself.  Whoa, a bit cloudy that!  I ran it through our finest chinois to filter out all the particulates I could, then gave it a taste. Still a bit thin.

I put the now residue-free stock back on the burner and boiled another hour to reduce and concentrate the flavor. Strained it again through the chinois, then set it to to chill in a sink full of ice water. After cooling I covered it and put it in the fridge overnight; it was about 2am by this point.

Next day, I did what we always do: ladelled out the stock into 2- and 4-cup ziptop baggies, laid flat on a cookie sheet, and froze them solid. This gives us good sized packages for cooking with later. I think I got about 3-4 gallons of stock.

It was still a murky greenish brownish color, not particularly appetizing.  I needed to cook something with it to see how it tasted in context and how it looked. I initially planned on doing a seafood risotto, but figured the color might be better for a dark roux gumbo.  But it's summertime here and risotto seemed a better dish, so that's what we made.

I sauteed some shallots and garlic in some nice olive oil, then added the Arborio rice and sauteed it a bit until it turns a bit translucent. Then I added the preheated stock a bit at a time to cover, and cooked and stirred until the rice exuded starches and began to turn tender (no, you don't need to use your grandmother's wooden spoon, or always stir in a clockwise direction; it's pretty forgiving). I kept adding hot stock until the rice was the right texture, with just a bit of a bite left.  We threw some shrimp in at the very end to cook through, then served, garnished with a bit of paprika.

Risotto with shrimp

"This is really good!", exclaimed Irene. It had a definite seafood taste, but not like fish -- it had the sweetness of good Chesapeake Bay blue crabs.  There's a slight hit of heat from the spicy Old Bay, but not overwhelming; the salt level is in check, too. The color was a bit off, not something you'd serve at a white tablecloth restaurant, but I'm willing to overlook that.

Now I'm really glad we saved all the crab bits and made so much stock!