Crab Man

As the traps came on board the skiff, we drank our beers watched. The crabs were dumped out of the traps and sorted according to size. If one measured less than five inches point to point (from the end of the spiky point that sticks out from one side of the crab’s shell to the same point on the other side), then the crab went overboard. If the crab measured between five and six inches, it went into the wooden crate with the No. 2’s.

A crab that measured over six inches went into the box with the rest of the prized No. 1’s.

“Most of these crabs will go to Massachusetts, where they sell for $60 a dozen,” Ray said, admiring the largest ones. “Here they sell for $15 a dozen.” As a result, although lots of premium crabs are taken in Texas, few are eaten here. The way around this frustrating dilemma is simple: Do your own crabbing. It’s pretty easy. You can catch all the crabs you want with a chicken neck, a string and a fishing net. Or you can get more sophisticated with an umbrella trap.

I told Ray I planned to go crabbing near East Beach on Galveston Island. He didn’t think that was such a great idea. “The best-tasting crabs come from brackish water,” he said, picking up one of the biggest No. 1’s. “We call them sweetwater crabs.” He turned the crab over and pointed to a fuzzy dark scum that stuck to the shell. “You want to see this black rusty color on the bottom; that’s the sign of a really sweet crab.”

“I always thought that was mud,” I admitted, thinking about making barbecued crabs at home. I already had a fryer, and surely I could find some “zestful seasoning.”

“So if I wanted to eat the ultimate barbecued crabs, I would start out by catching some No. 1 sweetwater crabs,” I said.

“Here, let me get a bucket,” he said. “I’ll give you some of the best crabs you’ll ever eat.” I wondered whether to take them. I was afraid they’d die before I could get them back to Houston, and I didn’t want to ruin such awesome crabs.

“I’ll get them,” Doug said, slipping Ray some folded bills. “We’ll cook them at Emily’s restaurant.” So we headed back with a dozen No. 1 crabs in a bucket in the middle of Doug’s little boat.

“What a nice guy,” I said. “He sure smiles a lot.” “Yeah, he sure does,” said Doug. He went on to tell me that he’d seen Ray out there with crabs hanging all over him, and he didn’t even notice. Then he offered me another beer for the road.

I turned down the third beer. But I was beginning to think I was in the wrong business.

Before accepting Doug’s invitation to go crabbing, I’d already made a date with his ex-wife, Kim Lynch. I was supposed to stop by her restaurant around three in the afternoon. But now things were getting complicated. Doug Sartin was carrying around that bucket of sweetwater No. 1’s. What if he got pissed off and I missed out on the ultimate plate of barbecued crabs?

But as I was getting in my car, Doug told me he’d promised Kim he’d get me to her place at three. Then he gave me directions to the Sartin's in Nederland and said he'd give me a while to talk to her and then come by, and I could follow him over to Emily's place.

I was dumbfounded. Doug Sartin may not own any of his namesake restaurants, but he sure seems to know everything that goes on in them.

I ordered some crabs and sat down at a table with Kim Lynch. She was a big good-looking blond. I tried hard to look her in the eyes at all times.

"Doug and I are still friends," said Kim, who once cleared tables at the Sartin's in Sabine Pass. But she made clear that being married to a Sartin was no picnic.

"It's an interesting family," she said. "I could write a book."

"Well, Doug calls himself the crazy one in the family," I said with a shrug.

"The crazy spoiled one," she replied. Their parents made things too easy for Doug and his sister Kelli, according to Kim. Doug never stops partying. "His best friend says that being with Doug is like being held captive," she said. "But he doesn't have to go back to the real world, and you do."

I asked Kim what Hurricane Rita did to business.

"After the storm, I quit offering all-you-can-eat," she told me. "What a difference that made!" At first, there just weren't enough crabs, she explained. The supply has come back now, but the all-you-can-eat policy has not. When Sartin's first started serving all-you-can-eat crabs at the original restaurant in the '70s, you could buy a dozen crabs for $3, she told me. Today they cost anywhere from $8 to $15 a dozen.