Sanaga-what?

My boyfriend Matt and I went out to Shoga Sushi in North Hollywood last night and ate some tiny little fried crabs as part of our meal. I spotted them in a clear kitchen container on the sushi counter and pointed them out to Matt--maybe about 30 or so tiny little crabs wiggling around in a box. Behind the box of squirmy crabs sat a bright purple octopus, fresh and plump. We ordered 4 rolls, including a Dynamite lobster roll and an Ichiban roll, which was a California roll with salmon and unagi on top--quite delicious. The fish all tasted fresh and every roll was flavorful.

Matt asked the guy sitting next to us at the sushi bar if he'd tried the crabs. He said yes, and that they were good. We were feeling adventurous/hungry, so we ordered the crabs. We thought they'd come before our rolls, but they didn't get to us until we'd finished everything else. The service here was quite slow, the restaurant quite small.

When they arrived, Matt and I were a bit surprised. They were identical to the live ones, except motionless and a little more red. We looked at each other. We looked back at the crabs, hesitant. "How do you eat them?" Matt asked our neighbor. Our neighbor, a friendly man enjoying his sushi alone, had eaten all manner of sushi since we'd arrived at the bar, including some of the bright purple octopus, which was still boldly displayed. He explained that you just put the whole thing in your mouth, body, legs and all.

These tiny little crabs, called Sanagawi, are freshwater river crabs, about double the size of a quarter, and a Japanese favorite. Apparently they're a little hard to find here, which makes sense since I've never seen them before. Some people liken them to thick, sea-infused potato chips.

I stared down at the plate. Legs. Claws. Eyes. Crabby tails. I felt a bit squeamish, but I wasn't ready to back down. Matt ate one, then another.

I watched him crunch the shell and chew. He said it tasted like popcorn. I wanted to try it, but I had to get over the legs & eyes-the wholeness of the little cooked creature. So I finally picked one up and gingerly put it in my mouth. And started chewing. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. I haven't finished chewing when I decide I really don't enjoy it. The shell is sharp and scrapes my throat when I swallow. "It's like eating seashells," I say, and follow up my last swallow stating "I'll never eat that again."

Matt eats a couple more and tries to get me to eat another. I protest until he finally takes the last one.

photo by Circa71.