A Conscious Feast by Nicole Aloni

Dungeness Crab

I just pulled out my Thai Banana Crab Cake recipe for a party I’m planning next week and shuddered. Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of my all-time favorite recipes. But, the last time I prepared it…oh boy.   Have you ever completely embarrassed yourself with a dish you served? Well I have, and it was with my preparation of this delicious recipe last 4th of July.

As I recalled that uncomfortable meal, it occurred to me that it might be a mitzvah to bare my failings in public, to let my friends and readers in on a comforting, little secret— nobody turns out great food every time. Not even someone who makes their living as a food writer and teacher. I’m not just going to lower the bar here, I’m throwing it in the fish sauce.

This year, one of my best friends agreed to provide her Italianate garden for our group 4th of July celebration. Everyone would bring something that was traditional for them—potato salad, guacamole, cherry pie, bread and butter pickles—a happy, silly hodgepodge of our Mom’s recipes.

I decided to contribute my exotic Thai version of the traditional crab cakes my mom made for every party. I created the recipe for my second book, Cooking for Company, and I’ve presented it at cooking classes around the country to raves. So I was pretty sure my friends would love it.

My summer was a hectic round of business trips that had left my refrigerator and pantry a little forlorn. However, there was a can of pasteurized crab with a use by date that was still good. So I decided to avoid a trip to the fish market and give it a try. What the heck? (BTW, the introduction to this recipe in my book states, Because these crab cakes are practically all crab, they are only worth making if you use fresh lump meat from the blue or Dungeness crab—the quality really shows.)

I opened the can and took a taste. It was kind of watery, pretty darn salty, and the little bits of crab tasted flabby. On the other hand, it saved me a trip out in the holiday crowds. Passable, I decided.

The next addition was a couple of tablespoons of Vietnamese Nuoc Pham (stinky, potent fish sauce). I didn’t recognize the label on the bottle, so I tasted a drop and immediately realized it was much saltier than the Three Crabs brand I always use. But it was the only one in the house (who bought this?) and I needed to get on the road. So, I waffled and settled for adding less than the recipe called for.

As I began to mince and chop all the fresh herbs and spices, I felt encouraged. My denial about the questionable ingredients got more robust. Yum, smell the ginger. Ahhh, what fresh cilantro (from my garden). Blah, blah, blah. I formed the crab cakes, crossed my fingers, and packed them up to cook off at the party.

The Bad News: They were mushy, salty blecch that everyone had to pretend to like. I have now received the final, humiliating reminder I will ever need from my inner-Julia that you can’t make good food out of funky ingredients.

The Good News: Here is the wonderful, pristine recipe that needs only great ingredients to make you look like a whiz.

photo: Manny Rodriguez