Easy Cooking: Crab Cakes

One of the most expensive seafood dishes in restaurants is crab cakes. In appetizer or main-course size, you're lucky to find two crab cakes for under $10. They can easily be much higher and yet they are so simple to make at home. The recipe that follows is the one I've been using for years.

Lump crabmeat is expensive, but a cup and a half can make many crab cakes. Sweet Dungeness crab is what I like to use, but any kind will work. Best place I've found crabmeat is Phil's Fish Market in Moss Landing, Calif. Otherwise, look for it at your favorite fish counter. Always smell it before buying. If it's in a vacuum-packed container, ask the person behind the fish counter to open it for you and let you smell. No aroma at all is the best.

For the breadcrumbs, I use Panko, also referred to as Japanese breadcrumbs. However, any unseasoned breadcrumbs will do. I recommend using only real mayonnaise. Because the amount of fat and eggs is different in any jars except the real stuff, the crab cakes could fall apart as they're handled and the flavor won't be as wonderful as it can be.

1 1/2 cups dried breadcrumbs

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

1 1/2 pounds lump crabmeat, picked over for cartilage

1 bunch cilantro (leaves only), finely chopped

4 green onions, finely chopped (green tops too)

1/2 red bell pepper, seeded and finely diced

1 cup mayonnaise

Salt and pepper

Gently mix together all ingredients. Form the crabmeat mixture into patties, much the same size as hamburger patties. Heat your favorite oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat until hot, but not smoking. Cook the crab cakes on each side until they're browned. Turn them with a spatula and be careful that they don't fall apart. They will be very delicate. Drain crab cakes on a plate lined with a paper towel. Serve them immediately.

Makes about 15 crab cakes.

Note: The same recipe can be used to make salmon cakes, substituting canned wild salmon for the crabmeat. Reader John commented that he cooks up fresh salmon for his patties. Great suggestion, John.

The Tower of Babel

Texas newspapers report that Dallas police officers have written about 40 tickets to people for not speaking English. Presumably, these people were pulled over on the road. They were driving. Once the police chief learned about this, he dismissed all pending citations and reimbursed anyone who paid a fine.

"I was stunned that this would happen," the police chief said at a news conference.

There is no law requiring Dallas residents to speak English, but how do police officers perform their work (which often involves communicating with the public) if they can't be understood or can't themselves understand? When a police officer asks you a question (in the line of duty), you'd better answer him. It's essential that he be answered. It's impossible to expect our police -- government employees who keep law and order in our behalf -- to be able to communicate in any language other than English, our national tongue. The fact that thousands of police officers do indeed speak other languages and routinely use foreign languages for the benefit of citizenry and non-citizenry alike is only a bonus, a favor. Let's keep state business in English, or crucial decisions and split-second communication will degenerate into a Tower of Babel.


Ma'am, do you know why I pulled you over?
- ¿Dónde estoy?

Sir, you were driving 10 miles over the speed limit in a school zone.
- Yo vivo con mi madre.

Miss, would you mind showing me your registration and driver's license?
- Toi se quay lai ngay.

I'm a police officer. Please keep your hands on the steering wheel, where I can see them.
- Lotfan yaddasht konid.

Ma'am, I notice your right tail light is out. You need to get that fixed.
- Je m'en fiche. Au revoir.

Pedophile Polanski Doesn't Deserve Compassion

Don't know what took me so long to hear about Whoopi Goldberg saying that Roman Polanski didn't "rape-rape" the 13-year-old girl many years ago. But now I've heard and I must say that Goldberg, as well as actresses Melissa Gilbert and Debra Winger, who agree with her, go against what's best for young girls, in effect showing disrespect for children.

Of course, I don't know why any of the women said what they did. But it's my guess that both of them like to think that guys like Polanski just make mistakes when they rape young girls. Maybe they like his movies. Frankly, I don't care what their reasons were. They're just plain wrong in condoning the actions of Polanski. He managed to get the charge of rape dismissed, but he admits to drugging and sodomizing the girl. Isn't that enough?

Wonder what each woman would be saying if the girl had been her daughter. She's someone's daughter, you know. Beyond that, anyone under the age of consent is innocent. No matter if a girl wears tight, short skirts and says yes, she cannot consent to sex of any kind. She isn't old enough to know what's best for herself. And in Polanski's case, I believe her and not him. She said he repeatedly raped her and his admitted sodomy shows a real sickness on his part beyond the violent action of rape. Any man who chooses to rape or sodomize someone deserves the strongest penalty possible because he has changed a life forever by his violence.

I get really disgusted when I hear people blame innocent children for actions taken against them. The recently discovered kidnap victim Jaycee Dugard is another example. I've read where some think she could have left, she could have done this or that during the 18 years she was kept captive. She is the victim, an innocent girl when she was kidnapped. Use your energy to try to get laws changed to put away the likes of Dugard's kidnapper and Roman Polanski. America's girls deserve nothing less.

Eyes on the Peace Prize

Surely one of those Chinese dissidents, who were also nominated, would have been more deserving than the political leader of the United States?

I don't know what they give the Nobel Peace Prize for, but why give a $1.4 million prize to a sitting president? Isn't that person, by definition, feted enough as it is?

It all sounds like Employee of the Month stuff. We've all worked for companies that rewarded the executive team more than the rank & file, and we've all rolled our eyes at it. A president who is attempting to negotiate treaties -- peace, trade, etc. -- with other countries is, after all, just a politician doing what he is already being paid to do.

Give the Peace Prize to people who are genuinely putting their careers and even their lives on the line, I say -- not to bureaucrats who concentrate on nothing so much as their own re-election.

NOW Slow To Condemn Letterman's Actions

Why did it take NOW, the organization that claims to be for women, almost a week to say anything about David Letterman's actions toward women? NOW should have come out blasting him the next day.

It seems the late-night host had been having affairs with subordinates for years -- all women, I assume. He was their boss, deciding if they would stay in their jobs and whether they received raises and bonuses. Which women do you think were promoted? How many talented women left because they didn't want such a man pawing all over them? How many were fired?

Of all things NOW has espoused over the years, have you ever heard them talking about the harm such affairs do in the workplace? Or how the greatest percentage of affairs must surely be a male boss and a female subordinate, with the female's job almost always on the line? Wouldn't you think NOW might be concerned about such entanglements? Never can it be a good idea for a boss and a person who reports to him to be involved in an office romance. I've written about this before on my blog.

NOW should be demanding that someone other than CBS investigate Letterman's actions. Is there any labor union at CBS or Letterman's company, Worldwide Pants? If so, where is it in this? Would it not be a good idea for NOW to work with the union in this matter?

It was difficult to watch Letterman confessing on his show last week, hearing the audience cheer and clap when he said he had sex with his staff over the years. Yes, the audience was there to expect jokes. But couldn't they have discerned the difference between a creepy, old guy talking about getting it on with women who worked for him and a tawdry joke? It seems that NOW thought it was all a joke too.

Run-Up To Firing Gardener Worse Than Act Itself

I don't know how they do it. I'm referring to people who have to fire others, whether they're employees or employed for various positions. If firing people were part of my job description, I'd rather be doing almost anything else to earn a living.

Last week I fired the man who ran the gardening service we hired four years ago. He's a nice man, as is his employee who actually mows and trims our yard. But he rarely came around to check on what needed to be done, and his guy would mow dirt if that's what was there instead of a green lawn.

Still, it was a tough few weeks leading up to the firing. I would lie in bed at night, thinking about what I would say, what he might say, how I would respond, on and on. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I thought I should tell him why. Then I decided what the heck. Just fire him and get on with life. That's what I did.

A part of me hoped he wouldn't answer when I called. Then I could say my few words to the voice mail and that would be that. But he answered. Quickly, I told him it would work out better for us if we switched to someone else. I thanked him for his service and wished him well. I didn't tell him that he left our yard looking like something I might have hacked at with a machete. I didn't tell him that he must have saved large amounts of money by not spending it on fertilizers and insecticides. I didn't tell him that we had to regularly spray large patches of weeds because he didn't.

There are those who would say that I should have told him what he did wrong so he doesn't repeat it with other customers. He knew what he was doing. I would list what needed to be done -- all ordinary jobs for a gardening service -- and I'd call him. Eventually, he would come do some of them, telling me later that he might have overlooked some things on my lists, citing reasons that rarely made sense. Maybe it's a game he plays, sort of like seeing how long it takes before a customer has had enough, doing what's expected at just the last moment so he won't be fired. This time he waited too long and pushed me too far.

Anyway, ever since I fired him I've been getting great sleep. No more lying there thinking about the conversations that would never be. The new gardener starts today. I have my fingers crossed.

Lunch at Aunt Hattie's, A Story Just Beginning

Flannery O'Connor is one of my favorite writers. When I decided to make an attempt at writing fiction, I let her style guide me. Not to say, of course, that my first fiction story at all resembles her wonderful prose. Rather, I tried to create colorful characters O'Connor might have wanted to feature in one of her books or tiny tales.

When I say I wrote a first fiction short story, actually it's the start of a fiction short story. I leave it to you to continue the story. Now is your chance to take the characters I've created and lead them in the direction you want.

Here is my story start. Please do give us your words to finish or continue this story. Have fun with it.

Lunch at Aunt Hattie's

Dressed in her Sunday best navy blue suit with white buttons, Janey Marie Newbrough lies in repose in the parlor of Aunt Hattie's funeral home. Her viewing isn't for another three hours, enough time for Aunt Hattie to make soup for lunch.

Aunt Hattie's white, traditional, two-story, clapboard home, on the corner of Benton and Carlisle streets in the Ozark mountain town of Calhoun, is not only her home but also the town's single remaining funeral home. Aunt Hattie, known by that name everywhere in town, stirs the vegetable soup in her cast iron pot, which is filled almost to overflowing. She uses only the freshest vegetables picked from her garden in the back, bordering the now-empty chicken coop. It's early autumn and the vegetable choices are limited, but she finds enough for the soup. And amazingly there are a few red tomatoes for sandwiches to round out the lunch menu, along with sweet iced tea and buttermilk pie.

"Doing OK there, Janey Marie," she asks, absent-mindedly turning toward the casket in the living room.

Running a funeral home full-time takes all the energy Aunt Hattie can muster. She isn't young anymore, 82 on her birthday last month. Her arthritis acts up daily, and her once-erect posture now more closely resembles someone looking at the new pair of shoes she just put on. The kids are grown and lead their own lives far away from the funeral home. Taking care of Calhoun's dearly departed grows more tiresome each day. Her husband Jess died years ago and she misses him greatly, not only for the work he did in their business, but also for the companionship and the caring he so generously displayed.

Today, Aunt Hattie wants everything to be first rate for her company. Never mind that Janey Marie's viewing will occur shortly and townspeople will be streaming through to pay their respects to a woman who was not only known to so many through community connections, she also taught most of them in the small schoolhouse just blocks away. No need for Aunt Hattie to be involved in the viewing other than to provide the location for it. That gives her the freedom to keep her mind on lunch.

Louise Kathlyn and Lynnie Renee, Aunt Hattie's cousins two times removed, soon will arrive from downstate. She wants to make them as comfortable as possible, knowing that Lynnie isn't the most relaxed person around the dead, especially when one is lying only a few feet away from the kitchen table.

Further, it doesn't help the atmosphere when Ellie Mahoney, clearly the oldest resident of Calhoun, is raking the leaves out back. Shrunken and stooped, she is clothed in a black ankle-length skirt and long-sleeved shirt, with her long braids peeking out beneath a tall bonnet. She looks more like someone from the end of the 19th century and perhaps more likely to be in a box in the parlor than moving about outside. Janey Marie in the parlor and Ellie out back do not exactly contribute to the surroundings Aunt Hattie had in mind for her family, who only visits every 10 years or so.

Lynnie walked in the front door. Without missing a beat, she blurted out, "How nice. A stiff in the parlor and a crone from the Taft era out back will really enhance our enjoyment of lunch, Hattie dear."