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Shrimp is king of the shellfish
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shrimp
Boiled shrimp in cocktail sauce is a popular way to serve the king of shellfish. - photo by Stock photo

One of my first jobs was cleaning tables and washing dishes part-time for a seafood restaurant in Sneads Ferry, N.C. The Riverview Café didn’t pay much, but they offered an always-hungry teenager the best bennies package in the world — all the seafood I could eat.
During the summer of 1972, I ate enough fresh fish, shrimp, deviled crab, oysters, scallops and clams to feed the 2nd Marine Division, which was entrenched directly across the New River at Camp Lejeune.
Down the bank from the Riverview was one of many wholesale seafood distributors. Everett Seafood had a fleet of shrimp boats docked around it, which came and went during shrimp season, each delivering their precious cargo then heading back out to get some more. Under a tin-roof shelter on the docks, fishermen’s wives and children lined the sides of long tables onto which shrimp were piled then “headed,” or more precisely, beheaded.
Headed shrimp added to the price for the customer, but it added to the seasonal income of the fishermen. I did my part to support local fishermen by consuming all the shrimp I could get. I continue to support American fishermen by not buying or eating imported shrimp from unsanitary shrimp farms in foreign countries. If it’s not wild shrimp, I’m not interested.
In the Tarheel State, shrimp are usually fried. After working several hours at the restaurant, the aroma of fried shrimp permeated my clothes and my long, 1970s-style hair (and Elvis sideburns). It was a wonderful smell that brings back memories for me every time I get a whiff during visits to Darien.
Carolina fried shrimp are served Calabash-style, which is named for the fishing village of Calabash, located on the north side of the of the North and South Carolina border. Their shrimp usually are smaller than Georgia’s white shrimp. Some recipes claim Calabash shrimp are coated with cornmeal only, no flour. My experience taught me a little flour is indeed added to the cornmeal. Here in Georgia, most restaurants add a little cornmeal to mostly flour, which makes for less breading and lots more shrimp flavor.
I ate the shrimp at the Riverview Café by the pound, along with sea bass or flounder and deviled crab — all for free. No, it wasn’t from somebody’s plate. I didn’t eat scraps. It essentially was leftover seafood after the rush-hour crowds began to thin. I’d also eat fries and Carolina cole slaw, but mostly, it was just seafood, with an emphasis on shrimp.
It wasn’t fresh-out-the-fryer seafood but what otherwise would have been thrown out every few hours when business tapered off. I saved them the trouble and the waste. Grandmama had taught me, “Waste not, want not,” and I hated to see shrimp go to waste.
By summer’s end, I decided shrimp is the king of the shellfish. By the time I left that job for football practice and the start of my senior year in high school, I was tired of fried oysters, scallops and clams. I still eat roasted oysters and love New England-style clam chowder. I love lobster, too, but can’t say I’ve had a lot of it because of its high cost and not being common to Southern waters. I suspect most of the lobster I’ve had was not fresh. Ditto for crawfish.
When I was kid, I caught my own blue crabs using a long string tied to a chicken neck. Mama would boil the crabs I brought home in a large pot then separate the good meat from the parts she said “you ain’t supposed to eat.” Her homemade deviled crab was great but not as good as her fried shrimp.
Over the years, I learned to live without oysters and clams — if I had to. I could even live without crab if you made me. When I discovered crab chowder and especially she-crab soup, it became a lot harder.
I knew I needed to eat fish because it was and still is good for me. I couldn’t live without shrimp — period. It’s too good to give up. My seafood orders have gone from a “captain’s” platter with everything on it to a three-seafood platter to a two-seafood dinner. One of those seafood items has to be shrimp.
I’m a long way now from Sneads Ferry and the Riverview Café, but I still dream about the seafood there. My two favorite local restaurants for shrimp are both found in Darien. I don’t have to name them. As you’re driving through Darien on U.S. 17, just roll down your window. The aroma of frying shrimp will draw you to them.

Email Murray at rmurray@coastalcourier.com.

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Tomatoes are terrific summertime treats
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tomato
Tomatoes are even good eaten raw, right after picking and a wash. - photo by Stock photo

Every day, twice a day I check my garden to see if I have any “maters” ripe and ready for picking. In less sophisticated parts of the country, this veggie-fruit is called a tomato, but I live in Georgia, so I call them maters.
I don’t even want to think about what Italian or Mexican cuisine would be like without maters, so I’ll just focus on how delicious they are fresh off the vine. I love a fresh sliced, homegrown mater with some fresh sliced, homegrown cukes.
That’s what folks in North Carolina call cucumbers. I lived there long enough to pick up some Tarheel lingo. Cukes are not to be confused with kooks, which can be contagious during political seasons.
Mater and cuke slices deserve a sprinkling of sea salt and cracked black pepper before eating by themselves or as a side dish with any Southern meal. They add character to everything. I especially like mine with fried chicken or pork barbecue.
Sometimes I’ll eat a mater, cuke and Vidalia onion salad with just a drizzle of ranch dressing. Salt and pepper too, of course. I first discovered this salad at K&W Cafeteria, a family restaurant chain based in Greensboro, North Carolina. They left out the Vidalias, though. I first found Vidalias included with maters and cukes on a salad bar in Georgia.
Fresh mater slices are pretty much mandatory on most sandwiches. A summer picnic with grilled hamburgers wouldn’t be the same without a large slice of beefeater mater. In fact, some of us enjoy a plain mater sandwich. Just add a little mayo, salt and pepper.
When I ate mater sandwiches as a kid, I figured we didn’t have any burgers, ham or bologna to put on our sandwiches. I quickly learned to love them and didn’t care if I had anything else to go with the mater slices.
Bacon? Well, that’s different. Bacon and maters were made for each other (with mayo, salt and pepper). You really don’t need lettuce, which has no nutritional value anyway. If you want a healthy BLT (if that’s possible), use spinach leaves in place of lettuce. If you’re really hungry, add a -pound grilled Angus beef patty with cheddar cheese (then throw away any notion of eating healthy). Rest assured a homegrown mater will blend its sweet-acidic flavors with these add-ons.
There are a variety of maters for the backyard gardener. This year I planted heirlooms and Burpee’s Big Boy hybrids as well as some cherry and grape maters. I also planted a yellow variety called Lemon Boy, which have a different but wonderful flavor. According to Prevention.com, red maters are slightly better for you than the yellow ones, mostly due to the extra Vitamin A and C. I like the yellow ones anyway.
I can’t tell the difference between cherry and grape maters, except that one tends to be a bit oblong. I prefer them to plum maters in a salad because plum maters are too big to eat whole. I’m not the only person to ever bite down on a plum mater, sending mater guts streaming across the table. I like roma maters though, which are really plum maters, only bigger. You have to slice them to eat them, which can save you an embarrassing moment.
In ancient times, folks thought maters were poisonous, maybe because the leaves of some varieties are poisonous. According to several online sources, maters originated in Central and South America and were taken into western North America and Europe by Spanish explorers. English explorers who first settled North Carolina’s coast brought with them a fear of maters that was prompted by the poison myth.
According to North Carolina’s barbecue history buff Bob Garner, drinks made with mater juice were consumed from a common drinking vessel at the time, the pewter mug. In those days, pewter mugs contained lead. The acid from the mater juice tended to leach lead from the mugs, which caused revelers to act like kooks (not cukes). This led folks to believe maters were poisonous. It was so strongly believed that eastern North Carolina barbecue sauce developed without maters, just a peppery vinegar.
I do like my maters, but I’m sort of glad they left them out of the eastern North Carolina barbecue sauce I also love. When I make summer visits to Wilbur’s BBQ in Goldsboro, I make sure I get a plate of homegrown, local maters to go with their delicious pork barbecue. The maters add character to their already-perfect barbecue.

Email Murray at rmurray@coastalcourier.com.

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