The tiny brown shrimp is an age-old East Anglian delicacy that has fallen out of fashion. Mike Warner explains why it’s time to give these native prawns another chance
Saturday teatimes were particularly memorable. in a ritual observed throughout the summer months, i’d accompany my father to a ramshackle kiosk on the beach, where a toothless old boy ran a shellfish stall, supplying a ready and delicious assortment of whelks, crab, lobster, cockles and, most importantly, brown shrimps (Crangon crangon), caught locally by inshore vessels and cooked to their fragrant salt-and-peppercomplexion within minutes of landing. needless to say, i adored them. not just the exquisite hit of sweet and saline, but the whole process of their procurement. The visit, the chatter at the kiosk, the sight of a mound of delicious sea gems heaped upon the slab, with an old cracked pint beer mug to ladle them into the brown-paper bags. These were deftly twisted up, with a flick of the wrists.
Back home, i was always tasked with the preparation, whether cracking crab and lobster claws or, on this occasion, peeling the sweet little shrimp meats from their casings, a job that can seem onerous, but which, in a cathartic way, still gives me pleasure.
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