Crab cakes Benedict is my fucking jam, baby

Crab cakes Benedict is my fucking jam, baby

Crab cakes Benedict at Huey's Southern Cafe in Savannah, Georgia.
Crab cakes Benedict at Huey’s Southern Cafe in Savannah, Georgia.

My F-150 has a bumper sticker on it that says “I brake for crab cakes Benedict.” 

OK. That’s a lie. But said imaginary bumper sticker would be a true reflection of my passion for crab cakes Benedict. The holiest of all the eggs benny. If crab cakes Benedict is on the menu, there’s a 99.9 percent chance that I’m going to order it. 

Eggs Benedict is one of America’s great culinary creations, served in various forms all around the country. There are many different origin stories behind it, most centered around a drunken Wall Street big wig named Benedict looking to eat off his hangover at a luxurious Manhattan restaurant. 

Regardless, you know the eggs benny drill: poached eggs (or what we long-time Bostonians call “dropped” eggs) over some sort of pork (bacon, Canadian bacon, sausage) and an English muffin, all of it doused in creamy yellow hollandaise sauce. 

The dish has taken on various forms over the years. None better, for my tastes, than crab cakes Benedict, where the crab cake replaces the pork. 

You can get crab cakes Benedict in many parts of the country, even here in Boston. But, let’s face it, the glorious dish tastes best in crab country. I’ve had crab cakes benny in crab-centric towns like Annapolis, Washington D.C. and Miami, and then most recently this week at Huey’s Southern Cafe, where New Orleans and Low Country cuisine melt together on the banks of the Savannah River in lovely Savannah, Georgia. 

Huey’s version comes with an extra layer of southern deliciousness: slivers of fried green tomatoes between the eggs and the crab cakes.

Yum!  

There was also a side of cheese grits and a bottle of Crystal hot sauce, a true taste of New Orleans you find at po’boy bars all over the Big Easy. 

My senses were so overwhelmed with joy that I passed out and woke up the next morning in a tub full of ice missing internal organs. 

We mostly associate crab and crab cakes with the Chesapeake Bay. Best crab cakes I’ve ever had were at the Middleton Tavern in the middle of downtown Annapolis. Almost all crab meat. Very little filler. Fucking amazing. 

But there are various crab cultures in different parts of the country. I’m no crustacean expert, but this is my understanding: 

You get blue crabs in Chesapeake Bay, stone crabs in Florida and fiddler crabs in the Low Country of South Carolina and Georgia – probably the kind of crab I ate at Huey’s in Savannah. 

Fiddler crabs are notable for their disproportionately sized claws. One claw is HUGE. The other is tiny.

Either way, crab is delicious, especially when packed into a meat pancake and paired with eggs, fried green tomatoes, English muffins and hollandaise sauce. 

Story of fiddler crabs in the historic Low Country town of Bluffton, South Carolina, between Hilton Head and Savannah.
Story of fiddler crabs in the historic Low Country town of Bluffton, South Carolina, between Hilton Head and Savannah.

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