We stroll unhurriedly along the length of the Wellington Pier till we reach The Crab Shack at the southern end of Shed 5. Hard to imagine but raftered shed is over a century old, no longer meant for maritime use but now a haven for seafood lovers.
Seafood lovers, that’s us.
Kaimoana or New Zealand seafood (in Maori, kai means “from” and moana means “sea”; hence “food from the sea”) is the main draw here, naturally. Whether it’s fish or shrimp, mussels or tuatua (clams), and big pots of crabs (of course) – they have it here.
Kiwi-style dining means patrons are encouraged to dig in with their hands. There are finger bowls and buckets of paper napkins thoughtfully placed at every table. Feels like home already; I imagine the chargrilled ikan bakar and tiny packets of nasi lemak at seaside restaurants back home.
The shack has a chilled out, unfussy ambience, the very epitome of beach rustic. Old wooden planks washed up by the waves (or so I assume) are nailed in place in lieu of wallpaper; framed, well-worn mariner’s ropes replace stale portraits; West Coast crab pots and ring crab traps have second lives as ceiling lamps hung low.
We begin with their signature clam chowder in a mason jar, creamy and well-seasoned with the briny taste of the sea. Also, their Shack Fritters: the flesh of clams and mussels are minced together, dipped in batter and Pecorino cheese, then fried and served with jalapeño crème fraîche. So addictive.
We can’t come to The Crab Shack and not have crabs, right? After consulting with our helpful server, we decide on a kilo of paddle crabs. Apparently the paddle crab numbers in New Zealand have risen dangerously due to the disappearance of predators such as the snapper and dogfish due to over-fishing.
We’d be helping to correct the natural balance by feasting on these delicious crustaceans. Consider us invasivores.
The paddle crabs are sautéed in a large pan – seasoned simply with butter, garlic, chilli and shallots – till they’re engulfed in flames. At this point, the house ritual takes over: the cooks holler “Fire in The Crab Shack!” and the servers retort, with equal fervour, “It’s getting hot in here!” We like this place: it’s hella fun.
What arrives at our table is a slightly battered enamel pot filled to the brim with steaming crab parts, slick with their own butter-spiked juices, garnished with nothing more than a sprinkle of parsley . A squeeze of lemon, and we’re ready to dig in. Whether with the supplied crab picks and crackers or with bare hands, the only sounds heard at our table (and every other table, in fact) are Snap! Suck! Slurp!
The fresh, succulent and sweet crab flesh is worth any amount of messiness. Everyone simply washes up at the basin afterwards, anyway. We wash it all down with locally-bottled, hops-infused Höpt Soda, a well-kept secret with interesting flavours such as elderberry and herbs, and salted lychee.
After paying our bill and as we walk out, we shout our thanks to the hard-working crew in the open kitchen. (In Wellington, do as Wellingtonians do, yes?)