Holidays: The Ten Day Historical Tour, Day One: Gettysburg

I believe there is something in this place against dipping sauces. This afternoon, I took a late lunch after a long drive in (something stubborn in me wanted to wait until I got there to stop) at the Blue and the Grey. Now. This is a place I’ve been to several times before, and I had always, Always ordered the same thing: The crab dip. It is lovely. Just the right amount of Old Bay. But, today, I felt like doing something different, so I ordered a burger instead, with a side of fries. Sweet potato fries. Now. On my table there sat ketchup and hot sauce and such. So, obviously they know about dipping. But sadly, when my burger and fries appeared, there was nothing there with which to dip my fries. I looked at the waitress. She looked back at me (this went on for several moments). Finally, she asked me if there was something wrong. I replied something in the way of isn’t-there-any-sauce-for-these? To which I was answered with a confused stare followed by a what-would-you-use-to-dip-them? Well. I was about to answer her all the lovely ways in which to dip a sweet potato, beginning with a sweetened cream cheese and ending with something along the lines of a fresh pina colada, when I realized she wasn’t really asking. It was more of a rhetorical kind of thing (I never quite catch those). So, instead, I asked if they had a bit of honey, which apparently they do. For tea. Well, can I have some of that, I’d asked and she frowned some more, but in the end brought it. Now. I can’t be the first to have asked for a dip for these par-tic-ular variety of fires. Please tell me I’m not.

And then there was dinner. Now, I checked into my very lovely little Inn, the Dobbin House Inn, which also has a lovely little Tavern. It is just what a Tavern should be—stone walls smudged with smoke from long years spent just as it is—candles, real candles flickering their soft light into the dim room. A wooden bar top smoothed from centuries, not decades of use. Just lovely. And it is at this bar I sit, since I am traveling alone. The bartender, a friendly woman who thankfully is just chatty enough—helpful, but then knows when to go away—recommends the house drink—a stiff cocktail that has a strict limit on it’s consumption—only two. And after a sip, I could see why. Went down like Kool-Aide, but makes one a bit wobbly-in-the-walking.

For dinner, she recommended either the chicken or the crab. Now. For those of you familiar with my books, you know we are already accustomed to good chicken in and around the Farm, so I pass on that. And, seeing as I denied myself my crab for lunch, I went with it for dinner instead.

Soon a plate with two lovely crab cakes were placed in front of me, along with a baked potato. That was it. I looked at the bartender and she looked at me. This time I didn’t bother asking for a Sauce in which to dip. I had already gotten a feel for the culture of the town. This was a no dipping town. So, I began instead to eat my meal in silence. The crab cakes were good, even almost as good as mine (a little sauce in which to dip them might have improved that). They used lump crab meat and lots of it, and were careful not to mix it too thoroughly, which so many do. There was a tremendous amount of Old Bay used, so that may be my one complaint. Too much of a good thing becomes a bad thing.

Now, in full disclosure, I have eaten at this establishment before, and on those visits, they provided you with a basketful of homemade historical-ish breads. This time they did not, although the promise of such was still declared in the menu. And in the past the plates had been made of pewter, which made a delightful scrape-ish type sounds which greatly added to the historical feel to the experience. These are now gone as well. Too bad.

Once the meal was completed, I staggered up the stairs, having not even partaken of the two cocktail limit (lightweight that I am) and went to my room, dreaming of Sauces and such.

And now, here is my interpretation of the Dobbins Tavern Crab Cakes, although, I did take the liberty of reducing the Old Bay, and yes, adding a Sauce.

To begin, you need one small red pepper and one small yellow pepper, chopped fine. Add to these two tablespoons minced sweet onion. This gets placed in a sauté pan with two tablespoons butter and stirred and cooked over medium heat until soft. Once it is, half is removed from the pan and set aside in a medium-sized bowl. To what remains the juice of one lemon is added, but first it must be zested, adding that to the bowl with the peppers and onions. To the pan (that now has half the peppers and onions and lemon juice) a quarter cup sugar is added and returned to the heat and stirred until it becomes a thick syrup.

The heat is turned off and the pan set aside. Now, to the bowl. A half teaspoon Old Bay Seasoning, is added along with a dash of salt and pepper both red and black, an egg, and three quarters cup plain crushed croutons (p44), but leave out garlic and cheese). It is stirred once or twice.

The can of lump crab meat (one pound) is opened and its contents placed into the bowl. It’s stirred very carefully. Only until just mixed. We want to see those lumps! That’s what you paid all that money for! (You can find this behind the seafood counter of your grocery store. This kind is always kept refrigerated.) The bowl is covered with plastic wrap and let sit in the fridge for one hour while all those flavors come together.

Now, back to that pan. A third cup mayonnaise is added and stirred in well. It is placed in a small serving dish and set in the fridge as well. This is your sauce.

When the time comes to cook the cakes, they are taken from the fridge and carefully formed into balls.  A cast iron skillet coated with a good amount of butter is set on the stove and brought to heat over a medium flame. The crab cakes are gently placed into the pan, giving yourself plenty of room to flip them.

They’re checked every half minute or so, checking for that golden-brown bottom. Once it’s there, the cakes are flipped, again, gently. That side is left to get a bit golden, too. And then you’re done. They are served immediately with a smear of Sauce alongside.