How learning my mum’s crab chilli recipe opened up a family treasure chest

There was more to great granddad than even I had realised.

Source: Tammi Kwok

Every family has a lout. And I believe, one happens every couple of generations or so. And I’m not talking about the oddball, I mean someone destructive, whether they were born or made that way.

For my maternal grandmother, it was her father. Adopted as a second son to a well-to-do family, he squandered their wealth on gambling and drinking, and was a terrible husband to great-grandma. I was told that he would constantly have issues keeping consistent work, but forbade his wife or five daughters to work, furthering the family’s financial struggles.

This was the story I had been told all my life. How great grandma, the great beauty that she was, grew up wealthy but had her fortunes turned when she was made to marry him. How great granddad was a good-for-nothing who not only squandered the family’s finances but also great grandma’s potential. How he was a terrible husband and father.

Until one day a nugget of information slipped out when I was trying to pin down my mother’s chilli crab recipe.

“Ah, I miss my granddad’s crab cakes.”

I was distracted by weighing out the lemongrass and dispatching the live crab (I named him Jimmy) so it took a beat for it to sink in. Great granddad’s crab cakes? What are these mystical crab cakes and why have I never eaten them? I knew that it was always the women in my family that did the cooking… surely she meant great grandma?

Nope, she said what she said.

Turns out, this person that I always thought was just a broken and difficult human being was also a good cook. Not just good, brilliant. A man who could make pots of prawn noodle soups that would sell out in a matter of a couple of hours. A man who could make mee siam that would sell out so quickly that his family never got to eat any. A man who could just as easily turn his hand to cooking up wild boar meat as he could to selling fish and chips out the back of a van. The taste of his salted sun-dried fish (another thing he made to earn some cash) was something my grandmother never forgot until her dying day.

Here I was, thinking that I had forged my own way to work with food, but in fact, it seemed that I descended from generations of cooks, each with their own specialty. This man that I thought I had nothing in common with, whom I could never connect nor understand, had turned out to be such a vital part of my passion for food and eating.

Memories have been heavily diluted, and my mum and aunties only have vague memories of him throwing his crab cake recipe together from leftover crab, prawn, fish and potatoes from the fish and chip van. Unfortunately, while I don’t have this beloved crab cake recipe under my belt, I do pay heavy tribute to my mother's chilli crab recipe instead. A recipe that one day, like the crab cake, might spark some anecdotes and familial insights that I can pass on to my children and grandchildren. 

This is a recipe that was specially requested at family gatherings and birthdays - and is better than any chilli crab we got at restaurants (big call, I know), because Mum made it for us, tailored to our taste and it brought everyone to the table.

I’m glad I asked her about it when I did because I would hate to think that something so special would go the way of great-granddad’s crab cakes.

Love the story? Follow the author here: Instagram @teafortammi.

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Mum‘s chilli crab

• 1 kg fresh mud crab (or you can replace it with prawns if you prefer, cleaned and separated into quarters)
• Oil, for deep frying
• 125 g unsalted butter
• 200 g red Asian shallots, peeled
• 75 g ginger, peeled and sliced
• 2 long red chillies, trimmed
• 50 g garlic, crushed
• 15 g belachan (fermented shrimp paste)
• 10 g dried shrimp, soaked in hot water and drained
• 2 stalks lemongrass, roughly bashed with the back of a knife
• 1 cup tomato sauce
• ¾ cup chilli sauce (I use Maggi brand chilli sauce)
• 1 tsp cornstarch
• 2 eggs, beaten
• Soy sauce, to taste
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• Steamed or deep-fried mantou, to serve
• Coriander and spring onions, to garnish

1. In a wok, or a medium-sized pot that will fit the crab in snugly, add about 750ml vegetable oil, or until it comes 4cm up the side of the pot.
2. Add the butter, along with 2 tsp of salt, and place over medium heat till the butter is foaming.
3. Add your fresh crab (or prawns, if using) to the oil, and fry for about 8 minutes, until the shells are bright red, about 8 min.
4. Meanwhile, add the shallots, ginger, chillies, garlic, and dried shrimp into a blender. Blend into a paste, using a touch of water if your blender is having issues.
5. Remove the cooked crabs from the oil and drain on a paper towel, if needed.
6. Drain off the excess fat, leaving about 3 tablespoons of oil in the pot.
7. Add the belachan and fry over high heat, till aromatic.
8. Add the spice paste and lemongrass, and fry over high heat till it deepens in colour, and the mix is fragrant, about 5-10min.
9. Add ketchup and chilli sauce, and, stirring occasionally, heat till the sauce starts to bubble vigorously.
10. Mix the cornstarch with 1 tbsp water, and pour the slurry into the sauce to thicken.
11. Add in the beaten eggs and turn the heat off, stirring gently to create loose ribbons.
12. Add in the cooked crab, and mix thoroughly to combine. Taste the sauce, and if needed, add soy sauce, to season.