Mantis Shrimp

Let me tell you about the Mantis Shrimp, friend, and why it deserves your attention.

This is not a shrimp at all in the way you think — it is a crustacean of its own kind, Mediterranean, with meat so delicate that it is the whole point of buying one. The shell tells a different story: ridged, prickly, tough to get into, nothing soft about it. Crack it open and the meat inside is soft and sweet, almost sticky under your finger, giving way at the slightest touch.

Choose it by smell, always. Fresh Mantis Shrimp smells of the sea, clean and faintly sweet — no ammonia, no sourness. The shell should look wet and bright, not dull or dry at the edges. If it smells flat, put it back.

Some people say it is just a small, cheap shrimp, so you can cook it the same way, hard and fast. No! Its tender flesh needs a gentle hand. Treat it rough and you will overcook it before you know it, losing the very tenderness you bought it for. Cook it gently — in a light broth, or briefly in a sauce for pasta — and watch the flesh: the moment it turns opaque, it is done. Pull it off the heat right there and let it stay whole.