THIS LAND
A confession: I have lived in the coastal state of South Carolina most of my life but harbor a deep aversion to seafood.
As an Upstate dweller, I rarely ran across shellfish and other marine life. My parents constantly worked to make ends meet, so vacations to the beach were unheard-of. I saw the ocean for the first time at age eleven; I would not make my way back to the water’s edge again until I was seventeen, and then not for a decade later.
My seafood avoidance wasn’t about taste, though, but fear. As the daughter of a farmer and avid fisherman, I have no issue coming face-to-face with my intended dinner. The mantra of catch, clean, and cook might as well be tattooed on my forehead. But my family’s tall tales kept me from indulging in the delicacy the rest, which translates to “beautiful savory swimmer,” otherwise known as the Atlantic blue crab.
