I pride myself on knowing the best purveyors of various delicacies throughout the northern San Francisco Bay Area; it’s a natural outgrowth of my combined love of eating fresh, straight-from the farm food, and my obsession with finding small, family-owned businesses deserving of recognition. But I’ve been to Bodega Bay many, many times and never discovered Spud Point Crab Company, for the simple reason that unlike the vast majority of Bodega Bay businesses, it’s not located right on Highway One but on a side street. So when my brother-in-law turned up at our weekend vacation house with a story of finding a crab shack where you selected your catch from among a pot of crabs so fresh they were still kicking — and pinching — I had to check it out.
Sure enough, Spud Point Crab Company is one of those places I want everyone to know about. But first, let me retrace my steps.
The selection includes a number of favorites made everyday, and often an experimental flavor or two. Everything baked at Wild Flour is made with their own sourdough starter. I’ll let their descriptions of some of my favorites speak for themselves:
• Goat cheese flatbread
• Egyptian bread; pear, fig, and ginger
• Organic apricot whipping cream scones
• Dragon bread; jalapeno, corn meal, garlic
• Sticky buns with walnuts, cinnamon, and currents
The special recipes can be an adventure in themselves. One of Saturday’s scones, called “mounds,” was a bear claw-like concoction of chocolate, coconut, and almond paste. They were so good we stopped by a second time on the way home to see if they’d made more. (They hadn’t, but they had espresso, one of my all-time faves, instead.)
Okay, back to the crab. So we’d picked up a cheese fougasse at Wild Flour, which we served as an appetizer. This isn’t just any fougasse; it’s potato, garlic, and rosemary stuffed with cheddar, jack and swiss cheeses. This was followed by crab cakes made from Spud Point crab and grilled pork loin seasoned with fresh rosemary we found growing in the garden. The result was a locavore feast that would have made Michael Pollan proud, over which we lingered toasting our family with red wine grown and bottled just 20 miles inland.