The month of December is fully loaded for us — not only with the usual merrymaking of holiday cheer, but also with the celebrations of both ours (Arron and I) and my parents’ wedding anniversaries.
And this year, the festivities were particularly joyous because we were at last able to partake of them with one another, connected in person around one table that was lit up with delicious fare and longed for togetherness.
The joyful reunion took place in sunny Miami, where I grew up and where my family still lives — a place vastly different from Alaska, where instead of sandhill cranes soaring in pairs through dark evergreen trees, I saw gaggles of great white egrets pecking quietly on bright dewy lawns. Where the quiet giants that suddenly appear are manatees, not moose; and where a stubborn sunshine leaves pastel kisses of soft pinks and purples in the early evening sky. But more than the tepid turquoise waters and welcomed heat of the tropics, it was the closeness that really kept me warm, the chance to finally be with my kin, with only one true agenda — to love.
I had the chance to laugh with my 91-year old grandmother again, and meet her namesake, a brand new niece born at the height of the pandemic — both of them living symbols of life’s continuous cycles and the tenderness that weaves existence into being. And of course, I witnessed the moment when my parents truly got to know our son, no longer the newborn they saw last — now a walking, talking and fully sentient little toddler of a man who, despite his infancy, innately and viscerally seemed to dig right into the concept of kinship.
And speaking of kinship, being in Florida is always quite poignant for my husband Arron (founder/CEO of Wild Alaskan Company), whose fraternal grandparents actually met there in the 1930s while both on vacation. His grandfather had come back east from Alaska and his grandmother had traveled down from New Jersey — in short, Arron and I were not the first Florida-inspired union in the Kallenberg family.
Like with so many families, the act of jollification in ours typically happens through food, and on this particular visit, my father’s preferred preparation for fish hit me with a jolt of inspiration. So, we brought his favorite salt-roasting technique, which he picked up on a visit to Spain, to our spot prawns. For the curious, our simple recipe for salt roasted spot prawns is up on the Wild Alaskan blog now.
Buried then roasted under a snow-like blanket of piping hot salt, the shells become incredibly crispy, almost like chips. The spot prawns themselves stay tender and springy, their buttery meat perfectly seasoned by the salt that they draw in as they roast. Uncovering them is an experience unto itself, an opportunity to channel your inner child as you pull these treasures onto your plate.
And if you want to pull these treasures out of your next box, for a limited time we have Spot Prawns available as a member special. Please visit your Member Specials page to secure your share.
Live Wild,
Monica
Pictured above: a pile of salt-roasted prawns alongside the mound of briny flavor from which they just came — the result a perfect balance of buttery bites and savory sweetness.
