Garlic Butter Spot Prawns

Every May, something remarkable happens in the cold waters of the Pacific Northwest. Spot prawns rise from the deep, and for a few precious weeks, the docks come alive with fishermen selling their catch straight off the boats. These aren't shrimp. Don't call them shrimp. They're sweet, delicate creatures with a texture closer to lobster than anything you've found frozen at the supermarket.

The Coast Salish peoples harvested these waters for thousands of years before European settlers arrived. When Scandinavian and Asian immigrants made their homes along these shores, they brought their own traditions of honoring seafood with simplicity. Garlic butter represents that philosophy perfectly. You don't mask something this good. You celebrate it.

I've cooked spot prawns in kitchens from Seattle to Vancouver, and the approach never changes: screaming hot pan, good butter, fresh garlic, and the courage to leave them alone. Overcooking is the only sin. Two minutes per side transforms them from translucent to opaque. The heads contain the most extraordinary orange fat, the tomalley, which enriches every bite if you're brave enough to suck them clean. This is primal eating. Fingers required. Napkins essential.

Buy them live if you can find them. Their enzymes begin breaking down the flesh within hours of death, turning firm meat mushy. A live spot prawn will flick its tail when you pick it up. That's your freshness test. That's your guarantee of something extraordinary.