Sand in the Coffee, Vol. 92: royal reds, and the two minutes that decide everything

Royal Reds are not big shrimp. That’s the myth, and it’s the reason so many people order them once, cook them like every other shrimp they’ve ever met, and quietly decide they’re overrated.

They’re a different animal from a different place, they cook in about a third of the time, and if you treat them like a boil shrimp you will ruin the most expensive shrimp in the case. So let’s fix that before somebody’s beach-house dinner goes sideways.

What you’re actually buying

Royal Reds live deep. Not “out past the second sandbar” deep — a few hundred fathoms deep, well out past the edge of the continental shelf, which for the boats working out of here means a long, expensive run offshore and back. That’s why they cost more, and why they’re not always available. Nobody makes that trip for fun.

Down there the water is cold and salty, and it changes the shrimp. The meat is softer and sweeter than a white shrimp, with a texture and a flavor most people describe as somewhere between shrimp and lobster. They come out of the water already salted, essentially — which will matter a great deal by the time we get to the seasoning.

And they’re red. Raw, in the case, before anything has happened to them: red. Remember that.

The one rule

You cannot judge doneness by color.

Every shrimp instinct you have was built on watching gray shrimp turn pink. Royal Reds skip that step, so the visual cue you’ve relied on your entire life is simply not there, and people stand at the stove waiting for a change that already happened before they turned the burner on.

So you go by the clock. Boiling water, drop them in, two minutes. Three at the absolute outside for jumbo ones. If you’re standing there thinking “surely not yet,” it’s yet. Pull them, ice bath or cold water to stop the carryover, done.

Overcooked Royal Reds go mushy and cottony and taste like a disappointment you paid a premium for. Undercooking is nearly impossible. Err early, every single time.

Go easy on the seasoning

This is the other half of the mistake. Do not give them the full crab-boil treatment — the long soak in heavily spiced water with corn and potatoes and sausage. That soak is designed to push salt and spice into a mild shrimp. Royal Reds are not mild, and they arrived pre-salted by the ocean.

Light hand. Plain salted water or a very small amount of boil seasoning, two minutes, then melted butter and a lemon wedge on the side. That’s the whole recipe, and anybody who tells you otherwise is selling seasoning.

If you’d rather use a skillet: butter, garlic, medium heat, ninety seconds a side, off the burner while you still feel nervous about it.

How to eat them like you’ve done it before

Peel-and-eat is the standard service, and the shells come off easier than a white shrimp’s — thinner, more forgiving. Nobody needs a lesson there.

The head is the lesson. There’s a rich, buttery bit inside the head that is, for a lot of people down here, the actual point of the whole exercise. You squeeze the head into your fingers, or you go ahead and suck it straight off, and you don’t make eye contact with the table until you’re finished. That’s the move.

If that’s not for you, that’s fine, no judgment — but at least watch somebody at the next table do it once. You’ll see the moment they stop caring what the room thinks.

Extra napkins. Ask up front. You’ll need more than they bring you.

Buying them here

A few things worth knowing before you go looking:

• Call first. Royal Reds sell out, and they’re not landed every day. A quick phone call to a seafood market — on either side of the state line — will save you a drive. “Do you have Royal Reds today, and are they headed on or headed off?” is exactly what to ask.
• Frozen is not an insult. A lot of them are frozen at sea within minutes of coming aboard, and that product is often better than something that rode in a cooler for three days. Ask when they came in; the honest counters will tell you straight.
• Expect to pay more. Meaningfully more than local white shrimp, per pound, at the market — and on a restaurant menu they’ll usually be the priciest shrimp printed on it. That price is a fuel bill for a boat that went a long way out. It’s not a markup on your vacation.
• Headed on, if you can. If you’re cooking at home and the head doesn’t bother you, buy them heads-on. See the previous section.
• Two-thirds of a pound per person is a fair planning number for a main course with sides. They eat richer than white shrimp, and people slow down about halfway through in a way they don’t with a regular boil.

Most of the seafood counters and the older waterfront restaurants on the Key and over in Orange Beach carry them when they can get them. When somebody has them, the sign usually goes up out front, because they know exactly what it does to traffic.

The right night for it

September is a good month for this. The crowds have thinned, the wait at the good places has gone from ninety minutes to twenty, and the boats are still working. If you want to understand where your dinner came from, our fishing page will give you a sense of what’s actually being caught out there right now — Royal Reds are the deepest thing on that whole list by a wide margin.

Eat early, around 5:30, if you want a table without a strategy. Then go sit somewhere and watch it get dark over the water. That part’s free.

— Chris

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