Lost Coast Crab Boil 2026
A week before our Lost Coast Crab Boil, we almost canceled it...
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Crab season had only just opened, ticket sales were moving slowly, and we were staring down our first-ever crab boil—built entirely around a fishery that never guarantees anything. Add winter weather, tight regulations, and the reality of cooking for nearly 60 people all at once, and it would have been easy to call it off.
But sometimes the best things we do aren’t the safest ones. Sometimes they’re the ones that sound fun, feel meaningful, and remind us why we do this work in the first place.
Waiting on the Season
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Crab season on the Lost Coast is always a waiting game. It only opens when environmental testing, pricing agreements, and weather conditions all line up—and even then, there’s no certainty it will last. We put this dinner on the calendar back in December, knowing it was a gamble, but trusting that if the season opened, we’d find a way to make it work.
Sourcing local crab isn’t as simple as picking up the phone. There are permits, compliance requirements, and coordination behind the scenes that exist to protect both the fishery and the people who depend on it. It’s complicated, and it should be. Sustainability isn’t just about intention—it’s about following the rules that make local food systems possible long-term.
This dinner wouldn’t have happened without collaboration. We’re deeply grateful to Sam Stebnicki, who holds a receiver’s permit, and Luke Sack, who holds a crab permit and was out there working during the heart of the season. This time of year is demanding for local fishermen, and being able to support that work—right here, at the table—matters to us.
A First for Us
We’d never done a crab boil before.
This wasn’t a plated, paced dinner. It was Louisiana-style: spicy, buttery, communal, and served all at once. Corn on the cob, red potatoes, whole garlic, onions, andouille sausage, whole crab—seasoned with yep, Old bay, smoked paprika, cayenne, toasted coriander and mustard seed, black pepper, thyme, and a lot of butter. Bold flavors, no pretension.
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A couple weeks out, the question became very real: how do you cook all of this—hot, consistently, and on time—for an entire room? The answer involved two massive 80-quart boil pots, a lot of test batches, and figuring out how to cook vegetables and crab separately while building one cohesive broth.
Ticket sales stayed slow longer than we expected. A week before the event, we were sitting at about 35 tickets and weighing whether to cancel. What tipped us forward was simple: the event sounded fun, people who had already bought tickets asked us not to cancel, and sometimes doing something because it feels right is reason enough.
The Night Itself
Guests arrived to long communal tables lined with butcher paper, place settings ready, and a small pour of Dave’s Pilsner waiting—one of our most-loved beers. A shrimp cocktail greeted everyone as a simple opener, giving people time to settle in and start talking. Strangers became tablemates quickly, which is one of the quiet joys of these dinners.
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Then the buckets came out.
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When the crab boil hit the tables—dumped right down the center—it was game on. It was messy. It was spicy. Butter everywhere. At first, there was a moment of hesitation: What do I do with this? And then people leaned in. Hands got dirty. Laughter got louder. The tables became exactly what we hoped they would be—less about presentation, more about shared experience.
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We celebrated birthdays, including Brian Hartman’s, and had a room full of familiar faces alongside people visiting the Lost Coast for the first time. Team members sat down to eat alongside guests. Friends who’ve known each other for decades shared tables with new neighbors.
All of it was underscored by the music. Having Ray Bevitori and Michael Curran in the room mattered more than we even realized it would. They’ve been playing together for decades, and that history shows—you feel it immediately. Over and over throughout the night, people came up to us saying how glad they were that Ray and Michael were there, how much it changed the feel of the evening. Their music didn’t compete with the dinner; it held it. It gave the room a rhythm and warmth that made everything feel connected.
Serving nearly 60 people all at once is a challenge, especially with a format like this. What made it work was our team. These dinners succeed because they’re willing to adapt, communicate, and trust each other. Every event is a little different, and a lot of what happens unfolds in real time. That flexibility is something we’re incredibly grateful for.
As the night wound down, we shifted the energy again—this time toward something cool, sweet, and unhurried. After all the spice and butter and hands-on eating, a sundae bar gave people a reason to linger, laugh, and reset. It wasn’t fancy or precious, just thoughtful—one more way to bring the room back together before the night came to a close. Conversations stretched. Tables stayed full. No one seemed in a rush to leave.
Why We Keep Doing This
These community dinners aren’t really about food. They’re about showing what’s possible when local sourcing, teamwork, and trust come together. They support working fishermen. They give our team space to grow. They bring locals and visitors to the same table. And yes, they help keep the business going during a hard season for restaurants—but they also feed something less tangible and just as important.
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This night reminded us that community isn’t built through perfection. It’s built through effort, collaboration, and a willingness to try something new together.
What’s Next: Salt Water & Citrus
Our next community dinner, Salt Water & Citrus, takes place on Friday, February 27. This five-course meal will focus on bright, coastal flavors and seasonal ingredients, with the same commitment to local sourcing that made the crab boil possible. We’ll once again be working with Luke Sack for our Dungeness Crab, Diana Totten for local rock crab and mussels, Sam Stebnicki for fresh rockfish, and last but not least Humboldt bay local oysters!
Tickets are already moving, and we’d love to have you join us.
Click Here For Salt Water & Citrus Info!
Because when we sit down together like this—around food that tells a story—we’re reminded that community isn’t just something you talk about. It’s something you build, one table at a time.
📸 Credit: Anna Rogers 🫶