The wheel, the camera, the Internet…the crabstick. Not even the legal restrictions in some countries that force them to be marketed as the more generic sounding ‘Seafood stick’ can dampen our affection for this genius invention. But how do they get from the ocean floor to the convenient and succulent wand that graces your hand? Well, find out in AKTIFMAG’s ‘The journey of a crab stick'…
It’s an early start as a trawler departs before dawn. The crew is generally made up of professional fisherman, gambling addicts, drunks, absconders and people who are on their last chance in life.
There are a few spews overboard - not from seasickness, but from drinking the night before. Eventually a huge net is lowered into the water. This net scrapes up anything it possibly can.
Nobody wants any bother with Facebook wildlife activists. So, if there are any cute animals caught in the net they are quickly cut free and thrown back into the ocean so they can peacefully sink to the bottom.
The workers then rumble through what’s in the net. Ironically, most crabs are not kept as they are ace fun to smash to little bits. In fact, the prized catch is actually star fish. This is because they are used as ninja stars and are thrown at either the youngest or most mentally deficient members of the crew. Whatever’s leftover is brought back to shore to be made into crab sticks.
Once on dry land, a quick head count is usually done. If it’s revealed that someone is missing it’s protocol to say the person never actually turned up for work. The catch is then loaded on a lorry before being taken to the factory. There is a quick stop off to see 'a bloke’. This ‘bloke’ has his office in the front bar of a pub near the docks. He gets the pick of the fish before the factory does.
At the factory the catch is washed to remove all smell. It's frozen and dehydrated before being pulverised to a gelatinous paste. Gums, starches, oils, sweeteners, salt, flavourings and heaps of other shit is added to give it a texture and taste that resembles a crab that’s shaped like a stick.
It is then re-frozen, sealed and ready to be delivered.
Now it's distributed to sushi bars run by Chinese people pretending that they’re Japanese. Here, they put it in California rolls and call it ‘crab' or sometimes even ‘lobster’.
Last but not least, the shredded parts that haven’t made it to sushi are snapped up by junkies in the specials section at the supermarket. They eat it straight from plastic bags on train station platforms before discarding the rancid leftovers.
Eventually, the scraps will be licked up by someone’s guide dog before the dog naturally disposes of them. The waste will then wash out to sea, and nature’s process begins all over again.