Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter, take it from me!” Sebastian the crab sang these immortal words in The Little Mermaid, and after my experience with Crab Creme Brulee, I must say he had a point. Some things from the ocean should stay there, particularly when someone decides to marry them with classic French desserts.

When I first encountered the concept of Crab Creme Brulee, I approached it with an open mind. After all, we’ve seen savory twists on sweet dishes before – bacon in maple bars, salted caramel everything, and even cheese ice cream. As someone who has spent years exploring culinary boundaries, I thought, “Why not crab in a creamy custard with a crispy top?” Oh, how naive I was.

Before we dive deeper into this oceanic misadventure, let me share my gold standard for crab-based dishes: the legendary Krabby Patty from SpongeBob SquarePants. Now, I realize I’m referencing a fictional burger from a cartoon, but hear me out. The Krabby Patty represents everything a crab dish should be: savory, straightforward, and most importantly, not pretending to be a dessert. If only our real-world chefs would take notes from the Krusty Krab’s time-tested formula instead of creating these maritime mysteries.

Let’s talk about the flavor of this peculiar creation. Imagine, if you will, an aggressive blowfish blowing an off-key trumpet directly into your taste buds. That’s approximately what happens when the sweet vanilla-infused custard meets the briny essence of crab meat. The two flavors don’t harmonize – they wage war. It’s like watching a Broadway show where half the cast is performing “The Little Mermaid” while the other half is doing “Les Misérables.” Technically, they’re both musicals, but they absolutely do not belong together.

The texture is another story entirely. Traditional creme brulee should be silky smooth, with that satisfying crack of caramelized sugar on top. Adding crab meat to this equation creates what I can only describe as a tumultuous whirlpool of textural confusion. The delicate custard becomes a maritime moshpit, with chunks of crab meat floating around like lost sailors in a storm. Each spoonful is a surprise, and not the good kind – more like the surprise of finding a shell in your mouth when you thought you were getting custard.

After this experience, I can confidently say that this dish belongs back under the sea, preferably in a pineapple house where it can’t harm any more unsuspecting diners. Speaking of SpongeBob’s pineapple dwelling, I’d rather eat the actual pineapple house than another serving of this oceanic oddity.

However, in the spirit of culinary journalism (and perhaps masochism), I’m including the recipe below. Maybe you’ll discover something I missed, or perhaps you’re just curious about what could possibly go wrong in your own kitchen. Either way, proceed at your own risk.

Crab Creme Brulee Recipe

(Because someone has to document this for posterity)

Ingredients:

• 2 cups heavy cream
• 1 vanilla bean, split and scraped
• 4 egg yolks
• 1/3 cup sugar, plus more for topping
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 8 ounces lump crab meat, well-drained
• Pinch of Old Bay seasoning (because why not make it even more confusing?)

Instructions:

1. Preheat your oven to 300°F (150°C), or the temperature at which culinary dreams begin to melt.
2. In a saucepan, heat the cream and vanilla bean until barely simmering. Remove from heat and let it steep, wondering if you’re really going through with this.
3. Whisk together egg yolks, sugar, and salt until pale and slightly thickened, much like your resolve should be at this point.
4. Slowly whisk the warm cream into the egg mixture, removing the vanilla bean. Add the crab meat and Old Bay seasoning, ignoring the voice in your head screaming “Why?”
5. Divide the mixture among ramekins, place them in a water bath, and bake for about 35 minutes or until set but still slightly jiggly in the center.
6. Chill thoroughly, then sprinkle sugar on top and brulee with a torch until caramelized. Watch as the sugar forms a golden crust, perhaps the only normal part of this dish.

There you have it – a culinary creation that answers the question nobody asked: “What if we made dessert taste like the ocean floor?” If you decide to make this at home, please invite friends over. Not because it’s good, but because misery loves company, and someone needs to document this for posterity.

Remember, just because we can combine ingredients doesn’t mean we should. Some boundaries exist for a reason, and the line between dessert and seafood might be one of them. As for me, I’ll stick to enjoying my crab and my creme brulee separately, thank you very much.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go watch SpongeBob SquarePants to cleanse my palate mentally. At least there, the underwater cuisine makes sense.