Let’s do a bit of shrimp-related math.
The average white shrimp—the type you might buy at the grocery store—lays about 30 eggs at a time.
That sounds like a lot for a shrimp, but you must keep in mind that the ocean is a cruel place. It’s full of hungry whales and eels and fish with weird eyes, which means only a few of those 30 shrimp eggs will survive long enough to hatch. Let’s say six of them make it to adulthood, on average.
Those six survivors each have another six children. Thus, we can say that a shrimp generation has about 36 members.
Now let’s consider a bag of dried shrimp—the type you find at Korean and Chinese markets. The shrimp are tiny. After rigorous testing, I have determined that a heaping tablespoon contains about 42 of them.
There are 36 shrimp in a generation. There are 42 dried shrimp in a tablespoon.
That means when you eat a single spoonful of dried shrimp, you consume an entire generation. Every time you take a bite another bloodline disappears. Your destructive powers cause shrimp across the ocean to tremble. They immortalize you in their shrimply texts. You are the Alpha and the Omega. The Beginning and the End. You are Krishna, entropy, time itself—Death, destroyer of shrimp worlds.
Which, of course, is a compelling case for eating more dried shrimp. We all enjoy a seafood-based power trip now and then. But it’s far from the only reason to add these desiccated crustaceans to your cooking.
There are certain ingredients that work in almost any dish. Parmigiano Reggiano is a good example. I’ve been served Parmesan cheese in scallion pancakes, tacos, citrus salad, ramen—all kinds of dishes from all kinds of cuisines, and every time I’ve been happy to have it there. The reason is that Parmesan is almost pure umami. It hits, with perfect pitch, all the right flavor notes to create a sense of savoriness. You can put it anywhere you want and it will nestle in among the other ingredients and play nice.
Dried shrimp are similar. You’d expect them to be fishy; surprisingly, they are not. They’re crunchy little umami bombs that fit in with nearly any kind of cooking. They’re also easy to prepare and they keep in your pantry forever.
Here’s what I do with dried shrimp:
Crunchy Dried Shrimp Flakes
Makes: a lot
Total time: 2 minutes
Ingredients:
A handful of dried shrimp
A little squeeze of lime juice
a pinch of dried chili (I use gochugaru, which are Korean red pepper flakes, but cayenne would do just fine. Chipotle powder would also be good if you want smoky flavor)
A dash of soy sauce
Salt, to taste
Directions:
Add all the ingredients except salt to a mortar and pestle or spice grinder.
Grind the mixture as fine as you’d like. Flake consistency is nice if you want some crunch. You can take the shrimp all the way down to a powder if you want flavor without texture.
Taste and adjust for salt.
Transfer the shrimp flakes to an airtight container and place them in your cabinet. They’ll keep for weeks unrefrigerated.
Take a moment to congratulate yourself. You now have thousands of pulverized sea creatures sitting in your pantry, waiting to rain down upon your meals.
How should you deploy your shrimp topping? Here are a few ideas.
Shrimp flakes are a perfect addition to Caesar salad. Sprinkle them on top right before serving. They behave like crispy fried onions, but with more flavor.
Make shrimp-lime butter. In a bowl, combine a block of softened butter, a handful of shrimp flakes, the zest and juice of a lime, and dried chili or chili powder. Whip to incorporate, then put on top of steak, vegetables, crusty bread, popcorn, or anything else. This butter is particularly good on pasta with a bit of grated Parmesan.
The next time you roast a piece of pork—especially a thick-cut pork chop or sliced pork belly—add a shower of shrimp flakes just before serving. The combination of shrimp and pork is sublime.
These are all good uses for shrimp flakes. But if you want to be truly luxurious, you must break out the potato chips.
Take a handful of chips and spread them evenly on a plate. Dot the chips with garlic aioli, then drape on thin slices of jamón ibérico and finish with a generous dusting of shrimp flakes. Voilà! You get the marriage of pork and shrimp, plus the double crunch of the chips and flakes and the garlicky bite of the aioli—a glorious appetizer.
Or, in lieu of any cooking, you can take a bowlful of shrimp flakes to bed with you and eat them plain, with a spoon, while your loved ones sleep. But be warned! You will spill some shrimp in your linens—that’s just the nature of the game—and in the morning, when your spouse asks why the bed is so shrimpy, you must lie. For deception is at the heart of all good relationships, and your partner cannot discover just how obsessed with dried shrimp you’ve become.
"After rigorous testing, I have determined that a heaping tablespoon contains about 42 of them." Picturing you with a magnifying glass, counting out each individual shrimp, for science. Amazing.
So good, Spence. One of your best.