Memorial Day. The unofficial first day of summer. Across the country, people are taking the covers off their pools, firing up their grills, and celebrating the start of another year of red-blooded American backyard living.

Here in Manhattan, some of us lawyers (particularly us junior lawyers) are in the office on Memorial Day. It could be worse; after all, we don't have backyards, we don't have outdoor grills, and we sure as hell don't have swimming pools. No, we live in 500-square foot apartments; pay more in rent per month than the mortgages on those houses with the outdoor grills and the swimming pools, and work 100 hours a week to pay for it. So today instead of grilling up a batch of steaks, burgers, and chops; instead of whipping up some fresh mayonnaise for a homemade potato salad; instead of cracking open a cheap domestic beer with family and friends; I billed 10 hours and ordered in sushi for one, which I ate at my desk.

But city life has its advantages. At Citarella this weekend, there are three crates of softshell blue crabs in the center of the fish display, with a little sign in front of them that reads: $2.99/ea. Softshell season began the day after the first full moon in May, and the little critters are waiting for me, practically right outside my front door. So in one of my free moments this holiday weekend, I fried up some softshell crabs, tempura style, and made a sandwich with shredded raddichio, fresh basil, and miso-sesame vinaigrette.

You can have your fishmonger clean your softshells for you, but you'd better be ready to cook them right away. Otherwise, get crabs that still fight back a little when they're picked up, keep them on ice until you're ready to cook, then snip their heads off just behind the eyes with a sharp knife or scissors.

When I was a kid, we went crabbing in the Chesapeake Bay with a chicken thigh tied to a wire trap. Growing up in Maryland, they teach you to distinguish male from female blue crabs based on the shapes of their bellyplates (girl crabs have a capital dome, boy crabs have a Washington monument). Any softshell you find at market will likely be a female, which makes cleaning it easier.

After you've snipped off the crab's face, peel back the bellyplate to expose the gill filaments underneath. Brush those back with your fingers, uncovering the body shell underneath.

When you've pulled the bellyplate down, grip it firmly, twist it back and forth, and break it loose, pulling out the intestinal vein along with it. If you don't like the flavor of the crab liver (a/k/a tomalley), press down on the body to squeeze out the yellow goo inside. Rinse your softshell, pat it dry with a paper towel, then coat it with crumbs or batter and fry it up.

Maybe I don't have a backyard full of friends and grilled meats and cold beer. But hey, look what I can put together on a moment's notice with the vast epicurean resources at my fingertips. Surely the conveniences and luxury of fine city living are worth the price we pay with the best years of our lives. Clearly, I have made the most of Memorial Day weekend in Manhattan.