(GAO ERQIANG/CHINA DAILY)
Zheng Xianchao doesn't look like a kidnapper, but his tied-up "victims" might tell you otherwise.
The 28-year-old Shanghai native arrives at the renowned Wang Bao He restaurant before 7 every morning and spends the next two hours selecting 1,000 hairy crabs from the back of a black van, flanked only by his shifu (master).
The two only pick female crabs that weigh more than 100 grams and males over 150 grams. Anything lighter would be frowned upon by the customers of the time-honored restaurant that specializes in the autumn delicacy.
After transporting the crabs to the 272-year-old restaurant, Zheng spends another three hours tirelessly tying each squirming crustacean with long blades of boiled lemongrass. The entire space, thanks to the scent of the herb, smells more like a spa than a kitchen.
This has been Zheng's daily routine during hairy-crab season for the past 10 years. The way he binds the crab's claws and feet together is down to muscle memory.
"I think I have dealt with more crabs than one could possibly eat in his life," laughs Zheng, as he finger-wrestles a crab into position before using his teeth to tug a blade of lemongrass tight around a crab.
The unusually high rainfall and flooding in East China this summer has resulted in a lower than expected hairy crab harvest this year. Crab output at Yangcheng Lake, the most famous production ground in China that spans more than 2,000 hectares, has dropped by 15 percent.
As a result, the price of these coveted crustaceans is the highest in a decade, around 150 yuan ($22) for a male and female pairing. That's equivalent to the minimum daily wage in Shanghai, and about 20 percent more than last year, according to the Yangcheng Lake Crab Industry Association.
