Shrimp Cocktail

No appetizer is more suited to retro entertaining than the spectacularly awful, and awfully spectacular, shrimp cocktail. The shrimp cocktail is celebration food, its arrival at table, nestled in ice or chilled in pewter, a definitive announcement of special times commencing. Shrimp cocktail has long been an emblem of the good life, signifying a distinctive American democracy of equal opportunity fanciness. It is just special enough to notate an occasion, circulated in wine glasses at countless country club receptions, arriving as first course at innumerable hostessed dinners. It is just rich enough to count as an indulgence, plunked down in casinos for vacationers playing the slots. And it is just trashy enough that you can find it in the frozen food section, nestled in six-packs of brine shrimp and ketchup amongst the canapes and poppers.

During the mid-twentieth century, in American households shrimp cocktail was synonymous with fancy food. Serving it meant that diners were being treated to something special. You knew that a dinner party had been an event when, during evaluations over the next few days, attendees spread the word that shrimp cocktail had been served. At key receptions, society reporters might include highlights from the menu with their report if it was fancy enough so to warrant; noting not just shrimp cocktail but Champagne, rumaki, Oysters Rockefeller. Even today, shrimp cocktail remains a pillar of the steakhouse appetizer menu as a suitable curtain warmer for a steak dinner.

It is ironic that shrimp cocktail is associated with gracious living, for it is difficult to find mentors of lifestyle from the era who appreciated it. James Beard famously derided it, primarily and not unfairly due to the indifferent globs of cocktail sauce in which the shrimp often were found swimming, pronouncing that if you must serve it, it was best with an enhanced aioli. There's no reference, at least in my homekeeper's library, to it by Russel Wright, Julia Child, Dorothy Draper, or vintage Good Housekeeping or Better Homes and Gardens. It appears in vintage Sunset, which makes sense as shrimp cocktail is likely an evolution of fresh oysters served with sauce from Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco, which I believe also links it to the prairie oyster. And ChuckWilliams did bequeath a recipe for shrimp cocktail in a home entertaining book.

I find that people who grew in households from or influenced by the mid-century appreciate shrimp cocktail, and that it is common to coastal lifestyles. I can't eat it due to an allergy to shelled seafood, but John always orders it at the steakhouse, whether Keen's, The Smoke House, or The Hitching Post. For him, I learned to make shrimp cocktail, serving it as part of his birthday celebration and for other home entertaining events where I want to circulate something slightly fancy if somewhat vulgar, attuned to the retro vibe with which I like to host parties. Here is my recipe for shrimp cocktail, served old-school on crushed ice with lettuce leaves. The vodka and salt will cause the crushed ice to melt; that is part of the experience of this show-off. This recipe is meant for two; to prepare for a crowd, simply increase the ingredients exponentially. Serve it alongside quatre frommages, hot artichoke dip, marinated olives, fresh bread, and pitchers of Harvey Wallbangers and Bloody Marys.

Shrimp Cocktail

It is essential to obtain fresh seafood from a reputable fishmonger, whether at their own stall or in a supermarket. Fresh seafood should always look clean and smell fresh and briny; reject any that emits an off odor or displays discoloration. Ask for large or jumbo shrimp, peeled and deveined, fresh-caught not shipped frozen. Whether to leave the tails intact is up to you.

For the cocktail

1 dozen fresh large or jumbo shrimp (see above), refrigerated until ready to serve

1 head romaine, endive, or butter lettuce

1 bunch celery

1 lemon

Celery Salt

Crushed ice (see note below)
Vodka

For the cocktail sauce

1/2 cup tomato sauce

1 small shallot

2 tablespoons prepared horseradish

2 teaspoons hot sauce

2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce

1 teaspoon sake, Junmai

1 teaspoon sherry vinegar

¼ teaspoon salt

Mix the cocktail sauce

1. Peel and mince the shallot. Measure 1 tablespoon minced shallot into a bowl. Sprinkle the shallot with the sherry vinegar, sake, and a pinch of salt. Let sit for a few minutes until the shallot softens.
2. After a few minutes, measure the horseradish, hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, and tomato sauce into the bowl containing the shallot mixture. Stir the mixture thoroughly.
3. Cover and chill until ready to serve.

Prepare the vegetables

1. Separate several leaves of lettuce; rinse to get rid of dirt. Set aside to dry.
2. Cut the leafy tops from three or four stalks of celery; rinse to get ride of dirt. Set aside to dry.
3. Rinse the lemon with food-safe vegetable cleaner until it feels clean. Cut the lemon into four quarters lengthwise; seed. Cut a slit crossways in two of the lemon quarters.

Assemble and serve the cocktails

1. Run the cut lemon around the rim of two water goblets.
2. Fill each goblet 2/3 with crushed ice (see note below).
3. Stick a few lettuce leaves around the perimeter of the ice, up the side of the glass, nestled in the ice.
4. Stick a leafy celery top in the ice so that the celery rests against the side of the glass.
5. Sprinkle the crushed ice with a teaspoon of vodka and a shake of celery salt. 
6. Arrange six shrimp per glass on the crushed ice.
7. Top each cocktail with a spoonful of cocktail sauce.
8. Stick the lemon wedge on the edge of the glass.
9. Serve immediately with extra sauce on the side.

Crushing ice

Follow the manufacturer's directions to process about two cups of crushed ice. Click here to learn the ice crusher we use in our urban home.

Resources

Martini Fondue

Artichoke Dip

Party Dips