We in Ireland are particularly fortunate with our native Prawn. Called the Dublin Bay Prawn it seems fairly prolific in the seas which surround us.
This particular crustacean is not unique to our waters , it is just that his name keeps changing as he moves about.
In English he is also known as the Norway Lobster, in France the Langoustine (both names giving you a better clue who his close relatives are) but the name under which he became a culinary film star was the one the Italians gave him ; Scampi.
As Scampi he became the doyen of the bistros of the 60s, 70s and even 80s. He even had his film star scandal when unscrupulous restaurateurs began to cut monk fish tails into appropriate sized pieces as sell them as Scampi.

These prawns are not in fact inhabitants of Dublin bay, but, we Irish were one of the first to appreciate their merits. Until the fifties British fisherman usually discarded any netted accidentally, but we had started to sell them a long time before that, direct off the boats, to the Molly Malone’s of Dublin.
Not being categorised as fish they didn’t have to go through the market before hitting the streets, so, as Alan Davidson tells us in North Atlantic Seafood (a masterpiece and, thank god, now back in print since last year) “the prawns were called Dublin Bay because out in the bay was where the vendors got them”

There is really very little which can compare in delicious sweet savour with a good Dublin Bay Prawn. The various warm water varieties which come to us frozen may have the edge in size, and appearance (and in ease of shelling) but for texture and taste our lad is the king.
He is not easy to peel though, he owes me several layers of thumb skin which have sloughed off over the years in the efforts to evict him from his shell.
Another little know fact about him is that he has natural phosphorescence.
(A fact often used as a ruse by commis chefs in the restaurant as they tried to lure young waitresses into the cold room –“Come in here till I show you my glowing prawns”)
On the subject of lewd conversation, the Dublin Bay Prawn stars in one of the best “dirty “ jokes I know.
[ Warning : This next bit contains strong language !]

Lady from Foxrock is in Moore Street Market in Dublin and is rummaging deep and long into the creel of prawns in an attempt to find the biggest ones. The fish wife eyes her sceptically and says “Thems prawns Ma’am, not pricks, they don’t get any bigger with the handling”

I owe a debt of gratitude to my brother in law Milo Lynch for telling me that joke many years ago. I have told it myself many hundreds of times since.

With regard to their cooking there is very little to be said. First take off their heads but keep them .Toss the tails into a large pot of boiling salted water, bring it back to the boil and boil for about 5 mts. (no more). Drain them. As soon as they are cool enough to handle pinch the two sides together to crack the shell then twist the prawn back against its natural curl until you break the shell across the back and then slip off both ends.
Don’t worry, you will get better at it after a while, and the skin does grow back on your thumbs.

Simplicity must be the key to eating these beauties once shelled.
Eat them cold with good mayonnaise, tinted pink with tomato puree if you feel you must. Eat them hot tossed in butter with lemon or garlic or both. In the recipes section I have a good recipe for Prawn Risotto which makes a little go a long way. But whatever else you do, do not throw out the heads. They make the most wonderful prawn stock, use it in Prawn Bisque or Prawn Chowder
both of which you will find again in the recipes under “soups” .

A final story about the Dublin Bay Prawn and this one is true.

In the early 80s I ran a fish restaurant in the Strand Hotel in Dunmore East . I normally got my fish from the auction in Dunmore but one day I was caught short and had to go into Waterford town to Flanagan’s Fish merchants to get some to top up my supply.
I couldn’t find a handy place to park the car so had to park in Christchurch Cathedral a couple of hundred yards from the fish shop.
I got two large bags of live prawns which proceeded to wriggle desperately as I clutched them both to my breast on the way back to the car. As I was crossing the road to the cathedral one managed to escape and lay in the middle of the road doing spectacular back flips. To put down my wriggling bags would have been a disaster so a made a bolt for the car , hurled the prawns into the boot and turned to collect the prodigal.
He was still there, twitching, in the middle of the road but had managed to attract a small audience of astounded and alarmed people. As I looked at them a man who had been closely studying the twitcher raised his eyes from the prawn and looked, questioningly , straight up into the sky.

I got back into my car and slowly drove away.