Ain't nothin' gonna break-a my stride. Nobody gonna slow me down. Oh no. I got to keep on crabbing. Despite the well-founded worries of the immigration rally cramping the style of The Hungry Cat during its annual crab fest, diners that were present were treated to bushels upon bushels of blue crab. And in an homage to my favorite sports writer, Bill Simmons, here's my running diary:

11:50am - I arrive at Hungry Cat and see the crowd milling about waiting for the restaurant to open. Helicopters were buzzing overhead, presumably news choppers covering the rally on nearby Hollywood Blvd. I got up late after spending the evening in Redondo Beach at a friend's Whiskey Tasting Party. I was, as they say, ready to begin the day anew.

12:00 Noon - They begin letting people with reservations in, but at this early juncture, there was enough room for walk-ins, including those who were a little confused about the concept about a prix-fixe menu that revolved around seasoned crustaceans. They politely paid for a drink and left, creating another opening.

12:07 - I order my first caloric content of the day, a can of Natural Bohemian beer ("Natty Bo"). Over the course of the next hour I begin to think that it actually tastes better the warmer it gets, but I ask for a glass of water just in case I'm kidding myself.

12:09 - First course, crab soup. It had half a crab sitting in it along with shreds of crab meat floating throughout along side finely diced veggies. It was served with a great grilled corn bread that soaked up the flavors perfectly. My Natty Bo, being still kind of cold, doesn't seem to taste quite right.

The menu was pre-set, but there was some flexibility in drinks. All the wines were still available, and there were a handful of special cocktails, too. Sweet tea with bourbon, a mint julep and a peachtree margarita formed the bar menu, and in traditional Hungry Cat fashion, all were served with copious amounts of liquor. Their trick is that the rest of the ingredients (the purees, simple syrups and freshly muddle fruit) mask a lot of the strong alcoholic flavor, so you can have a good time and not quite realize it.

12:15 - Feeling no shame, I pick the half crab out from my soup bowl and start tearing into it with my hands. Mallet? Pshaw. That's for rookies. I grew up on the Chesapeake; how would my family back in Norfolk feel about me being unable to deconstruct a crab? I remember growing up and catching this stuff right off the coast in Virginia Beach. Some people never forget how to ride a bike. I didn't forget how to dismantle oceanic invertebrates.

12:20 - Second course, crab cake with slaw. It's the headlining picture, and directly above is a picture of the macaroni salad that was served along with the crab cake. This doesn't have the ethereal quality of the crab cake at Brigantine in Del Mar, but then again, it's hard to ask for refinement when I've got Maryland spice dripping off my hands and a bar area covered with soaked newspapers. But it's still a very very good crab cake, and worked really well with the tartness of the macaroni salad.

12:28 - I order my second beer, an Alesmith IPA. Alesmith is a microbrewery out of San Diego (actually Escondido, but no one outside of the 619 would ever belabor that point). I took off my bib figuring that my washing machine works.

12:30 - The first round of crabs come out. The guy sitting next to me was a walk-in who had just come out of Amoeba Records and noticed the hubbub going on. I was showing my neighbors there at the bar my crab shelling kung fu: hold the crab upside down, use your off hand to grip the carapace (which is now facing down), and then use your strong hand to take the crab by the apron (it's hard to call it the butt when it's got eight legs) and just pull the carapace and the main body apart.

Blue crab is different from dungeness crab not only in its smaller size but also its creamier consistency. Many seafood aficionados prefer it over its Pacific coast cousins, and I do as well, but as long as it's cooked properly, any crab is good, and I always prefer it over lobster. Heck, you can have those Malaysian style mega-crabs that are just nothing but lobes upon lobes of lump crab meat; I ain't mad atcha.

12:50 - The second round of crabs come out. I blew through the first three, but my Alesmith IPA (which stands for It's Pretty Awesome and also I Prefer Alesmith) is starting to fill me up. Damn me and my beer swilling ways! I thought I'd be fine for crab fest if I'd skip breakfast, until I remembered that I was having crab fest for breakfast.

12:51 - I order the sweet tea with no liquor in it. This is my moment of restraint.

12:52 - Moment over.

At this point I begin getting into a pointed discussion with the Walk-In Guy next to me. We were talking about restaurants in the area and where he'd take clients, and he mentioned that he wouldn't recommend Hungry Cat even though it's great food. I love playing devil's advocate at bars, just because there's something really disarming and unexpected about being asked tough questions by me as I ponder the complexities of my corn bread.

1:10 - Seriously, Magnolia but not Hungry Cat? Sushi Ike but not Hungry Cat? I know that the space lends itself to a total down-to-earth vibe (which juxtaposes wonderfully with the hipster clientele) and perhaps that would be inappropriate for certain business clients, but I just wanted to see if Walk-In Guy could articulate that conclusion. So I keep asking tough questions as I ponder the subtleties of the secret non-Old Bay spice blend.

1:20 - The salt is starting to get to me; I had to slow down with some corn bread and sweet tea as I recollected myself. I remember in college when we had a king crab leg eating contest at Red Lobster. The winner ended up with such an ionic imbalance that he had blurry vision. Yup, slowing down = good thing.

1:30 - I order round three just to see how far I could get into it.

1:45 - One. Meanwhile, the patrons on the other side of me have also finished, though one diner was powering through her third round as well as her fourth cocktail. Should I turn in my Man Membership Card now?

Walk-In Guy had left and a new patron has taken his place at the bar. After he works through his first two courses, I show him also how to separate body from carapace. There's a quiet satisfaction as a diner when you're at an All You Can Eat joint and you witness a "turn" of guests, knowing that you out-endured the previous round of customers. I'm sure the restaurant, on the other hand, has a different quiet opinion.

1:50 - I decide to tap out and just go for the dessert. The final tally was 8 crabs, maybe slightly more if you consider the crab soup and the crab cake, but I'm happy with amount of wreckage I've caused for one Sunday afternoon. The dessert was a plum shortbread whose tartness really cut through the saltiness that caked the lining of my mouth. A perfect respite and a delightful way to end the meal.

2:20 - Commemorative shirt in hand (I ruefully had enough paprika on my fingertips to still stain it -- D'oh!) and a bill paid, I check out. Rallies everywhere were still going strong, but I was in serious need of a nap. And a washing machine.