Slideshow: The Crab Cake Stakes

The thoroughbreds were running last Saturday at Monmouth Park Race Track in Oceanport, but for me the action was outside the grandstand, where thoroughbreds of the deep-fryer were going at it apron and tongs for the right to call themselves king of the Jersey crab cake.

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About 300 people turned out, and each of the ten restaurants or food vendors who participated had lines at their booths for most of the afternoon.

We tasted around. Cutting to the chase, my favorite crab cake by far was served by the David Burke Fromagerie. Burke is known for his playful, puckish takes on traditional foods. This one wasn't just amusing, it was creamy, delicious and a tour de force of contrasting textures.

The recipe was devised by Burke and modified for the occasion by his chef de cuisine, Pat Trama. The filling was peekytoe crab meat with finely minced red and yellow peppers and chives, grated lemon zest and ground-up pretzels.

A thick portion of filling was sandwiched between Saltines, creating a shape which paid homage to Spongebob Squarepants--a giant cut-out of whom decorated the booth. Why him? Who knows. Fun for the kids, perhaps. You didn't need to be a fan to become a fan of the crab cake.

Here's where it got ingenious. The Saltine sandwich was dipped in egg white and then rolled in rice pearls--tiny round white globes of rice starch about the size of sesame seeds. You can eat them raw; they're crunchy. When stuck to the Saltines they look like--aha!--salt crystals on a pretzel.

The chubby squares went into the deep-fryer, from which they emerged deep brown and even more pretzel manque.

Then they were squirted with two sauces: a thick creamy mango sauce and a tangy cumin-citrus-poppyseed vinaigrette.

I'm tough on crab cakes because my father's family is from Baltimore and I grew up on the best Chesapeake Bay blue crabs and deep-friend crab cakes. Say it's nostalgia or the romanticism of youth, but for a traditional crab cake, nothing tops those I wolfed down on visits to my cousin.

As for nouveau crab cakes, of which there are many, most are more cake than crab. Chefs gussy them up with spices and fillings; they knock themselves out being creative when the answer is in front of their noses: more crabmeat, less filler. Period.

So that's where I come from, when it comes to crab cakes.

But the Fromagerie crab cake was brilliant. Who would have thought Saltines would made such  unbeatable bookends? They were brown and crunchy and a little caramelized, as was the edges of the crab filling between the crackers.

The filling made the perfect counterpoint. Creamy, light, rich with crab flavor, plush under the crunch of the crackers. Add the two lip-smacking sauces and you had, in my mind, a clear winner.

Chef Tony Provenzano of the Fromagerie said he had been up since early that morning hand-making 400 orders of these pretzel-crusted crab cakes. That's 800 pieces, because you got two to an order, for $5. Which made them a bargain in addition to the best tasting food at the fair.

For an unbargain, all you had to do was line up for the forgettable $9 crab cake sandwich from Jake's Crab Shack in Belmar.

The contest was sponsored by the Star-Ledger and its proudly plebeian Munchmobile. By the time Peter Genovese, the Ledger food writer, and his judges (previous "Munchers") issued their verdict at 5 pm, most of the crowd had left and mainly just the vendors and their friends and families were hanging around to see who won.

The crab cake winner was My Two Sons Savannah-Style Seafood, who have a space in the Blue Building of the Englishtown auction.

I liked their traditional crab cake, though I thought it was a bit overspiced, masking the delicate flavor of the crab meat. The Ledger report the next day trumpeted "Longshot Upsets Top Chefs" and noted that the five-judge panel was unanimous in naming My Two Sons the winner, with Jake's Crab Shack placing second.

No accounting for taste. But you couldn't help but feel happy for Rita Simmons, the matriarch of My Two Sons, and those two sons, Rasheed and Brian.

Rita grew up in Savannah, where she learned to cook at a young age, under her grandmother's tutelage. She started with tasks like picking beans from the garden. Then by age 10 she was entrusted with shopping at the grocery store.

"If I didn't do it right," Rita said, "my grandmother sent me back. One thing I've learned over the years is you have to start with fresh clean ingredients. I wasn't allowed to start frying until I was twelve."

Another of her grandmother's lessons, a good rule of thumb for all cooks and chefs, was "If you don't want to eat it yourself, don't sell it to anybody else."

For her superb hush puppies, Rita said she orders her yellow cornmeal from South Carolina, and  mixes in fresh corn kernels.

This was My Two Sons' first entry into the Star-Ledger contest.

"I went to bed at 10 pm, because I wanted to get plenty of rest," Rita said. "But at 2 am I was still awake, thinking, I've got to win."

Mission accomplished. That night Rita Simmons and her two sons no doubt slept soundly.