Crab and Shrimp Seafood Bisque Recipe

Okay, so. I’m Kelsey. And I just wanna say—this recipe? It’s not actually called “Potsticker Soup” anywhere in the instructions. Like… at all. But hey, maybe you googled “potsticker soup” because you wanted something warm, cozy, dumpling-adjacent, and full of flavor? Yeah. I get it.

But what we’ve actually got here is a creamy, dreamy Crab and Shrimp Seafood Bisque . And honestly? It’s so good, you’re gonna forget what you originally searched for. (Don’t worry, I won’t tell.)

So let’s just roll with it. I’ll explain the name thing real quick, then dive into this luscious, creamy soup that tastes like the ocean hugged your soul.

Why Is It Called "Bisque"?

Alright, real talk. The word “bisque” sounds fancy, right? Like something served in tiny cups at a wedding you can’t afford.

But it’s just… soup. Fancy soup, sure, but still.

Originally, bisque was a French thing—rich, smooth, made from shellfish, and often boozy . Like, brandy or sherry would get poured in like it was water. Classy? Yes. Necessary? Debatable.

Nowadays, “bisque” usually means thick, creamy, tomato-kissed, and cooked-down-to-perfection soup. Usually with seafood. Always delicious.

So no, it’s not potstickers. But could you add a potsticker on the side? Absolutely. And I highly recommend it. Boom. Now it’s potsticker soup. Problem solved.

What's the Difference Between Seafood Bisque and Chowder?

Great question. Let’s break it down like we’re arguing at a diner at 2 a.m.

• Bisque ? Smooth. Silky. Elegant. It’s like the soup went to college and learned how to use a napkin.
• Chowder ? Chunky. Hearty. Rustic. It’s the soup that shows up in flannel and says, “I brought bread bowls.”

Bisque gets blended. Chowder stays chunky on purpose.

Bisque uses cream and often tomato paste for depth. Chowder uses potatoes, more veggies, and sometimes bacon (because, obviously).

This recipe? Bisque. 100%. No potatoes. No bacon (though… maybe next time?). Just creamy, luxurious, shellfish heaven.

Tips for Making Seafood Bisque (That Don’t Suck)

Okay, Kelsey’s Hot Takes™:

• Use real crab meat if you can. I know it’s pricey. I know canned or imitation is easier. But the real stuff? Sweet, tender, melts into the soup like it was born there.
• Don’t rush the roux. That butter + flour mix? Cook it for a full minute. Stir it. Let it bubble. That’s what keeps your soup smooth and lump-free.
• Warm the milk first. This is a chef’s kiss move. Cold milk hitting hot butter can cause lumps. Warm it slightly—like, just take the chill off—and whisk like your life depends on it.
• Simmer low and slow. This isn’t a “throw it together and run” kind of soup. Let it thicken slowly. Patience = flavor.
• Add seafood at the end. You’re just warming it through. Overcook shrimp? Rubber city. Nobody wants that.
• Garnish like you mean it. Fresh parsley. A sprinkle of Old Bay. Maybe a lemon wedge. Makes it look fancy, even if you’re eating it on the couch in sweatpants.

Ingredients (For That Creamy, Dreamy Bisque)

Here’s what you need. Nothing wild. Nothing you can’t find at a normal grocery store. Promise.

• 8 ounces crab meat – picked over, no shells, please. (I use lump crab. Feels fancy without being obnoxious.)
• 8 ounces cooked shrimp – already boiled or grilled, just chop ‘em up. Save yourself the hassle.
• 4 tbsp butter – because everything starts better with butter.
• ⅓ cup green onions – chopped. The green parts give it a little bite.
• ⅓ cup celery – chopped. Adds that subtle crunch and aroma.
• 2 cups milk – whole milk works best. Don’t go skim. This is not the time to be healthy.
• 1 ½ cups heavy cream – yes, it’s heavy. Yes, it’s worth it. This is comfort in liquid form.
• 1 tbsp tomato paste – just a spoonful. Gives color and a little tang.
• 3 tbsp flour – for thickening. The glue that holds this dream together.
• Salt and pepper – to taste. Start light. You can always add more.
• 1 tsp Old Bay Seasoning – the soul of this soup. That little spice blend? Magic. Don’t skip it.

How to Crab and Shrimp Seafood Bisque Recipe?

Step 1:

Grab a saucepan. Medium-high heat. Toss in the butter. Let it melt, all glossy and golden.

Then—add the celery and green onions. Cook ‘em for 3–4 minutes. Just until they’re soft, not crispy. You want flavor, not charcoal.

Step 2:

Sprinkle in the flour. Stir it in. Let it cook for a full minute. It’ll look like a paste. That’s the roux. Your thickening hero.

While that’s happening—warm up the milk in the microwave. 60 seconds. Just warm, not boiling.

Step 3:

Slowly pour the warm milk into the pan. Whisk like crazy. Get every lump out. You want smooth. You want creamy. You want no regrets .

Then—add the heavy cream, tomato paste, Old Bay, salt, and pepper. Whisk it all together. Keep it moving.

Step 4:

Turn the heat down. Let it simmer. Not boil. Just gentle bubbles. Cook for 20–30 minutes, stirring now and then. You’ll see it thicken. That’s the good stuff happening.

Step 5:

Now—add the shrimp and crab. Stir ‘em in. Let them heat through. 3–5 minutes. That’s it. Don’t overcook. We’re not punishing the seafood.

Final Touch:

Ladle it into bowls. Top with fresh parsley. Maybe a sprinkle of extra Old Bay. Crack some black pepper on top.

And serve. With crusty bread. Or a potsticker. Or a grilled cheese. Or just a spoon and zero shame.

Final Thoughts From Kelsey

Look. This soup takes a couple hours. Yeah. But most of that is just… sitting there, doing its thing. You can fold laundry. Text your mom. Watch a whole episode of The Office .

And when it’s done? You’ll have this rich, creamy, ocean-kissed bowl of joy. It’s fancy enough for company. Comforting enough for a bad day.

And hey—if you wanna call it “Potsticker Soup” because you dropped a dumpling in it? I won’t stop you.

I might even join you.

—Kelsey