Plate with lobster, silver jug, large Berkenmeyer, fruit bowl, violin and books, 1641 by Pieter Claesz
The first time I ever cooked a whole lobster was the summer after I graduated college. [I did not personally cook the lobsters from start to finish but I did participate]. I had enjoyed the buttery full bodied taste of lobster before, in pastas and appetizers, but too often it was drowned in sauce and other flavor distractions.
There is something very singular about the entire experience of picking out a lobster, freshly caught from the ocean that same morning, and taking it home writhing in a paper bag only to throw it into a boiling pot of hot water to then rip it limb from limb as you devour its flesh. Divine! It felt like a special culinary moment, like the first time you have an oyster, and I was eager to face it head on.
Despite what PETA says about the pain that lobster’s feel, the loud screaming sounds they emit when put head first into boiling water is actually the sound of pressure being released from their shells. However, fully equipped with this knowledge, I was nonetheless terrified of having to do the deed. Matt and I were at the Menemsha Docks on Martha’s Vineyard, still in our first year of dating, and he was cooking the meal especially for me as a special rite of passage. We had our two pound lobsters in the paper bag from Larsen’s (a local institution if you know the island). I was asked to put them beside me in his grandmother’s old Mazda Miata, a sporty two seater we used for quick jaunts. The sight of the bag moving on its own terrified me.
“Many a phobia were built upon the lobster scene in Annie Hall and I will admit that part of my terror was a direct result of that movie more so than any perceived threat from the actual creature.”
As we opened the car doors to make our way back, still arguing about the best course of action, a British voice chimed in from behind us saying Just put it to sleep. Both of us turned around to see a cheery older man in his late fifties, early sixties wearing a weathered Chilmark T-shirt, cargo shorts, and crocs. He continued that If you hold a lobster upside down on its head, hands together in almost a yoga headstand, and stroke it’s spine, it will fall asleep. Then you just pop it in the water and that's that. Never in my life had I heard of this. You would think after years, decades even, of people being terrified to cook a lobster that someone would have thought to share this information. Many a phobia were built upon the lobster scene in Annie Hall and I will admit that part of my terror was a direct result of that movie more so than any perceived threat from the actual creature.
Heartened, we thanked our fairy godmother like fisherman and drove home ready to make dinner. While we put the water on to boil in a massive pot, I checked on the state of the lobsters, and from some form of morbid curiosity spent one moment too long staring at its beady eyes and antennae. The team at Larsens packed them with ice bags so they were still chilled and practically catatonic. We left them on the large butcher’s block that was used as the kitchen island and focused on preparing the rest of the meal. We starting shucking the Morning Glory corn, peeling long swathes of golden silk from the husks until the floor was littered with strands. Next we set out to prepare the potatoes to boil. Matt started to cook down the butter for the sauce and had me pull out the special equipment for the meal: lobster crackers to open its shell, tiny forks called pics to grab the delicate flesh in its legs, and adult size bibs to protect our clothing from the carnage. Loving the pomp and circumstance that elevated this trumped up finger food, we rooted through the fridge to find whatever wine would pair best with our dinner. We had three options to choose from and knowing nothing about wine at the time, spent several minutes intensely discussing and tasting the wines trying to make heads or tails of which bottle suited best. By the time we had picked one, after many swishes and tastes on an empty stomach, we did not notice the lobsters rousing from their sedation until we heard the papery sound of the bags rustling towards the edge of the table. They are making a break for it!
Julia Child preparing Lobster Thermidor
With their claws still bound in rubber hands, we quickly mustered up the courage to take the lobsters out of their plastic. Grabbing them by their spines, we did our best to remember the fisherman’s advice. Flipping the lobsters upside down, hands together in an almost prayer pose, we started to stroke their slimy spines. The back of my neck burst into goosebumps with that creepy crawly feeling but being more hungry than afraid I persisted. After a minute or so, the lobsters were so stunned by the gesture that we were able to leave them in a full headstand while we finished setting the table for dinner. The timer went off to signal that the water was boiling and I was ready to confront my culinary initiation. Matt held the top of the lobster pot for me as I grabbed our narcoleptic friends and popped them into the boiling water. As I squealed in excitement and fear, the water stirred in a gentle sloshing sound.
“The first bite was exquisite. Slightly briny, but also fleshy and sweet, it was unlike anything else I had tasted before. Each part had its own unique flavor and I quickly danced between eating the meat of the tail and the sweetness of the legs. ”
We clinked our glasses together in celebration of a job well done and set the second timer. Fifteen minutes later, the lobsters emerged from the water the most marvellous shade of red. We donned our bibs, ripped open their tails, and ready to eat our prey. Looks like they are both female Matt said examining their innards. It's up to you whether you want to eat them or not. It’s considered a delicacy.
After going through the exhaustive process of dealing with the lobsters live, it felt wrong and also insulting to then eat their roe. I had been pushed far enough in pursuit of my culinary curiosity. I politely demanded that he deal with the situation and refilled my wine glass.
The first bite was exquisite. Slightly briny, but also fleshy and sweet, it was unlike anything else I had tasted before. Each part had its own unique flavor and I quickly danced between eating the meat of the tail and the sweetness of the legs. I saved the claws for last, eating them raw and then slathered in a lemon butter sauce. The bowl in the center of the table used for the shells quickly filled up with odds bits of debris and whatever else you didn’t want to eat. I shot my lobster’s head into the bowl from the opposite side of the table in an attempt to make a three point basket. I laughed now understanding why Matt loved to eat lobster so much. It really is the only time it's socially acceptable, even considered elevated, to play with your food.
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