• How Not To Eat A Lobster

    lobster_560x375I met my first lobster back in the early eighties when I watched Annie Hall.

    It wasn’t much of a first impression.

    Next came the taste test. That happened months later, during dinner out. I can’t remember who ordered what, but somehow the lobster arrived, along with the melted butter and everyone insisted I should try it. So I accepted a bite and it was fine, easy to eat once someone else did all the work.

    Between you and me I didn’t understand all the fuss about lobsters. Perhaps knowing how they went from sea water to boiling water impacted my subconscious mind. I felt sorry for the poor things. I know, sort of hypocritical since I do eat meat and shrimps.

    Anyhow, I forgot all about lobsters until the family decided to take me out to dinner to celebrate something…Mother’s day?

    I was told it was a swanky restaurant and I should dress accordingly.

    If you live in the United States and the swanky restaurant has the word Shack as part of the name, you know their specialty must be seafood.

    This one was no exception.

    Very nice place. We had reservation and soon we were munching on warm, crusty sourdough, just the way I like it, and enjoying some chilled white wine. We perused our fancy menus and then our server came over and asked me to follow him. Follow him? Where? Everyone at the table seemed to be in on the joke and encouraged me to go. And so I went—to the center of the dining room where, in a large glass container swam a dozen or so of lobsters. I stand corrected, no swimming allowed. The lobsters had tape around their pinchers. Poor, poor things, my appetite waning I wanted to get out of there, fast.

    “Which one would like?” The waiter asked.

    Still in state of shock I assumed he offered me a lobster to take home until he added, “You get to pick the one you’ll like to eat.” He smiled while saying that.

    I willed myself to count to ten before returning to the table. No need to talk, my attitude and my ‘if looks could kill’ message said it all. We all had pasta for dinner and it wasn’t half as good as the one I cook at home.

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