Being from Maine, as well as being married to a Louisiana man, it is only natural that I have a thing for seafood. I was an extrordinarily late bloomer when it came to developing my taste for it. I wouldn't touch fish, shell fish or anything even slightly related until one fateful trip downeast.
I was twenty years old before I actually willingly tasted and enjoyed my first lobster even though I grew up on the central Maine coast. To me lobster was disgusting...as close to a water spider as it gets. Fish were equally appalling...scaly and stinky...and there was some distant memory of worms being discovered when smelts were cleaned, ugh! Shrimp weren't even on the radar screen in those days, and anyway, Gulf shrimp put Maine shrimp to shame. Maine shrimp are like little, bitty, sorry, worn-out erasers on an old number 2 pencil. I didn't discover the delight of Gulf shrimp until I moved to the panhandle of Florida...then it was open season. Over the years my husband and I have devoured buckets of steamed shrimp served with cold beer.
In college a group of us stayed at the home of one of our friends in Southwest Harbor, Maine where I came face to face with the ultimate challenge...every dinner was some form of seafood! As much as I can be a cross to bear at times, I am usually polite when it comes to food. If you fix it, then by goodness I am going to eat it. I wasn't much different in 1981 (oh that hurts). The first night there were about ten of us gathered around the table when I realized with a sinking feeling that dinner was going to be fish chowder. At that point I would rather have taken the option my cats often sink to when they drink out of the toilet. I knew I was sunk. What was I going to do...refuse to eat? If it had been my parents house I would have said "hell no", but I was a guest. I reigned in my courage and dove into my first bowl. I hate to say it but it was a two bowl night. I have no pride...one spoonful and I was hooked. The lady knew what she was doing.
The second night she served steamed lobster with gallons of melted butter to dip it in. Once again I felt the "oh damn" feeling coming on. And once again, I conquered my finicky ways and wallowed right in...I loved it! The reason I say wallow is because that's what you do with lobster.
There are any number of methods for picking and eating lobster. Most people have a preferred method they never waiver from during their lifetime. There are those who pick every morsel out in a neat orderly fashion, dropping each piece in their own bowl of hot, melted butter until they have a quagmire of lobster claws, tails and feelers (not a technically correct term but you get my drift). The problem with this method is that any untrustworthy relative or friend will do his or her best to snag some of your butter laden lobster when you are distracted by a particularly pesky claw you're trying to break into. Obviously since I am surrounded by sneaks and cheats I do not use this method.
My preferred method (which will perhaps appeal to all with ADHD tendencies and sneaky dinner companions) is to painstakingly crack into the old boy piece by piece, savoring each butter-dripping piece fully and then moving on to the next cracking, pulling, sucking, maneuver until I have polished off everything but the head, tomale (repulsive green livery slime in the middle) and "feelers". I save those for my dear husband who doesn't know any better! By the way, he is the primary lobster sneak and cheat I refer to above and the main reason I eat my lobster like the only dog in the pack with a tasty, knobby ham bone. Guard it baby, guard it!
That long ago weekend in Maine instilled a love for seafood that has only grown with each year. We're fortunate enough to get good seafood when we go either north to Maine or south to Louisiana and I typically eat my way through every vacation. In Maine it's crab meat rolls, fish chowder, and lobster. In Louisiana it's big gulf shrimp, craw fish (I'm married okay...sometimes you make concessions no matter how alarming), and crabs. Um, Um! Even here in Kentucky I go for the frozen stuff...it beats the alternative.
All of this talk of shellfish brings me to the point of my story...yes I can be frighteningly long winded sometimes. I'd love for you all to think I am ever so clever, and on the occasional rare day I may be. But I was not the clever one to come up with this beautiful and unique solution for messy seafood. Last weekend my mother forwarded an email she had received from a new friend named Jacqueline and it's one of the most unique solutions for eating lobster, crab, steamers, craw fish or shrimp that I have ever seen. Who would have thought to use colorul, bright, enamal colanders to serve shellfish in? What a great idea. No more food floating in drainage water. Everything stays fresh and clean and the juices drain right into a shallow bowl or plate beneath. I love how she arranged a small bottle of wine, napkin, lemon halves and a lobster fork and a beautiful shell in each one. Even cleanup is easy with this setup. Now my mission is to locate about eight of the bright colanders to have on hand. I am so impressed! Thanks Jacqueline!
I was twenty years old before I actually willingly tasted and enjoyed my first lobster even though I grew up on the central Maine coast. To me lobster was disgusting...as close to a water spider as it gets. Fish were equally appalling...scaly and stinky...and there was some distant memory of worms being discovered when smelts were cleaned, ugh! Shrimp weren't even on the radar screen in those days, and anyway, Gulf shrimp put Maine shrimp to shame. Maine shrimp are like little, bitty, sorry, worn-out erasers on an old number 2 pencil. I didn't discover the delight of Gulf shrimp until I moved to the panhandle of Florida...then it was open season. Over the years my husband and I have devoured buckets of steamed shrimp served with cold beer.
In college a group of us stayed at the home of one of our friends in Southwest Harbor, Maine where I came face to face with the ultimate challenge...every dinner was some form of seafood! As much as I can be a cross to bear at times, I am usually polite when it comes to food. If you fix it, then by goodness I am going to eat it. I wasn't much different in 1981 (oh that hurts). The first night there were about ten of us gathered around the table when I realized with a sinking feeling that dinner was going to be fish chowder. At that point I would rather have taken the option my cats often sink to when they drink out of the toilet. I knew I was sunk. What was I going to do...refuse to eat? If it had been my parents house I would have said "hell no", but I was a guest. I reigned in my courage and dove into my first bowl. I hate to say it but it was a two bowl night. I have no pride...one spoonful and I was hooked. The lady knew what she was doing.
The second night she served steamed lobster with gallons of melted butter to dip it in. Once again I felt the "oh damn" feeling coming on. And once again, I conquered my finicky ways and wallowed right in...I loved it! The reason I say wallow is because that's what you do with lobster.
There are any number of methods for picking and eating lobster. Most people have a preferred method they never waiver from during their lifetime. There are those who pick every morsel out in a neat orderly fashion, dropping each piece in their own bowl of hot, melted butter until they have a quagmire of lobster claws, tails and feelers (not a technically correct term but you get my drift). The problem with this method is that any untrustworthy relative or friend will do his or her best to snag some of your butter laden lobster when you are distracted by a particularly pesky claw you're trying to break into. Obviously since I am surrounded by sneaks and cheats I do not use this method.
My preferred method (which will perhaps appeal to all with ADHD tendencies and sneaky dinner companions) is to painstakingly crack into the old boy piece by piece, savoring each butter-dripping piece fully and then moving on to the next cracking, pulling, sucking, maneuver until I have polished off everything but the head, tomale (repulsive green livery slime in the middle) and "feelers". I save those for my dear husband who doesn't know any better! By the way, he is the primary lobster sneak and cheat I refer to above and the main reason I eat my lobster like the only dog in the pack with a tasty, knobby ham bone. Guard it baby, guard it!
That long ago weekend in Maine instilled a love for seafood that has only grown with each year. We're fortunate enough to get good seafood when we go either north to Maine or south to Louisiana and I typically eat my way through every vacation. In Maine it's crab meat rolls, fish chowder, and lobster. In Louisiana it's big gulf shrimp, craw fish (I'm married okay...sometimes you make concessions no matter how alarming), and crabs. Um, Um! Even here in Kentucky I go for the frozen stuff...it beats the alternative.
All of this talk of shellfish brings me to the point of my story...yes I can be frighteningly long winded sometimes. I'd love for you all to think I am ever so clever, and on the occasional rare day I may be. But I was not the clever one to come up with this beautiful and unique solution for messy seafood. Last weekend my mother forwarded an email she had received from a new friend named Jacqueline and it's one of the most unique solutions for eating lobster, crab, steamers, craw fish or shrimp that I have ever seen. Who would have thought to use colorul, bright, enamal colanders to serve shellfish in? What a great idea. No more food floating in drainage water. Everything stays fresh and clean and the juices drain right into a shallow bowl or plate beneath. I love how she arranged a small bottle of wine, napkin, lemon halves and a lobster fork and a beautiful shell in each one. Even cleanup is easy with this setup. Now my mission is to locate about eight of the bright colanders to have on hand. I am so impressed! Thanks Jacqueline!
1 comments:
Liza,
Love the Blog! I had lost my link and finally was able to find it while cleaning out email. Your writing makes me so happy because I can just hear you saying it while I read it. I miss and love you.
H
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