Lobster is one of those indulgences that never loses steam with me. I will always remember Christmas Eve dinners as a child where the standard holiday fare was steak and crustacean. Normally my dad would buy the tails and cook them up as they were, but one year he decided to try and boil whole live lobsters. Being the animal lover that I was, I found this a bit perturbing that we were going to kill a living creature for our dinner just a short time later. I couldn’t bear to watch the moment my friend became my meal. Of course, once he transformed into that familiar red shell with the rich white meat nestled inside, all was forgotten and dinner resumed.
Fast forward about 20 years and here I sit again with a live lobster, chilling on my kitchen island, claws rubber banded, looking at me as though he thinks that if he can just bat his eyes a bit longer, I’ll relent and make a drive to the beach for a movie inspired freedom release instead of a three step walk to my pot rack. I eye him carefully, thinking about what I’m about to attempt and hoping it won’t be as difficult as it feels. I think about the lobster bisque reward at the end and it keeps me moving forward.
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