From the freezer, to the oven, to the table. |
N and I met when I was living in Paris. She loves - no! - she fully appreciates food. She eats with her heart and all her senses. Seeing her relish her meal makes it a huge joy and great honour for me to share it with her.
I stepped into their newly completed kitchen and was greeted by brand new cabinets. N & A had done most of the renovations themselves, not an uncommon thing to do in France where labour is expensive. As A was explaining the design philosophy and safety features of the kitchen, we were distracted by rustling of a plastic bag in the sink. What was it?
Something was hiding at the sink |
There was a long discussion on how to actually kill them. I gave the theoretical answer but could not do it in reality. Those claws look menacing. N and I danced around the sink skittishly, trying to muster enough courage to pick one up. *Defeat*
But I wanted to eat my lobster!! Couldn't they just die somehow?
A took charge immediately. The lobsters went back into the fridge - it would make them sleepy - and then straight into a pot of boiling water. They turned bright red immediately. We put the safely dead lobsters in the oven to continue cooking. Halved and with some melted butter drizzled over them, those lobsters were the best that I had ever tasted.
Go on, try saying "no"... |
Honestly, I had always thought that lobsters were overhyped and just plain snooty. But that night, together with N & A, eating with our fingers and cracking the claws with whatever tools that we could find lying around (they were doing the renovations in their home, after all), I realised that I was wrong. They taste exquisite!
Lobsters, best served with melted butter and a huge dose of friendship.
PS. We had some luscious oysters as starters - largely forgotten in the excitement of the lobsters. |
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