What is creaking? It was New Year’s Eve and I was going to cook lobster for the first time. The local grocer had a special offer of two for the price of one. You pointed to the ones you wanted and they took them out of the tank. The festivities were a few hours away and I had plenty of time to prepare for a storm.
Tonight’s menu was Surf n Turf
1.wine,
2. wine, oh I already wrote that,
3. Lobster,
4. rib eye,
5. Salad, with the usual ingredients (tomatoes, red onions, shredded cheddar cheese, organic romaine lettuce, and croutons).
6. Packaged risotto. (I had to reduce the time just a bit)
The salad was the first job completed and sat in the fridge. The Pinot was empty when a large pot of boiling water was popping with some onion skins and carrots. The grill was lit and ready to go.
The key to this whole operation is that the risotto, the lobster and the steak are all done at the same time. You always expect this result, but being single doesn’t really matter. No one ever complains to management.
The first step for my master assembly was to throw one of the lobsters into the bubbling water. The next thing is to put the steak on the grill and set the timer for 3 minutes until you have to turn the rib. Open the package of risotto mix, take a sip of wine and wait for the process to take its course.
When I went into the fridge to grab the lobster, something didn’t look right, but I didn’t react fast enough to the warning. One of the baby shoe-sized lobster claw rubber bands was missing. When I went to grab the lobster, it bit my finger like an 80 year old blind poodle. I jumped back and hit my funny bone against the edge of the counter. It smells like electric chills to my fingers. A minute later I wrapped the lobster in a dish towel to get my revenge.
I lifted the lid on my monstrous pot of boiling water and tried to wet this pesky sea vermin. The only downside was his claw that did not release the towel. The red devil’s rear tail was close enough to the water that it splashed a bit in my face. I completely missed the descent and dove into the ground like a swimming pool on a hot day. A minute or two later, after a cold water revival, it was time for the game between Mr. Lobster and myself.
It didn’t move an inch from the counter where it landed. Her eyes were looking directly at me with knuckle noises coming from her claw. She wasn’t listening to any of that. I moved slowly in search of a solid position to quickly grab her back. It is understood! His tail was going crazy, but I had a firm grip and he knew it. This time I lifted the lid, got down to business, and slammed the lid shut. Mission accomplished right? Wrong.
You would have thought he was making Orville Redenbacher’s popcorn from the sound of the claw hitting the inside of the boiling pot. I began to feel worse and worse as the seconds passed with the noise. The idea occurred to me that it might have killed the largest lobster known to humans. Pop. Pop. Pop. The noise didn’t stop. I never took my hand off the lid. A minute passed and the noise began to die down. I opened the lid to give an easy check and Mr. Lobster was hitting me with a sandbag with one more squirt of boiling water for my troubles.
My arm got the worst of it this time and the noise started again. Pop. Pop. Pound the inside of the boiling pot. But clearly this time Mr. Lobster had nothing left in the tank. I sat up and shook my head. This locust was a warrior locust. The Indians 300 years ago would have made him chief. I didn’t dare eat Mr. Lobster. I gave him a Reynolds wrap casket and a proper funeral in a Glad garbage bag.
The food was a flop. The wine passed before the food. I was totally depressed until I went into the fridge to eat the salad because that’s all I had stomach for. I looked down to see the other lobster in the crisper. I removed the bands from his claws and made a bed out of damp paper towels. I gave him lettuce, a saucer of water, and named him Bill. Finally, after two weeks, my roommates told me that Bill the Lobster had to leave the fridge. Lords of the slums.
The bridge next to the house where the canal emptied into the ocean was a perfect place to free Bill. I got as far as I could and let him do his Greg Louganis in the middle of the channel. He sank to the bottom like a steel plate and didn’t budge an inch. But I could see a little movement, so I left it. Now he is with his people.
The next day, I walked across the bridge and couldn’t help but notice that Bill didn’t move an inch. So I went through the mud and gave another push to a deeper part of the channel and let it go again. That night I went to the bridge to see how Bill was doing. The water was gone from the tide and all I heard was the sounds of the canal creatures having the lobster feast I never tried.
To this day every time Lobster is served I always pass the plate except once. I couldn’t resist but the chef overcooked it to hard rubber. I was very quiet at the table thinking about the fight that a lobster had on a New Year’s Eve night. Toot-a-loo my compadres.