How Not to cook a Lobster.
The Following is an Excerpt from "Zug.com, the worlds only comedy website." by John Hargrave. I warn you now, it's not very nice to lobsters. So:
WARNING TO ALL VEGANS, ENVIROMENTALISTS, ANIMAL-LOVERS, HIPPIES, AND SHELLFISH OF ALL SPECIES.
THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS GRAPHIC -- ALBEIT FUNNY -- STATEMENTS ABOUT THE SLOW PAINFUL DEATHS OF
SEVERAL TASTY CRUSTACEANS, NAMELY LOBSTERS. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THAT. EAT POOP AND DIE.
My wife and I recently had some guests come to visit: her brother, Chris, and his friend Brian. Chris and Brian are 17, and made the full-day drive from Ohio to Boston by themselves, which was itself a feat.
One night we came home from work, and the boys stated that since they were in Boston, they wanted to eat lobster. The most popular seafood chain in Boston, Legal Seafoods, was the obvious choice, but I wasn't going to take them there without first securing heavy financing from a local bank. We considered driving to Maine, which is about an hour away, but it was getting late and we were tired.
"I've got an idea," announced Jade, my lovely wife. "Let's buy some lobsters at the store, and we'll cook them here."
They hemmed and hawed about this idea, until I pointed out we would buy live lobsters, which meant that we would have to kill them. This brightened them up considerably. (Death plays very well with the teenager set.)
We went out to Bread & Circus and bought four lobsters (total price: $53.00) and two pounds of mussels. The seafood clerk put them in a Tupperware-like box, and poked air holes in the top. On the ride back home, the teenagers taunted the poor lobsters by poking them through the holes.
Once home, I confessed that though I had eaten plenty of lobsters, I had never actually cooked one. I pulled out my Silver Palate New Basics Cookbook to check on cooking times. There I found this helpful tip:
If you are planning to broil the lobster, you will want to kill it first. A reasonably humane way to do this is to grasp it by the tail to steady it, and then jab the tip of a large sharp knife between the eyes -- this will kill it instantly.
For some reason, this sounded reasonable to me. I mean, it was spoken by The Silver Palate women! They know everything!
We prepared the rest of the meal, set pots of water boiling atop the stove, and awaited the crucial moment. When it finally came, I shouted, "All right! Who's going to put these lobsters out of their misery?"
Jade, who is a vegetarian, refused to do the deed. I couldn't do it, because it's against my religion (I'm a member of the Church of the Tremendous Sissies). Chris hadn't smoked a cigarette in a while, so he was sulking moodily in the living room. Thus, it was Brian who finally accepted the role of shellfish executioner.
"Choose your weapon!" I shouted, gesturing theatrically toward our knife rack, which contained a dizzying assortment of Henckels hand-crafted German knives. Brian chose the largest, a 12" chef's knife which is three inches wide and weighs about six pounds.
We grabbed a lobster from its plastic prison and placed it atop the cutting board. "Now, grab the lobster by the tail to steady it," I instructed him. He grabbed it by its body. "The tail, Brian! The tail!" I was the worst person to be leading this debacle, but there I was shouting orders.
"Now place the tip of the knife between the eyes." Brian did this. "Now push!" He pushed down, but the shell, as we lobster lovers know, was quite strong.
Jade covered her eyes. "Oh, I can't watch!"
"Push, Brian!" I raised my voice. "You can do it!"
Sweat began to break out on his brow. You could see the muscles in his arm. The lobster began to wriggle, its antennae feeling about.
"PUSH!" I yelled. "HARDER!"
Brian lunged down, and the knife cut through the poor creature's head. Immediately, red fluid oozed wetly onto the cutting board, spilling onto the kitchen counter.
"AAAAHH!" yelled Jade. "What's happening?!"
Brain juice was spurting out of the crustacean's head, frothing over its beady black eyes. And did this little wonder of God die instantly? To the contrary, it was twitching spasmodically, held in place only by the 11" Henckels knife still lodged firmly inside its noggin. The creature was flopping around like it had a plane to catch.
By this point, everyone was yelling. "OH! OH! THIS IS HORRIBLE!" I yelled, awakening the ghost of Sam Kinison. Brian was laughing out of sheer fright, afraid that if he removed the knife, the lobster might attack him. Jade was in the other room, phoning the police.
"What do I do?" Brian yelled over the racket. "This thing's not dying!"
"PUSH IT IN HARDER!" I commanded him. "ALL THE WAY!"
He shoved in the weapon to the hilt, and another cup of brain goo seeped onto the floor. The lobster continued to thrash about. I felt like I was watching the electrocution scene in "Faces of Death." Slowly, our hard-shelled friend grew still, and Brian removed the knife.
I wiped up the counter with a paper towel. "Only three more to go," I reassured him.
We decided to kill the rest of the lobsters the old-fashioned way, by tossing them into boiling water and listening to them scream. Actually, they didn't scream, but they did thrash about a bit upon dropping into the pot, which was almost as scary.
Cooking the murdered lobster turned out to be tricky, since the hole in its head was still draining brain gelatin, which coagulated into this kind of oatmeal-paste on the top of the water.
At any rate, the lobsters were delicious, and Jade was kind enough to take the sacrificial one. Though a vegetarian, Jade does eat fish.
At least, she used to.
END POST.
WARNING TO ALL VEGANS, ENVIROMENTALISTS, ANIMAL-LOVERS, HIPPIES, AND SHELLFISH OF ALL SPECIES.
THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS GRAPHIC -- ALBEIT FUNNY -- STATEMENTS ABOUT THE SLOW PAINFUL DEATHS OF
SEVERAL TASTY CRUSTACEANS, NAMELY LOBSTERS. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THAT. EAT POOP AND DIE.
My wife and I recently had some guests come to visit: her brother, Chris, and his friend Brian. Chris and Brian are 17, and made the full-day drive from Ohio to Boston by themselves, which was itself a feat.
One night we came home from work, and the boys stated that since they were in Boston, they wanted to eat lobster. The most popular seafood chain in Boston, Legal Seafoods, was the obvious choice, but I wasn't going to take them there without first securing heavy financing from a local bank. We considered driving to Maine, which is about an hour away, but it was getting late and we were tired.
"I've got an idea," announced Jade, my lovely wife. "Let's buy some lobsters at the store, and we'll cook them here."
They hemmed and hawed about this idea, until I pointed out we would buy live lobsters, which meant that we would have to kill them. This brightened them up considerably. (Death plays very well with the teenager set.)
We went out to Bread & Circus and bought four lobsters (total price: $53.00) and two pounds of mussels. The seafood clerk put them in a Tupperware-like box, and poked air holes in the top. On the ride back home, the teenagers taunted the poor lobsters by poking them through the holes.
Once home, I confessed that though I had eaten plenty of lobsters, I had never actually cooked one. I pulled out my Silver Palate New Basics Cookbook to check on cooking times. There I found this helpful tip:
If you are planning to broil the lobster, you will want to kill it first. A reasonably humane way to do this is to grasp it by the tail to steady it, and then jab the tip of a large sharp knife between the eyes -- this will kill it instantly.
For some reason, this sounded reasonable to me. I mean, it was spoken by The Silver Palate women! They know everything!
We prepared the rest of the meal, set pots of water boiling atop the stove, and awaited the crucial moment. When it finally came, I shouted, "All right! Who's going to put these lobsters out of their misery?"
Jade, who is a vegetarian, refused to do the deed. I couldn't do it, because it's against my religion (I'm a member of the Church of the Tremendous Sissies). Chris hadn't smoked a cigarette in a while, so he was sulking moodily in the living room. Thus, it was Brian who finally accepted the role of shellfish executioner.
"Choose your weapon!" I shouted, gesturing theatrically toward our knife rack, which contained a dizzying assortment of Henckels hand-crafted German knives. Brian chose the largest, a 12" chef's knife which is three inches wide and weighs about six pounds.
We grabbed a lobster from its plastic prison and placed it atop the cutting board. "Now, grab the lobster by the tail to steady it," I instructed him. He grabbed it by its body. "The tail, Brian! The tail!" I was the worst person to be leading this debacle, but there I was shouting orders.
"Now place the tip of the knife between the eyes." Brian did this. "Now push!" He pushed down, but the shell, as we lobster lovers know, was quite strong.
Jade covered her eyes. "Oh, I can't watch!"
"Push, Brian!" I raised my voice. "You can do it!"
Sweat began to break out on his brow. You could see the muscles in his arm. The lobster began to wriggle, its antennae feeling about.
"PUSH!" I yelled. "HARDER!"
Brian lunged down, and the knife cut through the poor creature's head. Immediately, red fluid oozed wetly onto the cutting board, spilling onto the kitchen counter.
"AAAAHH!" yelled Jade. "What's happening?!"
Brain juice was spurting out of the crustacean's head, frothing over its beady black eyes. And did this little wonder of God die instantly? To the contrary, it was twitching spasmodically, held in place only by the 11" Henckels knife still lodged firmly inside its noggin. The creature was flopping around like it had a plane to catch.
By this point, everyone was yelling. "OH! OH! THIS IS HORRIBLE!" I yelled, awakening the ghost of Sam Kinison. Brian was laughing out of sheer fright, afraid that if he removed the knife, the lobster might attack him. Jade was in the other room, phoning the police.
"What do I do?" Brian yelled over the racket. "This thing's not dying!"
"PUSH IT IN HARDER!" I commanded him. "ALL THE WAY!"
He shoved in the weapon to the hilt, and another cup of brain goo seeped onto the floor. The lobster continued to thrash about. I felt like I was watching the electrocution scene in "Faces of Death." Slowly, our hard-shelled friend grew still, and Brian removed the knife.
I wiped up the counter with a paper towel. "Only three more to go," I reassured him.
We decided to kill the rest of the lobsters the old-fashioned way, by tossing them into boiling water and listening to them scream. Actually, they didn't scream, but they did thrash about a bit upon dropping into the pot, which was almost as scary.
Cooking the murdered lobster turned out to be tricky, since the hole in its head was still draining brain gelatin, which coagulated into this kind of oatmeal-paste on the top of the water.
At any rate, the lobsters were delicious, and Jade was kind enough to take the sacrificial one. Though a vegetarian, Jade does eat fish.
At least, she used to.
END POST.