R.I.P. Grandpa Jim

Just a quick post to honor my Grandpa Jim who passed away yesterday. I would like to thank him for making perfect fried egg sandwiches. He had simple tastes and a big heart. I will miss him like crazy.

The Late-Night Lobster: Dining In vs Eating Out

My lovely and amazing friend Bex returned to Los Angeles from Cape Cod late last night bearing a delightful package containing two feisty crustaceans. The Boyfriend and I had been talking about having a lobster dinner for awhile but as we were both out-of-work for most of Fall and Winter it just wasn't financially feasible. Fast forward to spring: Lo and behold we have both secured employment! We made preparations to find a lobster dinner at a restaurant somewhere in Santa Monica to celebrate our renewed solvency. Unfortunately, for all the seafood restaurants along the coast in SoCal most are not big on whole, live lobster so our pickings were slim. My theory is that people are happier with a previously frozen lobster tail next to their steak because it's less messy than cracking a whole crustacean. Or maybe it's just the recession minimizing demand.

Bex reminded me that lobster was cheap and plentiful in her native New England and that she was about to embark on a week-long trip home. Would I like her to bring a few back for me? Um... Yes!

The Boyfriend and I decided to do a compare and contrast. Lobster In vs Lobster Out. We settled on the appropriately named The Lobster on the Santa Monica Pier for our Lobster Out. We shared a $75 3lb grilled lobster. They kindly split the behemoth in two for us so we could each have our own plate with a claw and half a tail. While it was nice to have a glass of chilled Sancerre while I tore in to my lobster it all felt a bit overblown. The lobster meat itself was tasty if a bit dry, a hint of smokiness from the grill playing off the subtly seasoned butter it had been brushed with. But here we were in the midst of a restaurant I would describe as California Elegant (business casual anyone?) and we were covered in butter and lobster juice. Something just didn't feel quite right as I tried to delicately crack my one lobster claw while trying to avoid elbowing the woman in a silk blouse crammed in next to me who was dining on halibut with sauteed pea shoots.

It was a far cry from the lobster experience I had the summer of 1988 in Newport, Rhode Island. My Aunt Kitty took my Mom and I down to a waterfront lobster shack where you picked your just-caught lobster from the holding tank and it was quickly boiled for you and unceremoniously dumped on a tarp covered picnic table along with some corn and potatoes. There everyone wore a bib and no one drank white wine. You were encouraged to suck out every last morsel from the small legs and to really put some elbow grease into your meal. It was a casual family affair that lasted all afternoon.

Hoping to re-live my eight year-old self's vision of lobster happiness I was thrilled when Bex arrived on our doorstep at 10:30 pm with two 1.5lb live lobsters straight from New England that cost a modest $35. I had the salted water boiling with a bay leaf and half a lemon thrown in. Bruce the cat greeted our late-night lobsters with a curiosity and eagerness that belied his desire to have one to himself after they were cooked. After 15 minutes at a brisk boil The Boyfriend and I covered the table in brown paper bags from the market and gave in to our lobster lust. We ate with abandon as the cat looked on, pawing at us in the hopes that we would toss a morsel his way. With some lemon wedges and clarified butter on the side, sitting at our own table, the Lobster In won the day.