Confusion, evidently. Maine’s down and east of nowhere. Except Canada, but no one cares about Canada, right? 
I will kill lobsters. For a price.
(Price= One dead lobster lightly boiled, with a cup of hot drawn butter…drooooool)
I sent my brother’s family a box of Maine lobsters for Christmas. They had quite a time figuring out who would kill the tasty little buggers.
A week later my brother called and asked “We have some leftover lobster meat – how long will it keep?”
Sorry, I can’t answer that with any knowledge drawn from long years of experience. “Leftover lobster meat” is a phrase that doesn’t occur on a daily basis for me.
We call our Maine relatives “Mainiacs.” But not to their faces. Well, at least not often.
Knife between the eyes, if aimed properly (ie, no squirming and only stabbing the creature somewhere), is a faster and quicker alternative to boiling them. I remember one Julia Child show where she wrapped a lobster in parchment paper and tossed it in the microwave; people freaked out I gather. [sarcasm]Yeah, like that’s sooo much worse than being boiled to death[/sarcasm]
I’m a vegetarian personally, but lobster really has to be very fresh to be any good.
Waitaminute! I thought I read somewhere that lobsters were the genetic cousins of spiders.
Spiders, cockroaches, whatever. The keyword is “bug”
And, pray tell, what is this “extra lobster meat” of which you speak? I have never heard of such a thing.
My sister (er, maybe I should say my seester) thanks all for their comments. Perhaps now she’ll finally register and I’ll have brought yet another over to the dark side, Bwahahahaha…
I should also point out that I’m not sure from where all this squeamishness emanates, since I have with mine own eyes seen her methodically chew her way through half the king crab in Alaska…
Oops, I may be earning a smack there. Good thing I’m 1200 miles away.
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*Originally posted by Silentgoldfish *
Fortunately I’ve always had others to do my lobster and crab killing for me – my mum gets given an esky of lobsters (around 50) every time she does work on an island in the South Pacific so although we’ve usually got a freezer full of them I’ve never actually had to kill one!
[QUOTE]
Hey, that must be nice! What island is it that your mom works at? I love anything that has to do with the South Pacific Islands and the surrounding area.
They scream when they hit the boiling water, ya know. Put that in the mental picture frame.
The buck don’t even slow down here.
You are kidding, right?
Eeeeeewwww.
You mean they don’t scream when you cook them? But that’s half the fun of cooking lobsters!
send some of them this way if you don’t want to kill them, I will find them a nice home… (patting belly)
I relate to your sister. My mom’s company gave her three lobsters once. I was about eight years old. I like animals–all of 'em, from kitties to puppies to roly-polies. They’re cute. I liked just about every animal when I was eight.
So, of course, I named the fucking lobsters. :eek:
Ooooh, boy, was I pissed off when my dad just threw 'em into the pot. I did NOT know that making lobster involved boiling the poor things alive (I was EIGHT! I’m not even sure I knew that they killed the cows to make hamburger; I think I thought they died a natural death).
Didn’t eat lobster that night. I’ve never eaten lobster. In memory of Pinchers, Zed, and Billy.
“Zed? Zed’s dead, baby.”
I’m assuming they just wait for the pot to boil and then throw the chicken in.
Some Fun Sites About Lobsters:
And if you want to order lobsters for a friend, visit LobsterGram. You’ll notice on that site that the smart thing to do is to send the recipient a gift card which allows them to pick a date for the lobsters to be delivered, and indeed allows the recipient to pick tender, delicious STEAKS if they’re not really into KNIFING LIVE ANIMALS IN THE EYE.
True story: my mom is originally from Maine, and one day many years ago my granddad was driving along and spotted a rooster about to cross the road, so he stopped to let it go. A car coming the other way nailed it, sending the bloody carcass up onto my granddad’s windshield.
This would seem to indicate that some people from Maine, at least, apparently have no more reservation about murdering beady-eyed birdies than they do with waterbugs. I guess this touches on the other age-old question as well, doesn’t it?
No jokes please about whether my grandparents, being from Maine, ate the rooster. Everyone knows roosters are too tough to eat.
~ Randi