Why, was it glowing radioactive green?
I mean, I’m not Chinese and I’m feeling sympathy pains. Of course, that big, they’d be kind of tough but… the bragging rights. The photographic evidence…!
Since my better half is Chinese, I’m often drafted into my mother-in-law’s restaurant kitchen. I must have “prepped” millions of the little buggers. Caught, gutted and prepped live fish too. It’s never bothered me. I’ve been known to go to state fairs and exclaim what great cuts of meat all of the pretty animals would make, much to the disgust of those with me. My wife says I must have been Chinese in another life 
Strangely enough, I don’t like shellfish. It’s the only group of food that I just don’t eat at all. I don’t know what it is, but there is some very slight, fishy aftertaste in every shellfish I’ve eaten, no matter how fresh.
Now we try you on shucking oysters.
No, next is boiling a lobster. shudder
I recently cooked my my first live lobsters, and even though I’m a hardened cook, it gave me the willies a little. Just make sure the pot is big enough - I bought rather large lobsters, and their “clawspan” was wide enough that they could spread-eagle themselves and effectively delay their fatal dunk. Mr. Pug had to compress their claws inward while I dropped them in. It was a tight fit! But boy, were they good.
HA! Amateur! When you catch and cook a Great White Shark, let me know! 
Oh, like I’d even get the lobster into the pot. Chinese takeout, anyone? 
:eek:
That’s what my boyfriend is for, making sure we have the right tools for the job.
I’ve got a friend who talks to it first. “You’ve been living here and not paying any rent. Time for you to pay up.” Chop!
I like salt-and-pepper shrimp. Since they are cooked whole and the frying process does a nice job on the chitin, I eat the whole thing – starting with the head. My co-workers (at least, the non-Vietnamese ones) thought it was disgusting; but salt-and-pepper shrimp is too good to waste any of it.
When I was a kid I boiled lobsters my mom and her boyfriend brought back from Baja.
I kill and clean crabs before I cook them. Though it’s unlikely they have any significant amounts of toxins in them (the toxins would be in the viscera, and especially the gills and ‘crab butter’, as it’s called), it’s safer that way. Besides, you can get more of them in the pot. The pot that I use is only about a gallon, and I can get two dungeness crabs in it if I only cook the halves.
Anyone in the L. A. area who now has a craving for shrimp after reading this thread should definitely check out Killer Shrimp. They only serve shrimp and it is delicious. When I worked in Marina Del Rey I ate there weekly.
I do it all the time. I’ve got one of those enourmous enamelled clambake pots that barely fits on the stove. It’s perfect.
Just get a good rolling boil going and chuck 'em in there. You might try steaming too.
Exgineer, I ain’t doin’ it alone. He’s going to do it, it’ll be enough if I can stay in the same room without crying.
And don’t get me wrong, I love lobster too.
Shucking oysters is not yucky, just dangerous. The only time I did a lot was preparing for a party at my adviser’s house, and I escape without severing any fingers or major bleeding, but just barely. Sharp instrument, lots of wet, slippery shell, small opening, and close by fingers adds up to trouble.
Oh yeah, that’s an art to practice carefully. On new years I decided to be helpful and shuck some oysters for my host. I managed to shuck zero oysters, stick the shucking knife into my hand and gash myself on the shell all in one fell swoop. But I kept the blood off the yummies, and was promptly relieved of all shucking duties for the evening, so it worked out OK for me. Well, if you don’t count the lacerations and blood loss.
In Belgium sometimes at pubs or restaurants as an appetizer they’ll bring you a little dish of these tiny little. . . shrimp? (yes, strange analogue for pretzels and peanuts) Anyway, these have ALL their gear left on-- antennae, legs, etc. So I’m drinking my beer at a cafe and pick one up and start pulling off limbs, and they just keep coming, and they are endless. I wind up with this mangled bit of meat and little legs and attennae and bits of chitin or shell stuck all over my fingers. Nice gentleman at the next table smiles indulgently and leans over and shows me how to pick one up, bend its body backwards so that the back-shell goes “crack,” and then pull all the external stuff off at once in 2 pieces. What a great trick! Crazy Belgians.
hehehe,
reminds me of the proper way to eat crawfish. It takes a special touch to do it efficiently. I can’t really describe it now, but my method is that of breaking off the tail and then taking it and compressing it against my teeth. yes strange, but you push the end of the tail shell (with the meat hanging out) against your incisors. Do this while you pinch the end of the tail. This will break the first couple of sections of the tail allowing you to get a better hold of the meat. Pinch that tail and pull it off! It goes a lot quicker than it appears
But to the OP. You got upset by peeling shrimp? The most traumatic cooking-related thing for me was cutting a chicken. I mean it is really life like. It really feels like a corpse when you are cutting on it, and I don’t know how everyone else does it, but I have to break the joints to cut the drumsticks, etc. But its probably as close as I’ll get to turning a dead animal into food. It still creeps me out though…
DING DING DING! Yes, it was the Airds. (Not many other places in Port Appin, except for that little place by the loch and ferry.) And yes, that Castle Stalker was the Holy Grail castle at the end. Nobody, I mean nobody, told me that when I lived there. You would think someone would’ve mentioned it. One days I was watching The Holy Grail again and at the final scene, I leapt out of the couch and said “Wait a sec! That’s Loch Linnhe! That’s Castle Stalker! No way!” I paused the movie, found my album of pictures, and, sure enough, it’s Castle Stalker.
Yeah, the Airds Hotel had fabulous food, and were proud of their one Michelin star (which is a great honor.) One of the fun things about being a kitchen porter was picking at some of the extras that would inevetibly end up in the kitchen. I’ve eaten stuff that I couldn’t afford otherwise. Plus, on my last day, I got to accompany a beautiful girl from Cornwall to a full Airds Hotel dinner. That experience was my first taste of gourmet food, and my time there taught me a lot about cooking and whisky. It’s owned by a different family now (the former owners, the Allens, own a different place now), so I don’t know whether its stellar reputation lives on.
Not long after we moved from Lafayette Louisiana to New Jersey, we heard about a special Cajun buffet at the Vista hotel by the World Trade Center, put on by Paul Prudhomme. We zipped over there. They had very nice boiled crawfish out. We saw my fellow New Yorkers, untrained in the ways of crawfish, would take two or three, while we took as many as our plates could hold. We wound up teaching people at the tables around us how to peel them.
We booked a room for the night - not because we drank too much, but because we couldn’t fit in the car afterwards. 
Did you kill the chicken yourself? Because that totally doesn’t sound icky to me. We get chickens from Chinatown when we go down that they’re running around, and suddenly the guy grabs it and CHOP! And we bring back this chicken with feet and head still attached. And that doesn’t bother me.
You know what I can’t eat? Clams. Clams are icky. Especially after dissecting them in zoology… I could never. Now that I know what all the little squicky parts are.
Ugh. Clams.
They’re going to kick me out of Louisiana soon if I don’t get this crawfish-peeling thing down. Wouldn’t be so bad except I haven’t yet found out what direction I want to be kicked in. This spring I may have to give in and learn to peel the creepy yet delicious little morsels.