They’re crustaceans, but that’s only a little bit removed from spiders and insects. They’re all arthropods.
How far removed from spiders and insects? :eek:
I’m not sure I needed to know that little tidbit.
I thought they tended to hang around sewage processing plants and that kind of thing, plus they’re at least partially scavengers, eating decaying flesh and whatever else they can find. Anyway, with that in mind I just call them “cockroaches of the sea” without much of a thought.
That’s pretty accurate. It’s odd to think that Maine lobsters are considered such a delicacy. In the 18th and early 19th centuries, lobstah was plentiful in the waters off the coast of Maine, so plentiful in fact that it was the staple of the poor Down Easter who could not afford “better” sources of protein to supplement their diets. Lobster was served to prisoners in such quantities the Govt. of Massachusetts (back when Maine was still its province) declaired it was “cruel and unusual punishment” to feed them such vile fare more than twice a week.
Every lobster I’ve ever butchered has answered to the name of “Sparky,” for some reason.
Make sure Mary Tyler Moore is not on the guest list.
Far enough that they are tasty treats. Don’t think about it anymore.
I worked on a lobster boat in Maine when I was a teenager. All the fishermen called them “bugs”, so I picked up the habit too.
They eat some pretty nasty stuff. The first time I ever had to ladle lobster bait I almost puked.
There’s an old joke about the lobster fisherman whose partner went overboard in a squall. They never found his body. A few weeks later, the fisherman was out on the water with someone else and they pulled into the area where his partner had drowned.
“Isn’t this where Amos drowned?”
“Yup.”
“Did we come out here to lay a wreath?”
“Nope. Uncommon good lobsterin’ heah lately.”
Cheesy Stunt,
Cheesy Stunt,
Wish I’d thought of it,
Wish I’d thought of it.
Obligaory Simpsons Quote:
Score: Lobsters 0, pugluvr family 2
I picked out two three-pounders and kept them under a damp towel in the fridge all day. It was kind of freaky to reach into the fridge for a beer and hear them clicking and bubbling in there, and knowing that their hours were numbered.
At T-minus 60 minutes to dinner, I put on my two biggest stockpots full of salted water and let them come to a rolling boil. I enlisted the aid of Mr. Pug to fetch out the victims and carry them to the pots; they made things difficult by spreading their clawed “arms” wide so that they wouldn’t fit into the pots. How smart are these things, anyway?
Well, with a lot of poking and prodding, we got them beneath the water and clapped on the pot lids. Note: the Calphalon brand pot came back to a boil very quickly, and the cheaper other pot took a good ten minutes to do so. Each lobster was cooked exactly 20 minutes, drained, tail removed, and claws cracked.
They were served simply, with melted butter, lemon wedges, cole slaw and cold Sam Adams beer. That was the best New Year’s eve feast I ever had. For some reason, I’ve never eaten much lobster. Perhaps its expense, or the fact that I’m a Dungeness crab freak has something to do with it. Well, the fact I can get it at a good price now and I’ve learned how to get them into the boiling pot will change all that. Thanks for your advice, Dopers.
Huh? Lobsters bubble?
(Forgive my ignorance, but I have never cooked lobster at home or anywhere else. I’ve only seen them prodding each other in the tanks at the grocery store. What do they do, froth at the mouth and exoskeleton?)
Well, yes, one was actually yarking up bubbles and foam by the time she was ready to take the plunge. I rinsed her off a bit, because it was gross. I say “her” because she was loaded with coral-colored roe, as we found during dismemberment.