My newspaper duties once again put me in good company as I headed over to St. Paul’s Episcopal Church on Thursday evening to attend Lobsterfest.
I’d heard of folk festivals, jazz festivals, rock festivals, pop festivals and bluegrass festivals, but never lobster festivals, until I saw the sign outside St. Paul’s a couple of weeks ago.
To me, “Lobsterfest” carried all the mystique of a festival like Woodstock, Bonnaroo or Coachella.
Why would “Lobsterfest” stir up feelings of wonder and amazement, you ask?
Well, before Thursday, I had never eaten lobster before.
After I snapped my photos and took all my notes, I was given a lobster plate for my, uh, hard work?
I was in a hurry to leave town, so I figured I’d eat my lobster in my apartment quickly before I left.
I got to my apartment and removed the lobster from its packaging.
Though the crustacean was long dead, for some reason I was afraid it was going to attack me.
I don’t know if you’ve ever observed a lobster up close, but they’re frightening creatures.
As I held this prehistoric monster in my hand and tried to figure out how I’d eat it, I ate my sides of salad and potatoes.
When I finished, it was time to battle the lobster.
The first thing I did was remove the tail from the abdomen, which released green lobster goo all across my kitchen counter.
I almost decided that lobster wasn’t for me right then and there but, after I cleaned up the mysterious liquid that flowed freely from the lobster’s cavity, I decided to press onward.
I knew there was meat in the tail but I wasn’t quite sure how to access it.
What comes next may be pure horror to lobster connoisseurs, but I used a pair of scissors to cut down the bottom of the tail and expose the meat inside.
After my brief arts and crafts project, I was able to enjoy the tail of the lobster.
It was delicious.
With my newfound lust for lobster, I pondered how I’d get to the meat within the claws – the humble set of kitchen implements I arrived in Selma with didn’t include one of those silver claw-cracker devices.
So naturally, I turned back to the scissors.
The tips of the crustaceans claws were already off, leaving a hole I could put my scissors in, and I simply cut through the lobster shell like a kindergartener through construction paper and, pretty soon, I had two claws-worth of lobster meat to enjoy.
I liked it better than the tail.
So thank you, to the good people of St. Paul’s, for supplying me with my fist taste of lobster – it was delicious and I hope you’ll have me back next year.
And I promise to leave my scissors in the kitchen drawer.