THE LOBSTERS AND I

THE LOBSTERS AND I

C 1997 JoJo

My husband was transferred by his Company to Sydney, Nova Scotia for a period of eighteen months. We rented a beautiful home in Marion Bridge, (which is approximately 16 kilometers from Sydney) on the banks of the River Mira. We soon fell in love with both the area and Cape Bretoners, whom we found to be unfailingly warm, helpful and extremely friendly.

In Cape Breton, the lobster season is THE major event of the year. People talk about it for weeks before it happens. Once the season opens, every able-bodied man takes to his boat and steams out to sea.

Our first lobster season in Cape Breton began May 14, 1994.

I was excited over the prospect of frequent lobster dinners at La Casa JoJo! Being so expensive elsewhere in Canada, they’d never fared on the JoJo menu. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d eaten one.

Consequently, May 15 I drove down to Louisbourg and found a fisherman who had just come into port with his day’s catch. He picked out two bruisers from his basket and put them in a plastic bag. I paid him and was about to go off when it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t have the slightest idea of how to cook a lobster, never having done it before. So I asked the fisherman for instructions.

“Well dear, youse (local dialect) gets a big pot and fills ‘er three quarters full with water and puts it on the stove. Then youse adds salt and a quarter cup of sugar. When it comes to the boil, youse tosses in yer lobsters”.

“But how do I kill them?” I asked.

“How do youse kill them? Har har har – Charlie come and listen to this one. This lady wants to know how youse kill lobsters. Harry and Fred, come on over here and tell this nice lady how youse kills lobsters”.

We all had a good laugh and then Charlie said “Why dear, youse just tosses them into the pot upsoid down and it kills them right off. Mind you, they’s gotta go in upsoid down or they tenses up and the meat is tough as leather”. (The lobsters tense up – how inconsiderate of them!)

This information made me turn pale. The idea of tossing a live animal into a pot of boiling water made my stomach heave. Then I started telling my inner, squeamish self that it was no different from what happens to fish; in fact, I told myself, it was probably considerably more humane. My inner self remained unconvinced.

“And what about these rubber bands around their claws?” I asked.

“Oh youse gotta cut them off before youse throws yer lobster into the pot or it’ll taste right rubbery.”

By this point I felt like fainting. “Take them off? Won’t the lobster pinch me if I take them off?”

Grabbing a lobster, Harry said “No no dear, youse jest folds his claws over each other in the front loike this, hold on toight and snips off the rubber bands. Then youse tosses ’em into the pot. It’s easy, don’t youse worry”.

By this time “youse” was past worrying – “youse” was well into the panicking stage!

I took the lobsters home feeling crushed with guilt. With a decided lack of enthusiasm, I hauled out my large pot, filled it with water, added the sugar and salt and brought it to the boil.

Gingerly I approached lobster number one. I folded its claws in front as per Charlie’s instructions and snipped off the rubber bands.

So far so good.

Suddenly the lobster wriggled furiously and I dropped it. It landed on my foot and grabbed my toe with its now unfettered claw. With a yell I shook my foot furiously, sending it flying across the ceramic tiled kitchen floor. It proceeded to scuttle along sideways with our two dogs hot in pursuit. Our female, Shango, was especially keen because she there’s nothing she likes better than chasing cats and squirrels, and here was something new to chase. Although brimming with enthusiasm, she skidded to a halt when the lobster turned and fixed her with a baleful eye, waving its claws in a menacing manner.

As for me, I can honestly say it was the first time in my life that I’d ever had to chase my dinner. I managed to retrieve it without getting pinched a second time and popped it and its brother into the pot.

My husband, who hadn’t gone through the trauma I’d endured, thoroughly enjoyed his but I couldn’t eat mine. I kept wondering if it was the one who’d pinched my toe.

From that day onwards, the lobsters I purchased were from a nearby gas station, and were all pre-cooked in sea water. I simply warmed them up in the microwave and they were delicious.

I like my food to be dead before I cook it.