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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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The politics of food

To celebrate our being outbid on the condo, we ate lobster for dinner.

They were on sale at the supermarket: $5.99/lb for lobsters ranging from 1 to 1 1/4 lbs.

Since I didnít want to reenact that scene from Annie Hall, we opted to have them steamed before we brought them home. Terence was a little bit disappointed, I think. He wanted to take off their handcuffs (ďto give Ďem a fighting chance!Ē), put them in a pot and listen to them scream.

Boys.

While standing at the lobster counter, some Connecticut natives/lifers told us that lobsters donít scream. What you think are screams is actually steam escaping from the shells. That makes me feel better?

The lobster was a lot tastier than the lobster we had at a nearby restaurant (where it was served with a salad and a dry baked potato.)

I must confess, though, that Iím not sold on the steamed lobster. I just donít think steaming renders the best texture. While Iím at it, I should just add insult to New England injury and state that lobster is not ALL THAT. Iíll take Dungeness crab any dayóbetter flavor, better texture.

I know, I know: apples and oranges.

What I especially object to is this American way of eating lobster. Itís sort of the way Americans eat steak, as well. One big slab of something on a plate with no room for anything else. Side dishes are satellites to the meat/seafood event. It must be the French in me that finds eating this way barbaric. Why wouldnít you want everything on the plate to be working together? Shouldnít Americans be all about the Democratic plate of food, where everything touches and e pluribus unum and all that? This eating things from separate plates seems like one disjointed and isolationist meal philosophy.

Food for thought.

It is now surgery minus one, and I am on an all clear liquid/food diet today. Itís no wonder Iíve got food on the brain.

9:17 a.m. - 2004-08-04

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