Cape Karen
This has been the hottest summer in four decades here - we're now on our 50th day of +90º temperatures in the Great Smoggy Mountains. It was 104º yesterday, west of us in Memphis, TN. I'm forgetting what it feels like to even go outdoors. When I've had to go out, it's been like stepping into a stifling, hot sauna. Thank goodness for central air, and for air conditioned cars and shops!
Where the heat has kept me from venturing outdoors, my indoor activities have continued. I've now painted just about every surface I can put a paint brush to. The house might be sparkling with newness and orderliness, but I'm getting really claustraphobic; and now I'm tired. It's time for me to take another drive east.
My friend, Susan, who lives on the Cape, lost her husband, Andy, on July 19th. The prostate cancer won the long, excrutiating battle. (Dammit!) Then, last week, a friend of Franko's - his former golfing buddy, Randy - died unexpectedly. Well, not entirely unexpectedly - he did have a long history of alcoholism, and we knew that it would one day take his life, but it was unsettling to hear that he had died so young. He died in a motel room, miles from his home in Florida; he had just started a new job in Georgia, and his lifeless body was found there by a maid. That in itself is tragic. It's just no way to go.
So, hearing all this, I think it's time for me to get out of Dodge, in my new Dodge, and to make the most of whatever time I have left!
Hopefully, in just a few weeks, I'll be saddling-up for another 2-day ride to Cape Cod. I'll take the beautiful, scenic drive along the Blue Ridge Parkway, go through upper New York State, and then travel down into New England. I'll drive for about eight hours, stop overnight in Connecticut, and then go through Rhode Island and down to the Cape.
I'm so fortunate to have a beautiful house to stay in once I get there - thanks to my friend, Susan, and the generosity of her friend, Kathleen. Kathy lives and works in Paris, France, and she invites her friends and family to stay at her Cape house when she's away. As a friend of a friend, I qualify... and it's such an incredible gift! (Rentals on the Cape, especially during summer and fall months, are outrageously high-priced. I couldn't afford to go if I had to also spend a few thousand dollars in rent.)
At Kathy's house I'll have an ocean view and a private beach to walk. I'll get to spend some quality time just being "at home." It will allow me to visit my friends, and to put these smoggy mountains far behind me, for two weeks of utter relaxation. This year, I've earned it....
Kathy won't take any rent money, or allow anyone to give her gifts to thank her, because she's satisfied with all that she already has. (She's a successful stockbroker, working in the gold-trading market, and obviously 'well-heeled.') She just appreciates knowing that someone is always at the house when she can't be there. That's frustrating to me, because I feel as if I should give her something to thank her... but, she won't hear of it. So, I'm waiting to hear from Susan about which dates are open at Kathy's house... and soon, if there's an opening, I'll be off once again to visit my beloved Cape Cod.
Reunions with my friends of the heart, refreshing ocean breezes, chilly star-filled nights, fresh local seafood... walking down memory lane; all my blessings to count... and something to look forward to... besides just awaiting the end of this ridiculous heat-wave.
I'm craving . . . the North American lobster, a mysterious creature that smells with its antennae, tastes with its feet, hears with its legs, has teeth in its stomach, and has remained virtually unchanged for 100 million years.
It feels like 100 million years since I've enjoyed a fresh, Maine boiled lobster. When I went to the Cape last year, I did have a couple of lobster salad rolls and a baked stuffed lobster - I even had some littleneck clams, dug fresh from the Cape Cod clam beds - but I never did get to have my favorite dish... a boiled lobster dinner.
As the heat index today soars to 105 degrees, with humidity so thick that just breathing is a chore, and as exhaust fumes, from the thousands of cars on our Parkway, are spewing unhealthy ground ozone all over this valley - I really want to go home, breathe some nice ocean air and eat fresh New England seafood again. This is the time of year when being homesick hits its peak for me.
Why am I sitting here, craving lobster, littleneck clams, fresh salt air and ocean breezes, when they're only two days away by car? Because I've yet to receive my new license plates and tags, so my newly purchased car, that I bought for just such travels, is still uninsured. But my cravings don't know that, and they aren't happy to wait. They want it all... right now!
Some might ask, "Why would anyone crave eating a creature that has teeth in its stomach and two strong front claws that could break a finger in two?" Well, unless you've been raised in New England, or have gone there and experienced the incredible taste of this ancient crustateon's sweet meat, dipped in melted butter, you probably can't understand such a craving.
There are lobsters in the south, and all over the world, but they just aren't the same as Homarus Americanus. I tried eating a lobster from the Gulf of Mexico when I was in Cancun, years ago, and it smelled and tasted like rotten fish. I even tried purchasing a small lobster here, from a grocery store fish tank; it not only looked like a small, black beetle, it tasted even worse. I've been to The Red Lobster restaurant, hoping to find that what they advertise as "fresh Maine lobster tail" is true. Oh, it's a Maine lobster tail alright, but it sure isn't fresh. "Sawdust" came close to what the long-frozen, white meat looked like. I didn't even bother to taste it... I just wanted to cry.
There's a real art to eating a boiled lobster, too. One has to learn how; the younger, the better. (If you've ever seen grown adults trying to eat a lobster for the first time at a restaurant, with those silly plastic bibs placed over their shirts, then you'll know what I'm talking about.) Other than shucking clams, mussels, scallops and oysters, I can't think of another food that we have to actually learn how to 'get-at' in order to eat it.
Just in case you plan to eat a boiled lobster dinner for the very first time - and you don't want to embarrass yourself and make an ungodly mess all over a table in public - here's how to do it like a pro... New England style:
First you separate the claws from the body by twisting them off. Bend back the hinged “thumb” or pincer of the claw until it breaks off. You can get meat out of it with a pick or small fork.
Next, break off the claw part from the knuckle. Stand the claw on its edge and use a heavy knife, or a lobster cracker, to chop into the shell. Twist the knife, and the shell will split apart. The meat will then be kept whole. Extract the knuckle meat using the same method. Use a small fork or a lobster pick to get the meat out.
Now, separate the tail from the body by twisting it free. Break the flippers off of the tail. Insert a fork where you broke off the flippers and push the meat out of the tail. Peel back the flap that begins at the flippers; that will expose the black intestinal vein - which you throw out.
The top shell can be unhinged from the body by turning the body on its side and cracking it. Once the top shell has broken free, you can get at the tender piece of meat that lies between the body and the outer shell. You can pick further, and you'll find small morsels of meat located throughout the whole body.
The light green tomalley (thought by many to be the tastiest part of the lobster) can be removed from the body and eaten, and so can the eggs sometimes still found in female lobsters, the red roe... the "caviar" of the lobster.
Finally, break off the legs from the body and extract the meat by squeezing and sucking it out. (Kids of all ages love that part the best!)
There, now that we all know how to officially take apart and eat a boiled lobster - I think it's high time for us to go up to Maine... "ay-ah"... and pig out!
