Eating Lobster

I know what you're thinking "he summered in Maine as a kid, the lucky dog - he got to eat lobster whenever he wanted."

Not to burst any bubbles, but like most kids, I HATED lobster. At least my folks would pick the meat out of the beasts for us, saving us from all the work that comes with eating lobster. 

But when I was dining with my Grandmother, she would - with flourish and pride - plop the whole creature on our plate.  The first time she pulled this, I looked over at older brother Buzz in desperation for guidance as to how to attack the beast.  Unfortunately, he was busily looked at Dad to see how HE was doing it. 

These days, I stick with lobster rolls - on a toasted New England hot dog bun, of course - they can't be beat.  Especially because someone else does all the icky work.