I had never realized, for instance, that it takes longer to raise a lobster than any of the animals and birds we eat. A season, or a year or two at most, does for chicken and other fowl, for lamb, pork, and veal. A few years will bring cattle to maturity. But a lobster faces the hazards of the deep Atlantic for at least seven, and more often ten, years to reach the 1 3/4- to 2-pound size that we usually buy. Even a 1- to 1 1/4-pound baby lobster is four or five years old. And because they seem so well protected by hard shells and vicious claws, I had never suspected how many hazards they face, nor how many lean, worried months are the lot of fishermen when one of the lobster's natural enemies gets the upper hand over them. Nature's uncontrollable whims can make or break these men, because the long, slow growth of the lobster makes it too expensive and impractical to raise it in actual captivity. The industry does maintain lobster ponds, but they are merely to hold the catch from the time the fishermen bring it in until it is sold, a matter of weeks or sometimes months, an arrangement which assures, however, a year-round supply even when storms are so bad the boats can't go out, or when unfilled pots announce that something is “getting” the lobsters.
There's the little matter of sea gulls to cope with. Lobster fishermen hate them as a farmer hates snakes, because sea gulls love to eat the newly born lobsters that always rise to the surface and float on the water before dropping eventually to the ocean floor. Perfect tidbits, apparently, for sea gull connoisseurs! Not much can be done about sea gulls when the whole coast line is dotted with wild, tree-covered islands, where they nest and multiply unmolested. These very young lobsters also make good eating for large fish and even for mature lobsters, since the latter are cannibalistic. The older ones fight with each other, too, the more powerful of the two often ripping off an opponent's claw, which he immediately proceeds to eat. It makes you wonder what a lobster has to fight over. Can it be l'amour for some agile female swimming with such grace that she attracts more than her share of admirers? The loser, however, has no trouble growing another claw. And, incidentally, I had never noticed, until it was pointed out to me, that the two claws are not identical. The larger one has little teeth to break up the food to be eaten, and its location tells you whether a lobster is right- or left- handed; the other claw has a sawlike edge for clinging to rocks or other support.
As they develop, lobsters molt, or shed their shells, outgrowing them as a child outgrows his clothes. This occurs frequently during the first couple of years, but when the lobsters get to be eating size, it happens about once a year. A black line appears down the back, the shell opens, and they slip out, as neatly as you please. In a few weeks the new shell is as strong as the old one. But during those few weeks the meat is soft and jellylike when cooked, and hardly edible, so none is shipped which might shed en route. The fishermen say that lobsters make the best eating during April, May, and June, which is before they shed their shells. Summer and early fall is the molting time for those that shed annually, but fortunately for us, they don't all do it at the same time.
The lobsters you buy in the market weigh between one and three pounds, never less, seldom more, because of state laws. In Maine, for example, those weighing under a pound and measuring less than three and three-eighths inches from eye to body must be put back to grow; those over four pounds and more than five inches from eyes to body must be put back for breeding and reseeding the beds. But oversized lobsters are apt to be tough anyway. All this refers, of course, to the type found in the cold waters of the North Atlantic, usually called Maine lobster in this country, in France, homard. Its meat is in the two large claws and in the tail section of the body. You can also buy spiny lobsters, or marine crayfish—the French call them langouste—which are caught in warmer waters, along our southern and west coasts, off the south of France, South Africa, and other places. They have no large claws, the edible meat lying in their big, heavy tail sections. In recipes calling for cooked lobster, the meat from either type can be used, but when the shell is required in the preparation of the dish, for color and flavor or for serving the lobster, the Maine type, or homard, is obviously chosen.
A delicacy like lobster is always popular when a chef wants to originate a special dish, often done to honor a well-known guest of his establishment. Lobster à la française, for example, is a spécialité I developed when at the London Ritz. Another is lobster Graziella, made for a New York guest of long standing, in which I combined in cream mixture her favorite foods—lobster, mushrooms, and tomatoes. This way of honoring an important person kept intruding on my thoughts when I was in Maine last summer and met Mrs. Margaret Chase Smith, Maine's first woman senator. But in her busy life, what time does she have for stopping off in New York to taste a special dish I might make for her? Why not, I thought, honor her in this article instead of on a hotel menu, and let GOURMET readers try the new recipe, lobster à la Lady of Maine, which she inspired and which uses three Maine products—lobster, mussels, and potatoes.
Pinterest
