There's a French saying, chacun à son goût, meaning “each to his own taste,” and I've long observed that one of the tastes pretty generally favored by gourmets, both American and European, is lobster. Before World War I, New Yorkers nicknamed their smart restaurants, those where the very, very gay parties were given, lobster palaces. Today they are called night clubs, and another generation rolls up to them in taxis, instead of hansom cabs. But the sobriquet, lobster palace, would suit them just as well, because today's habitués, scanning the menus, find the same Newbergs, thermidors, and other lobster specialties listed and continue to order them nightly. Mais oui, the background may change but le goût for something good stays with us.
I must admit that in my childhood food memories, which have remained vivid because I came from a food-loving French family, there are no dark green lobsters on the kitchen table, no bright red ones being lifted from a kettle. The shellfish delicacy we ate at parties was écrevisses, bright pink crayfish caught in local streams. It was simply a matter of availability. We lived in an inland section of France, and in those days the cost of transporting anything as perishable as a lobster the many kilometers that lay between us and the coast of Normandy or Brittany would have been too great for our modest incomes. So I met my first lobster when I went to work in Paris.
I was at the Hotel Bristol first and went from there on to the Ritz. Both hotels catered to the élite of Europe, many of whom came to Paris as much for the fine food they knew would be awaiting them as for business or diplomatic affairs or le plaisir. For me that was la bonne chance—my good luck—because I was rounding out my culinary experience by learning how to prepare unfamiliar foods in ways that were those of the baute cuisine. César Ritz, whose name and fame had already become a byword for the finest in fine living, made only one requirement of the kitchens. But that one requirement was perfection. Time, energy, or money to achieve it didn't matter—and there were few, if any, short cuts to perfection which he permitted. The making of lobster bisque was an example.
You can make a good lobster bisque by cooking the crushed shells in stock and using the strained liquor to dilute and flavor the cream base of this shellfish potage. Many a tasty dish of it has been made that way. But that would have been rankest heresy to Monsieur Ritz, while Olivier, his distinguished maître d'hôtel, the never-to-be-forgotten maitre of the Paris Ritz, would have bowed his head in shame at seeing it served. Mais non, our bisque was done the hard but right way, following the rules of perfection laid down by la cuisine classique. The lobsters were started off stewing gently for a few minutes, nestled in a mirepoix bordelaise (chopped carrots, onions, butter, and seasonings). Then they were splashed with brandy and ignited, an established flavor trick in French kitchens, and the cooking finished in stock and wine. But this was only the beginning. The shells, after the meat was taken out, had to be ground almost to a powder in an enormous mortar with a pestle that took plenty of strength to raise and work. You don't even see these devices in modern hotel kitchens, but at that time every fine restaurant was equipped with a huge marble stand that stood as high as a high work table, in which was a bowl, chiseled out of the marble, which held at least three gallons. A pestle about five feet long and fashioned of very hard wood widened out to a smooth round base some ten to twelve inches in diameter and swung from a metal support in the ceiling. Into this mortar the lobster carcasses were thrown. Boiled rice was added, since rice starch was the only thickening considered suitable for a bisque. You grabbed the pestle with both hands, raising, dropping, and swinging it in the big bowl of the mortar. Time and muscles were the essentials—and plenty of the latter, I might emphasize. The first strokes smashed the shells into small bits and crushed the rice to a pulp. The succeeding ones ground the mixture finer and finer until it looked like a ground cereal, except that this was a reddish color, like a blush-pink oatmeal. This was the flavoring, the thickening, and the coloring that went into the other ingredients of the bisque. Then after it was cooked there was the tedious straining to be done. Great kettlesful of the mixture had to be squeezed four times through muslin to remove any trace of ground shell or other fibrous particles. By that time your aching arms told you that no apologies would be needed for its flavor, its texture, or its beautiful pink color, even if the potager—the head soup chef—had not made the final critical tasting and given it his blessing.
After cooking lobsters in every imaginable way for years and years, I finally got to know the fish itself through spending my vacations in Maine, where lobsters are a local industry. Chatting on sunny docks with bronzed, weather-beaten fishermen who must make a daily round of their buoys to haul up the big, clumsy lobster pots in the face of blistering suns, drenching rains, and harsh, salty winds, or whatever nature sends, has made me see this delicacy with new eyes, so that now lobster, strange and unfamiliar to me when I started my career in Paris, is a food that I know more about than almost any other I work with.
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.
Lobster à la Lady of Maine
There are four steps: the preparation of the lobsters, of the mussels, of the sauce, and of duchess potatoes.
To cook the lobsters: Remove and crack the claws of 2 live lobsters of 1 3/4 to 2 pounds each. Cut the tail section from the body and cut the tail part crosswise in 3 or 4 slices. Split the body section in two lengthwise and remove the tomalley (liver) and set aside. Melt 3 tablespoons butter in a saucepan, add 2 tablespoons each finely chopped carrots and onion, and sauté all together for a minute or two. Add all the lobster pieces, season with 1/2 teaspoon salt and a little ground pepper and continue cooking, mixing with a spatula, for 5 minutes, or until they start to turn red. Add 2 cups cream, bring to a boil, cover, and simmer for 20 to 25 minutes.
To prepare the mussels: Scrub well 4 dozen fresh mussels and put in a kettle with 2 tablespoons chopped shallots (or onion) and a generous 1/2 cup white wine. Cover and steam over a hot fire, shaking them occasionally, for 5 to 7 minutes, or until they open. Remove from the pan and turn the cooking liquor into the pan with the lobsters. (Before cooking mussels, always discard those that are not tightly closed and after cooking, discard those that did not open. Remove the cooked mussels from their shells, cut off the beards and the little tough, black part on the outside edge. Put the trimmed mussels in a pan to keep warm. Remove the cooked lobsters from the pan, take the meat out and put it in the pan with the mussels.
To make the sauce: Reduce the combined cooking liquors to about 2 cups. Melt 3 tablespoons butter in a saucepan, add 2 tablespoons flour, and blend over medium heat until the mixture starts to turn golden. Add the boiling liquor (strained or not, as desired) from the lobster and mussels, 1 cup at a time, mixing well with a whip. Heat until slightly thickened and continue cooking 10 minutes longer, stirring occasionally. Finish the sauce by stirring in briskly 3 egg yolks mixed with 1/4 cup cream. Crush the tomalley and mix with 1 tablespoon butter creamed with 1/2 teaspoon flour. Do not allow the sauce to boil after adding yolks and tomalley. Correct the seasoning if necessary and add 2 tablespoons chopped parsley. Arrange a border of duchess potatoes (see GOURMET, January 1949) on a heatproof platter and brown a little in a hot oven or broiler. Mix all but 3 tablespoons sauce with the lobster and mussels and fill the center of the potato border with the mixture. Add 2 tablespoons whipped cream to the remaining sauce, spread over the top of the lobster-and-mussel mixture, and quickly glaze the top in a hot oven or broiler.
In all lobster cookery I advise starting with a green, fresh lobster. By fresh I mean actually alive, able to crawl around on the kitchen table. Those unable to purchase fresh lobsters can, of course, use the frozen or canned products, but the recipes must be adapted accordingly, because then you are using lobster meat. In buying fresh lobsters, the amount depends upon their weight and the way they are to be prepared. As a rule, half a lobster per person is about right. But if you are serving broiled baby lobster (1 to 1 1/4 pounds), many people will appreciate—and expect, in fact—a whole lobster. On the other hand, if you are making a dish which includes a rich sauce and using 1 3/4- to 2-pound lobsters, you can serve six people with 2 lobsters.
As long as a lobster is fresh, there is nothing in it that is harmful, although it is customary to remove and discard the black intestinal line, starting with the little sac in the head. The grayish-white, fringy-looking parts just back of the head are inedible merely because they are too tough to eat. The roe, which turns a bright coral color when cooked, and the tomalley, or liver, which turns green, are particularly delectable, although I've seen many people leave them uneaten. The fish dealer will always split a lobster for broiling if you ask him, but it is easy enough for anyone to do. Place the lobster, right side up, on a board and, using a large, strong, sharp-pointed knife, pierce through the shell at the head. Then cut down through the shell and body to the end of the tail. Turn the two halves over so that the outside is uppermost, keeping the meat, et cetera, intact in the two half shells. In handling a lobster, always pick it up by the body, and it can't nip you even if the plugs have dropped out.
Broiled Lobster
Preheat the broiler about 15 minutes. Split the lobsters, arrange on the broiler pan, cut side up, season with salt and pepper, and spread with a little butter. Broil for 15 to 18 minutes (depending upon size of lobster) and serve with lemon quarters and melted butter.
Many lobster devotees like a simple boiled lobster, served hot with melted butter or cold with mayonnaise. This is the easiest way of preparing them. Plain, salted water may be used or a court-bouillon, the latter giving an added savor.
Homard au Court-Bouillon (Boiled Lobster)
Put 3 quarts water and 2 tablespoons salt in a large kettle and bring to the boiling point. Or make a court-bouillon by simmering slowly for 30 minutes 3 quarts water, 2 tablespoons salt, 1 onion, sliced, 1 carrot, sliced, 1 cup vinegar, 10 peppercorns, 2 bay leaves, 2 sprigs parsley, 1 stalk celery, 1 clove garlic, and a little thyme. Plunge the fresh lobsters into the boiling liquid. If they are to be eaten hot, boil for 20 to 25 minutes, remove from the kettle, split the bodies lengthwise, and crack the claws. Place them cut side up on a serving dish and serve with lemon quarters and melted butter.
To serve cold, boil for about 15 minutes, remove the kettle from heat, and leave the lobsters in the cooling water for another 15 minutes. Remove from the kettle, cool, then chill before serving. Serve as described above, substituting mayonnaise for melted butter.
Many lobster dishes call for cooked lobster meat, in which case follow directions for boiled lobster to be served cold. As soon as the lobsters are cool enough to handle, split them, crack and open up the claws, and remove the meat from the shells.
Lobster Cardinal
Boil 3 lobsters (1 1/2 to 2 pounds each), split lengthwise, and remove the claws. Crack the claws and remove the meat. Remove everything from the shells and turn them upside down to dry. Cut the lobster meat in pieces. Prepare 2 cups sauce Nantua (see GOURMET, October 1948) and spread a thin layer of it in the bottom of each shell. Heat the lobster meat in a little butter, add some sauce to it, and spoon into the shells. Cover the tops with the remaining sauce mixed with 2 tablespoons whipped cream, sprinkle with a little grated Parmesan cheese, and brown under a hot broiler flame.
Currie de Homard à l'Indienne (Curried Lobster)
Make a curry sauce with cream as follows: Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a saucepan, add 1 onion, chopped, and sauté until it turns golden. Add 1 bay leaf, 1/2 teaspoon thyme, 4 tablespoons curry powder, and 1 green apple that has been peeled and chopped. Mix all together, add 1 pint white stock or water and cook very slowly, stirring occasionally, for 1 hour, or until reduced to about half the original quantity. Strain through a fine sieve. (This can be made and kept in the refrigerator.) Make 1 1/2 cups cream sauce (see GOURMET, January 1948), fish velouté (see GOURMET, May, September 1948), or white wine sauce (see GOURMET, October 1948), whichever is most convenient, add 1/4 cup (more for a sharper curry) of the curry mixture, mix well, and bring to the boil, adding a little milk if the sauce is too thick. Remove the meat from 2 or 3 boiled lobsters and cook gently in a saucepan for 5 minutes with 1 tablespoon butter and a generous 1/2 cup sherry. Add the boiling sauce and serve with rice.
Homard Diable (Deviled Lobster)
Split 3 boiled lobsters lengthwise and remove the claws. Crack the claws and remove the meat. Remove everything from the shells and turn upside down to dry. Cut the lobster meat in small pieces, place in a saucepan with 2 tablespoons butter, and keep hot. Prepare 2 1/2 cups Mornay sauce (see GOURMET, September 1948) and add 1 teaspoon English mustard mixed with enough water to make a paste. Add the lobster meat to 2 cups sauce, bring to a boil, season with 1/2 teaspoon salt and a little pepper, and fill the well-dried shells. Mix the remaining 1/2 cup Mornay sauce with 2 tablespoons whipped cream and spread over the tops. Sprinkle with a little grated Parmesan cheese and brown in a broiler.
Lobster Xavier
Lobster Xavier is prepared in the same way as deviled lobster, omitting the addition of dry mustard.
Lobster Stew
Remove the meat from 3 boiled lobsters and cut in small dice. Melt 3 tablespoons butter in a saucepan, add the lobster meat and a generous 3/4 cup sherry. Simmer for 5 minutes, add 3 cups medium-thick cream or half milk and cream, and bring just to the boil. Correct the seasoning with salt and pepper and serve with crackers. If a thicker stew is preferred, add beurre manié, made by creaming together 1 1/2 tablespoons butter and 1 1/2 teaspoons flour.
Lobster Croquettes
Chop the meat from 2 boiled lobsters very fine and heat in 1 tablespoon butter. Mix together 2 cups thick béchamel sauce (see GOURMET, September 1948) and if available 2 tablespoons thick sauce américaine (see GOURMET, January 1949), add 4 slightly beaten egg yolks, and heat over a low flame until well blended. Add the lobster and spread the mixture in a flat, buttered dish. Chill. Form into croquettes, roll in flour, dip in 2 eggs beaten with 1/2 cup milk and 2 tablespoons salad oil, and finally coat with fine bread crumbs. Sauté in butter or fry in deep, hot fat until brown. Serve with cream sauce, sauce américaine, or tomato sauce (see GOURMET, January 1949).
Many of the famous lobster dishes are not made by starting with the meat from boiled lobsters, but require cutting the live lobster up before cooking it. The claws are removed and cracked so they will be easy to open to remove the meat. The body, which consists of two sections, head and tail, is split at the juncture of the two parts and the tail section cut in three or four thick slices. The head part is usually split lengthwise to remove the tomalley, or liver, for thickening the sauce, and the intestinal line and sac in the head are removed and discarded. Although there is nothing much that is edible in the head section, it is cooked with the other parts because it gives flavor to the sauce.
Probably the most famous of this type of dish is one that originated many years ago in Brittany and is called variously lobster à l'armoricaine and lobster à l'américaine. The first is the correct name, because it stems from Armorique, which Brittany was called when France was known as Gaul. It has long been as popular in Parisian restaurants as in Brittany inns, and American tourists, thinking perhaps that it referred to America, have always called it américaine, which is the name it gets in restaurants in this country.
Lobster à l'Armoricaine
Remove and crack the claws of 2 live lobsters (1 3/4 to 2 pounds each). Cut the tail section from the body and cut the tail crosswise in 3 or 4 slices. Split the body section in two lengthwise, remove the tomalley (liver), and set it aside. Season the lobster with salt and sauté in 1/4 cup very hot olive oil. Make a mirepoix bordelaise as follows: Put 1 tablespoon butter in a saucepan, add 1 carrot, finely chopped, and 1 small onion, finely chopped, and cook until lightly browned. Add a little thyme, a bay leaf, and a sprig parsley. When the lobsters have started to turn red (5 to 7 minutes), remove and place with the mirepoix. Add 1 tablespoon butter, 2 shallots, chopped (or a little chopped onion), and 1/2 cup (4 ounces) dry white wine. Sprinkle 1/4 cup brandy over and ignite. When the flame has died down, add 1/2 cup tomato sauce (see GOURMET, January 1949) or tomato purée, 1/2 cup fish stock or white wine, 1 clove crushed garlic, and, if available, 3 fresh tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped. Cover tightly and cook for 20 to 25 minutes. Remove the lobster and take the meat from shells. Strain the sauce and thicken as follows: Crush the tomalley and cream it with 2 tablespoons butter and 2/3 teaspoon flour. Add a little crushed garlic and, if available, some finely chopped chervil and tarragon. Combine with the sauce and reheat but do not allow to boil. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve very hot with boiled rice.
Lobster à la Française
Remove and crack the claws of 3 live lobsters (1 1/4 to 1 1/2 pounds each). Split the lobsters lengthwise and season with salt and pepper. Put 2 tablespoons butter in a saucepan with 1 medium-sized carrot, sliced, 2 medium-sized onions, thinly sliced, 2 shallots, chopped, and 1 teaspoon chopped parsley. Place the lobsters on top of this, add 1/2 cup dry white wine and 1 cup fish stock or water, bring to a boil, and simmer, closely covered, for 25 minutes. Remove from the pan and place the lobsters, cut side up, on serving plates. Loosen the meat in the tail section. Remove the meat from the claws and arrange it in the upper part of the shells. Reduce the liquid in the pan to 1/3 its original quantity and add 2 tablespoons cream sauce (see GOURMET, September 1949) or velouté (see GOURMET, May, September 1948) and finish by stirring in 2 tablespoons butter. The sauce should be thin. Season to taste, add 1/4 cup cognac, and pour over the lobster.
Lobster Graziella
Remove and crack the claws of 3 live lobsters (1 1/4 to 1 1/2 pounds each). Cut the tail section from the body and cut the tail crosswise in 3 or 4 slices. Split the body section. Season with salt and pepper. Melt 3 tablespoons butter in a saucepan, add the lobsters, and sauté 4 or 5 minutes. Add 2 shallots, chopped (or a little onion), a scant 1/2 cup dry sherry, and 1 1/4 cups cream. Bring to a boil and simmer, closely covered, for 20 to 25 minutes. Remove the lobster and take the meat from the shells. Reduce the cooking liquor to 1/3 its original quantity and rub through a fine strainer. Sauté 3 mushrooms, sliced, for 10 minutes in 1 tablespoon butter, adding 3 tomatoes that have been peeled, seeded, and chopped. Add the reduced cooking liquor and continue cooking for 5 minutes longer. The sauce should be thin, but if it needs a little thickening, add 2 tablespoons cream sauce (see GOURMET, January 1948) or velouté (see GOURMET, May, September 1948). Correct the seasoning and finish with 1/4 cup sweet cream and 1/4 cup brandy. Add the lobster meat and serve with rice.
The following recipe was originated by me for Albert Keller, one of New York's famous gourmets, who was, as president and general manager of the Ritz Carlton, my boss.
Lobster Albert
Remove and crack the claws of 3 live lobsters (1 1/4 to 1 1/2 pounds each), split the lobsters lengthwise, and season with salt and pepper. Melt 3 tablespoons butter in a saucepan, add the lobsters, and sauté 3 or 4 minutes. Sprinkle with 1/4 cup cognac and ignite. Add 2 shallots, chopped, 1/2 cup dry white wine, 1/2 cup fish stock or water, and 6 mushrooms, sliced. Simmer, closely covered, for 20 to 25 minutes. Remove everything from the shells and dry them up-side down. Reduce the cooking liquor to 1/3 its original quantity, add 1/2 cup sauce américaine (see GOURMET, January, 1949), 2 tablespoons cream sauce (see GOURMET, January 1948), or velouté (see GOURMET, May, September 1948), and a little chopped parsley. Add 1 tablespoon sweet butter and correct the seasoning. Dice the lobster meat, combine with 2/3 of the sauce, and fill the shells. Mix 1 tablespoon whipped cream with the remaining sauce, spread over the tops, and brown under a hot broiler.
Lobster Thermidor
Remove and crack the claws of 3 live lobsters (1 1/4 to 1 1/2 pounds each). Split the lobsters lengthwise and season with salt and pepper. Put 2 tablespoons olive oil in a flat pan, place the lobsters on it, and broil in a hot oven for 18 to 20 minutes. Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a saucepan, add 3 chopped shallots, and a scant 1/2 cup dry white wine. Cook until reduced to 1/4 its original quantity. Add 1 teaspoon English mustard, 1 teaspoon chopped parsley, and 2 cups Mornay sauce (see GOURMET, September 1948). Cook just to combine the ingredients, stirring briskly with a whip. Correct the seasoning. Remove the cooked lobster meat from the shells, cut in dice, and mix with 2/3 of the sauce. Put a little sauce into each of the shells, fill them with the lobster mixture, and spread the tops with the remaining sauce mixed with 1 tablespoon whipped cream. Sprinkle with a little grated Parmesan cheese and brown under a hot broiler.
Lobster Bisque (Bisque de Homard)
Crack the claws of 2 small or 1 large lobster and cut the body and the tail section in 3 or 4 pieces. Make a mirepoix bordelaise as follows: Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a saucepan, add 1 small carrot, diced, and 1 onion, finely chopped, and cook until they turn golden. Add a little thyme, a small bay leaf, and 3 sprigs of parsley. Add the lobsters and sauté for about 5 minutes, or until they start to turn red, shaking the pan occasionally. Sprinkle with 1/4 cup (2 ounces) brandy and ignite. Add a generous 1/2 cup dry white wine and 1 cup fish stock or chicken broth or water. Cover and simmer for 20 to 25 minutes.
In another pan make a cream sauce as follows: Melt 4 tablespoons butter, add 1/2 cup flour (preferably rice or barley flour), mix well, and blend over medium heat until it just starts to turn golden. Add 1 1/2 quarts boiling chicken stock (or half milk and half water). Continue cooking over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens slightly. Remove the meat from the lobsters, cut it into very fine dice, cover with a little good Madeira or sherry, and keep warm. Break up the pieces of shell (the body section and small claws can be run through a food chopper) and put with the cream sauce. Add the mirepoix and cooking liquor and simmer slowly 1 1/2 hours, skimming as necessary. Rub through a very fine strainer into another pan, bring to a boil, and add milk or cream to bring to the consistency of a cream soup. Add a drop or two of red vegetable coloring to give a light pink color, if the shell hasn't colored it. Finish with 1/4 cup heavy cream and 1 tablespoon butter. Correct the seasoning with salt and add the diced lobster meat and 2 tablespoons brandy.
Lobster Cocktail à la Ritz
Cut the meat from 2 small boiled lobsters into small pieces and mix with 1 heart of celery, diced, and 1 heart of lettuce, chopped. Mix together 3 tablespoons mayonnaise, 3 tablespoons Russian dressing, 1 tablespoon chili sauce, 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce, 1 tomato, peeled, seeded, and finely chopped, and 1 teaspoon each chopped chives and parsley. Combine with the lobster mixture and serve on lettuce arranged around serving glasses or plates.
Lobster Mayonnaise or Salad
To 1 cup boiled lobster meat, cut in pieces, add 1/2 cup chopped celery and enough mayonnaise to moisten. Serve on a bed of greens.
Lobster à la Parisienne
Cook the lobsters in court-bouillon. Cool and split in two lengthwise. Serve cold garnished with vegetable salad, cucumbers, tomatoes, and hard-cooked eggs. Serve with green sauce (see GOURMET, August 1948) or mayonnaise.