Text 3326, 82 rader
Skriven 2013-08-10 00:43:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: Mr. Lobster 981
=======================
I was informed that there was to be a gathering at
Su Chang on Thursday, the guests of honor Gunther and
a lobster of the same age as Gunther, only one of
whom was to leave the premises alive. I was summoned
to attend, failure to do so at my peril.

The plan was for Helen and/or Steven to drop me off
mid-afternoon at the Fireplace restaurant on their way
to errands, whereupon my friend Beth would join me to
taste a few wines, and then Otto would take both of
us up to the restaurant. Aside: the Royal East, at
which we had a couple very satisfactory cooking echo
banquets, has changed hands - the landlord was not
willing to offer a lease extension at a reasonable rate,
so Otto bailed, and there is a new restaurant in there
now, also called Royal East, that serves mostly Malay
food with some Thai and Chinese things.

Anyhow, Helen was off at the hospital, with Steven
at her side, and I helped Sasha move her piano, mashing
a finger and gouging my knee and a wall in the process.
Then there was the question of getting where I needed to
go. A brisk 1.5 mile walk to the highway, where the bus
to the nother bus, and lo and behold, an hour and half
later, I had just time for a couple tastes of totally
insignificant wines, though Beth and I couldn't coordinate,
which was fine as her tolerance for bad wine is less than
mine. What I tasted.

White Knight Viognier (Napa) 11 - thinnish and acidy,
with none of the richness of the French stuff. Negligible
aroma and a thudding dead finish. Poison in a glass, and
I was pretty flummoxed by the good reviews that it gets.

Milbrandt Riesling (Columbia) 12 - slightly candylike
though dryish, some stone and tropical fruits, a little
floral at times; at least it tasted like wine, but it
too had little and an uninteresting finish.

Canoe Ridge Expedition Chardonnay (Horse Heaven) 11 -
oddly, I liked this best of the three: a good straddling
of the lemony and oaky styles, it was the only one with
any kind of body at all. Too bad it was the last poured,
so I had only five minutes with it before heading to
Beth's to get picked up.

I hot-footed it there, rang up Beth, and we went to the
street where Otto was there promptly at 5. We wended our
way to 93, which was sort of moving, and were at the
restaurant at 6:10. Gunther had been dropped off earlier
and was enjoying a Sapphire martini when we arrived. John
and Irene had left Charlestown at 4 something but naturally
had taken the bridge and US 1 so didn't get there until
6:20. Nicholas, who had the least traffic and the least
distance to go, got there at 6:40 or so. His friend
Marjorie MacAllister the composer left Berklee at 5 but
somehow didn't manage to get there until after he did.
All for a 6 pm dinner.

Joining us was Mr. Lobster, a 19-lb behemoth whose
entrance caused oohs and ahs throughout the restaurant and
the whipping out of many cellphone cameras. I imagine that
his last moments will be well publicized on Facebook and
the like. There are apparently pictures extant of me
holding him up, with a homaricidal gleam in my eye.

Mr. Lobster, a handsome creature, was said to be approximately
the same age as Gunther (88). When I picked him up, he made
a couple of defiant snappy gestures with his claws, but
finding these securely rubber banded and myself out of harm's
way, quickly gave up and sank into a sullen limp condition,
from which he never recovered. Fine, especially for photographic
poses, though one of his claws flopped around despondently, and
I had to artificially prop it up. One final defiant gesture:
he peed on my shirt; as the liquid was just like any other
fishy sea water, this wasn't too awful an event.

After a certain amount of these barbaric amusements, he was
given up to the kitchen, whence he returned an hour later
cooked three ways, and tasty indeed he was.
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