L is for Lobster

If we’re in the mood to add yet more items to the towering list of things I’ve never experienced then eating lobster would definitely qualify. Just in the realm of edible delicacies (I’m not really sure what other kinds of delicacies there are but I’ve already used the words thing and item and I didn’t want to repeat either of them quite so soon. Though obviously I’ve completed failed that urge in the last sentence) there’s plenty I still have to try. Caviar, foie gras and a wide variety of other gross bits of animals that we only think are fancy because rich people in excellently tailored suits told us so. Or did they?

Who’s idea was it that lobster was such a winning meal? Of course I’ve never tried it so I don’t know quite how good it tastes. Then there’s the special cutlery, lobster hammers and tweezers (it’s a long time since I’ve even seen it eaten on telly. I know I haven’t got that quite right but if you keep quiet then it’s distinctly possible that no one will notice. No one really reads this thing anyway. I have got to stop saying that) that require a certain level of ingenuity and dedication to master.

There’s the other factor that we really ought to consider. I’m hardly the most sophisticated of diners. I like ketchup. There’s more to it than that. Probably. Maybe I don’t deserve lobster. I’d only smear it all the way down my front (in the process ruining whatever pretty togs I’d gussied myself up in for the momentous occasion of lobster consumption) and in my hair. I’d have built up the experience in my head to the point where the actual taste of it could never live up to whatever I’d imagined and would probably have been happier with a plate of sticky ribs. At least the mess would be understandable then.


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