My step-dad, David, gets up every morning before 6 to have his coffee, boy-gossip and business transactions down at Tim Horton's. Earlier this week, he ordered 26 pounds of lobster during such a visit (I suspect it was before the coffee properly kicked in) and we had us a lobster party.
Here's a photo of what I like to call the Little Yummies (is it weird to name your dinner?)Here's their new home in a propane-powered cook pot
And their remains will be worshiped and devoured in Mum's rompus room. It cracks me up to see all newspaper, paper towels, hand-wipeys, Chinet plates and then wine glasses in the middle of it all.
The blonde on the left is Patsy and sitting to her right is Chester and they'll teach you all you need to know about cracking claws (wrap the claws with two paper towels so as not to hurt your hands) sucking meat out of the legs and eating the tamale (a brown gooey delicacy from the body cavity - but I think it looks like mud) before it gets cold. Chester was finished with his third lobster before I was half-way through the tail of my first. And Elaine (back left) wore her special lobster-cracking-apron. This was not a dinner for lightweights.
I'd say "Wish You Were Here" but I was having enough trouble with the competition that did show up ;)