Culinary school: Lobsta killers

 Day 14, Wednesday, July 7, 2010

The lobster waved its antennas slowly. It had been put in the freezer and was docile.

Chef X lifted the lobster with no fear.

“You don’t have one that’s moving a little bit better?” he asked Chef L.

Chef L placed another lobster on Chef X’s cutting board.

The two lobsters raised their claws at each other and began to duel.

“We going to put the lobsters to sleep,” Chef X said.

Chef X separated the crustaceans. Then he began rubbing the top of a lobster’s head with one finger. The lobster stopped moving.

“See how relaxed it is?” Chef X said. “It’s getting a free massage.”

He rubbed the head of the second lobster and it stayed still.

“There we go,” he said. “They look like angel now.”

We laughed.

“Now we gon’---“ Chef X made a guttural death noise, motioning across his neck with his finger.

My classmate Nicole asked how long the lobsters would stay still.

“Until you do this,” Chef X said and tapped the lobsters. They woke up and lifted their claws.

He promptly rubbed their heads and the crustaceans instantly shut down.

Without warning, Chef X lifted a lobster, twisted off its claw, took off the other claw and ripped off the tail. The lobster’s antennas and legs moved with no body. He did the same to the other lobster.

“Anybody who take 10 minutes to do that, I’m gon’ to call you ‘butcher,’” he said.

He broke open a lobster head and took out the gills. Chef explained the gills had to be removed or they would leave a bitter taste when we made the americaine sauce later. The claws and tails would be cooked separately.

Chef dismissed us from his lecture and the class migrated to the refrigerators where the lobsters were.

Phil, my new partner, retrieved two lobsters and plopped them in a bowl on the counter between us. I gingerly lifted one onto my cutting board and began rubbing its head. The lobster stopped moving.

I looked down at the lobster and paused, thinking of its future death.

I lifted the lobster by the back of its head and tried to grasp a claw, but the lobster waved its legs and antennas so much that I put it down, losing my resolve. I frantically slid my finger back and forth over the lobster’s head. It stopped moving, except for its eyes.

The lobster’s beady eyes rolled forward, to the side and back, taking in its surroundings as if it knew it was going to die. It curled its tail in defiance.

This wasn’t at all like how I imagined we would kill lobsters. I had thought of Julia Child plunging a lobster in a pot of boiling water. We were committing real murder compared to her.

Phil kept rubbing the head of his lobster.

“What are you waiting for?” said Eric, who was at the work station next to us.

Phil said his lobster wasn’t asleep yet, although it hadn’t moved from its spot on his cutting board.

I looked down at my lobster again, trying not to think of how I was going to kill it. I took a breath, lifted the lobster and twisted off a claw. I gripped the other claw, turned it and dropped it in a bowl. I ripped off the tail, hearing a crunch before it came off in my hand.

I had never killed a lobster before. This was our introduction to shellfish.

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