Saturday, August 04, 2007
Our Christmas dinner, for as long as I can remember until we found out LittleBoy had food allergies, was lobster.
Yes, I can see the shock horror on your face. What, no turkey? No ham?, you ask. Nope.
My most treasured memories are of my grandfather, an immigrant from Austria who taught himself English, struggling with a nutcracker to get the better of the lobster.
I do worry that my son (or both of them) might never try this luscious food (best served with Homard wine).
It is still a treat, as we now have a killer brined turkey every year for Christmas, and get lobster over the summer when we're in Maine, straight from the lobstermen who have pulled them from their lobster traps that very morn. The smell of the ocean in the house from the lobster pot brings me back to many many meals, all of which were accompanied by newspaper on the table, a baked potato each, green salad, and blueberry pie. Mmmmmmm
Kinda not keeping up with the memories tonight, but the tub of chocolate frosting with the spoon in it next to me is making my tummy happy anyway...
One interesting tidbit, might be too much info. When still nursing LittleBoy, and before we knew of the allergies, we had a lovely lobster meal. I had to pump that night, as I was leaking milk, and put the pumped milk in the fridge. When getting up the next morn for brekkie, I opened the fridge to see the breastmilk with a layer of butter on the top from the lobster meal. The bubs *slurped* that bottle down in a wink.