All This For A Scone: A Proper Welcome

The fisherman had said we could buy a lobster one day, if we wanted. And of course we wanted. The problem was that I, not being a fisherman, kept not finding him at the right time and the right tide. Fishermen are all about that.

But I tried, and friend Rosie tried with me, because our plan was to have a nice lobster 'welcome to St Ives' for the SconeLady's husband. For a week before the event, we, or I, went to the pier to see if he might be there. Thursday came, and it went, and there was no Thursday lobster dinner. We had nice fish and chips welcome instead. And even though that does not sound as grand as a lobster welcome, the SconeLady's husband had no qualms about it, and was just as happy as if there had been lobster claws snapping away at him from a bucket.

But today I thought I'd give it another 'go', and walked to the pier. The tide was in, which seemed promising. You can't always be sure, though. But there he was in the ice room, shoveling ice onto his Mackerel bins. I peeked in.

"Stuart!" I said. "We've been looking for you!"

He looked up, smiling. "Yes, I heard from the Harbour Master that you'd been here a'lookin'!"

I remembered asking the Harbour Master and now wondered if I should have. What if American ladies were not supposed to go hanging around piers asking about various fishermen. But he said it was all fine, and no worries, and then he asked me, "Will you be wantin' that lobster we talked about?"

"Oh yes, I would, thank you. But I'm not sure what is the best time.."

We worked out the best time, and what boat he would be in, and which hoist he would hoist up to this time. I came at the appointed time, walking up and down the pier and mingling with the people who had signed up for deep sea fishing, knowing that about half of them were going to be sick as dogs, and feeling sorry for them in advance. Just as their boat was casting off, Stuart's came around the pier.

The sequence of events can be seen below:

the lobster pots are hoisted up and thrown onto a big pile of lobster pots
Stuart shouts from his boat, "Only a couple minutes more!" and gives me the thumbs up
Stuart climbs up the iron ladder with an enormous lobster in one hand.
the lobster wriggles creepily in his hand, but does not pinch it. Stuart very wisely binds his lobster's claws with rubber bands so he does not lose a finger
we find a bag to put the lobster into, and I thank him profusely.

You will notice in the pictures here that the lobster starts out a dark brownish black, because it is still alive. My next step is to find a way for it NOT to be alive anymore, and I find myself now in a little pickle. None of the pots in our cottage are anywhere near as huge as this lobster was. But who would have a large lobster pot?

There are a lot of details, dear Readers, but in the end, a nice restaurant man said he would boil the lobster for me. Amazing! The waitress loaned me some eating utensils needed to get the lobster out of its shell, and even gave me a coke to drink while I waited. From start to finish, it was a raging success.

Now you will notice that the lobster has changed color to a lovely red. This means it is no longer alive. Which meant we were free to eat it. The restaurant man had even cut it in the appropriate places so we would be able to get the meat out.

It was, admittedly, a little challenging getting all the meat out because we were not restaurant men, and as a result, made a bit of a mess. But it was a very good tasting mess, all the same.

And the SconeLady's husband did the dishes.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Hoisting lobster pots up