Friday, 2/5/10 – Shellfish

It had never been clearer to me that I was not meant to be in the veterinary field than at that moment. I killed many innocent souls on Friday night, slurping them down like their one goal in life was to die and be dolloped with cocktail sauce. It was upsetting at first. I went so far as to make myself “busy” while we were supposed to be plunging our chef’s knives through the brains of live, squirming lobsters, nonchalantly saying “Hey can you do mine Chad? Little busy here…thanks man.” (Sorry Chad, the blood’s on your hands now.) It got a little easier, and I kept reminding myself of the chapter in that stupid and ridiculous book about FCI I wasted my time reading when the author is complaining to her chef about killing the innocent and cute lobster, and his silent response was to open the lobster’s claw and let him clamp onto her index finger. She screams, and is reminded that they’re not innocent little creatures with big doughy eyes and shiny fur. They’re dumb, sharp and delicious.

Speaking of delicious, we steamed our lobster in an herb/vegetable court bouillon, and covered them in a beautifully red/orange Sauce Americaine, made from sautéed lobster parts and shells with brandy, vegetables, herbs and wine. The sauce can be turned into lobster bisque, actually, by adding a thickened heavy cream….mmm. We butter crusted sea scallops and laid them in a pool of a parsley/mushroom/onion puree (a gorgeous Kelly green). It was a beautiful and elegant dish, and the scallops were just perfect.

So by dinner time I was over the whole, “we are murders” thing, and was able to proceed with the yummy bivalve delights awaiting us. We steamed some mussels in a butter/shallot sauce, and shucked some shu**ing (!) clams and oysters. I definitely prefer oysters, although they’re quite ugly and intimidating. My last and worst experience with fresh clams was in a seaport restaurant out on Long Island, where I consumed so many shell fragments and sand it felt like my teeth were crumbling. Having the opportunity to clean them fresh right before consuming was key, because I was able to rinse them to my own liking. See, OCD is good!

I left that night with saltwater/horseradish breath and a yellowish tint to my eyes, which I can only assume is jaundice from the hepatitis virus I caught from the copious amounts of shellfish consumed in such a short amount of time. I’ll eventually need to get a nice fat lobster and make ‘em bleed on my own, but for now I think I’ll take a break from the crusty crustaceans. At least until Valentine’s Day…