Lobster, you’re on a roll.
Recent news reports have chronicled your sustainability, affordability and sheer bounty. In Maine alone, marine biologists are happy to report your numbers have grown “unbelievably” over the past 25 years. Will that diminish your white-tablecloth profile?
You’ve had your ups and downs in America; plentiful enough to bore Colonial palates in the 1600s, and popular enough to support a canning industry in Maine 200 years later.
The condition in which you were transported made a difference; once fishermen figured out how to hold fresh Homarus americanus in recirculating-water tanks (pounds), you clawed your way into the “lobster palaces” that catered to the glitterati of Edwardian New York.
Fast-forward through lobster booms and busts of the 19th and 20th centuries: Here you are, gobbled up as fast food and as high-end fare, at restaurants and at home. In the post-“Annie Hall” era, amateur cooks became a downright squeamish about how to dispatch you properly.
Now we’re worried you’re feeling pain, so we move you to the freezer for 10 or 15 minutes to slow your metabolism, before the chef’s knife and heat are applied. Experts say stress can adversely affect the texture of the flesh.
If we’re doing it right, that knife goes in at the top of the vertical slit on the underside of the head, and you don’t see it coming.
Those of us who are moved yet unwilling to give up the taste of your sweet, snowy-white meat are defaulting to the time-honored consumer preference for animal protein that’s easier to deal with in parts — claws and tails — or at least without a face.
“Tails, people cook at home,” says Dave Pasternack, longtime fisherman and chef-owner of Esca and Barchetta in New York. “Doesn’t make a mess.”
Pasternack has cooked a lot of you guys over the past three decades, and he swears he can still remember the taste of a blue lobster (your close cousin, species-wise) he had in Scotland. At his restaurants, it’s Canadian hard shells all the way. “They’ve got 20 percent more meat than new shells,” Pasternack says.
New shells are practically synonymous with Maine lobsters, where seafood is so important it rates a cabinet-level agency. New shells, so named because the lobster has recently molted, have their upside. They’re easier to crack open than hard shells, and they’re less expensive.
With the height of the season just behind us — the usual summer peak was delayed by 2014’s colder winter — South Florida residents can pick up Maine new shells at places like Epicure Market in Coral Gables, where they sell for $19.95 a pound and average about 1 1/2 pounds. Restaurants and Maine denizens are paying $4 to $5 a pound.
Locavores don’t have to be disappointed; about 6 million pounds of spiny lobster are pulled from Florida waters each year by recreational and commercial fishermen during the eight-month season that runs August through March.
So what’s a classy restaurant to do? Lobster used to be the lah-dee-dah thing. Beyond seafood and steakhouse places, the serving of a whole steamed or butter-poached lobster is getting harder to find by itself.
“I’ve never been a big lobster eater,” acknowledges Washington chef Robert Wiedmaier. “It’s rich.”
(How’d people get that idea about you? Nutritionally, you’ve got less fat and cholesterol than a boneless chicken breast.)
His customers at Marcel’s demand that the lobster bisque he opened with 16 years ago, topped with a decadent crown of golden puff pastry, remains available in all but the hottest months.
Is bigger better?
Another option: Go big. At the Palm in District, a 3-pounder’s the smallest lobster on the menu, and it runs $75 this time of year.
There’s some debate about whether size affects the meat’s tenderness. Wiedmaier expects it to be tough, while fishmonger Anthony D’Angelo of Samuels and Son Seafood in Philadelphia says the bad rap’s more likely due to overcooking.
The consensus among chefs seems to be 12 minutes in a boiling pot for the 1 1/4-to-1 1/2-pounders, and 10 minutes more per each additional pound.
Some aficionados find your tail meat tastier and sweeter, while others prefer the relative silkiness of the claw. Here’s the thing, though: Because the shell on the underside of the tail is so much thinner than the claw shells, people who cook the tails also tend to overcook them.
Bottom line: For efficiency, you’re better off when dismantled — not unlike the way a Thanksgiving turkey benefits from similar treatment. But, like that big roasted bird, something’s lost when the sum of parts is presented at the table instead.
D’Angelo’s a hard-shell-claw man all the way. His family has been seafood-savvy since Anthony’s great-great grandfather harvested the waters around Sicily.
The 35-year-old has been in the business half his life. He says lobster has lost some of its luster, but mostly because Americans have more sophisticated, adventurous palates — ordering the high-end likes of cigala (a North Atlantic crustacean) and buri, a Japanese kingfish.
When live lobsters check into their special room (capacity: 20,000 pounds; temperature, 40 degrees) at Samuels and Son’s 70,000-square-foot warehouse, they’re sorted by size and separated into roomy, slotted plastic bins. The showering water that is recirculated through the bins is triple-filtered and chemical-free, running through a state-of-the-art reservoir that’s 12 feet deep.
As impressive as the operation is, the Louisville tanks you chill out in are said to be the largest in the world. It’s all about location; a central spot for North American lobster distribution. And they make you a surprisingly affordable dining option smack in the middle of the country, where prices are as cheap as high season — roughly July to October — in Maine.
On hold in such tanks, the lobsters are basically hibernating; no feeding is necessary.
Tale of the tail
Back at Samuels and Son, thousands of boxed lobster tails await shipping orders in a 5,700-square-foot freezer (minus-10 degrees). Tails have become a huge part of the lobster trade, D’Angelo says, with most of the processing done in Canada when that nation’s lobster season is off and its facilities are available.
Technically speaking, he says, much of the tail meat we buy at supermarkets is not true lobster, but crayfish instead. Lobster has two heavy claws — a crusher and a “seizer,” with serrated edges. The crayfish varieties, including Florida’s spiny lobsters and the rock lobsters of Australia and Brazil, generally have thinner, less powerful pincers.
The exception would be those tails from wild-caught rock lobsters of the Tristan da Cunha islands in the South Atlantic. They are the most expensive (6 ounces, about $36), sweetest-eating, and they are deemed sustainable by the Marine Stewardship Council.
Maybe that’s another answer to maintaining a luxury profile, if that’s what you want: Fill “lobstah” roll orders with fine North American lobster, get the word out about Tristans and rely on those steak- and seafood houses to cook your 5-pounders the right way.
CHEVRE AND LOBSTER CHEESECAKES8 ounces low-fat cream cheese, at room temperature
8 ounces chevre (goat’s-milk cheese), preferably flavored with herbs or mushrooms
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon finely chopped chives
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh marjoram, tarragon or Italian parsley
8 ounces cooked lobster meat, chopped
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Arrange 8 individual-size ramekins on a baking sheet. Combine the cream cheese and chevre in the bowl of a stand mixer or hand-held electric mixer; beat on medium-low speed for several minutes, until creamy and smooth. Stop to scrape down the sides of the bowl. On low speed, add the eggs one at a time, beating to incorporate after each addition.
Use a flexible spatula to fold in the chopped chives and marjoram, tarragon or parsley until evenly distributed, then gently fold in the lobster. Divide the mixture evenly among the ramekins. Bake for 8 to 12 minutes or until golden on top, puffed and just set. Serve hot, in the ramekins. Serves 8.
Per serving: 190 calories, 12 g fat (8 g saturated fat), 16 g protein, 3 g carbohydrates, 95 mg cholesterol, 0 g fiber, 0 g sugar, 310 mg sodium.
Source: Adapted from a Maine Lobster Council recipe.
SCRAMBLED EGGS WITH LOBSTER AND BRIOCHEThree 4-ounce freshly steamed lobster tails (see note)
18 thin asparagus spears, woody ends trimmed off
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
12 to 15 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup finely chopped chives
Kosher salt or fine sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
6 small brioches, for serving
Extra-virgin olive oil, for serving
Cut the lobster into smallish, bite-size pieces. Cut half of the asparagus spears into 1/2-inch pieces. Melt the butter in a large, deep sauté pan over medium heat. Once it’s foamy, stir in the lobster and the asparagus pieces and whole spears; cook for 3 minutes, stirring a few times, then reduce the heat to low. Use tongs to transfer the whole asparagus spears to a plate; they will be used as a garnish.
Add the eggs to the pan; after 3 minutes, use a flexible spatula to gently stir/scramble, pushing from the edges of the pan toward the center. After 4 more minutes, stir in the chives and season with few good pinches of salt and pepper. Cook just until eggs are loosely set; don’t rush it. Reduce the heat to the lowest possible setting.
Split each brioche horizontally, placing 2 halves on each plate with the bottom half cut side up. Divide the lobster scrambled eggs among the plates, spooning them over the brioche bottom and fanning the remaining fresh asparagus spears as garnish (cut to fit as needed). Drizzle each portion with a little oil and sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper. Serve right away. Serves 8.
Note: To cook the lobster tails, defrost in the refrigerator (if needed). Use kitchen shears to cut down the center of the top shell. Arrange in a bamboo steamer set over a pot with several inches of water (over medium heat). Cover and steam for 12 minutes or until the flesh is opaque yet not completely firm when pressed with a finger.
Per serving: 230 calories, 17 g fat (8 g saturated fat), 16 g protein, 2 g carbohydrates, 400 mg cholesterol, 0 g fiber, 0 g sugar, 270 mg sodium.
Source: Adapted from a Maine Lobster Council recipe.