I couldn't have loved this more. I never had lobster as a kid and always thought of it as rich-people food. You brought lobster down to earth and made me long for a paper-covered table and a hot summer day (the latter of which I have in spades, but hot summer days in the city don't do a whole lot for the soul.) Thanks for another great story. And PS - I can't seem to write lately either.
The lobster eating ritual in Maine sounds a lot like the blue crab eating ritual in DelMarVa. Unpretentious. The same with oysters. My mother grew up in Baltimore and every winter my grandfather would get a bushel bag of oysters and keep them in the cellar. The men would go down there every night and drink beer and shuck and eat oysters. We still have my grandfather’s oyster knife, which is much superior to the oyster knives today.
I couldn't have loved this more. I never had lobster as a kid and always thought of it as rich-people food. You brought lobster down to earth and made me long for a paper-covered table and a hot summer day (the latter of which I have in spades, but hot summer days in the city don't do a whole lot for the soul.) Thanks for another great story. And PS - I can't seem to write lately either.
I love an essay on summer. It’s such a potent memory-making season. Beautiful piece!
Beautiful 🤩! Thank you 😊
The lobster eating ritual in Maine sounds a lot like the blue crab eating ritual in DelMarVa. Unpretentious. The same with oysters. My mother grew up in Baltimore and every winter my grandfather would get a bushel bag of oysters and keep them in the cellar. The men would go down there every night and drink beer and shuck and eat oysters. We still have my grandfather’s oyster knife, which is much superior to the oyster knives today.