Cockroach of the Sea - Bug on a Plate

These are very appealing and colorful "bugs" though... 

I found a related article by another writer or blogger that is very reminiscent of my first experience eating lobster.  Excerpts from the story are copied below these pics which I took at a restaurant at Central Park Mall in Jakarta the other night.

"The Cockroach of the Sea" - blog article by Stephanie March

In a floating restaurant, with buoys hanging from the ceiling and the full complement of other nautical trappings, I ordered my first lobster. I was eight. Not a big seafood fan, I hemmed and hawed over the menu, which was crammed with clip-art renderings of comical sea creatures, until my Uncle John leaned over and said, “Go ahead and order a lobster, we’re celebrating!” Well, if we were celebrating, lobster must be like having cake for dinner, I thought. Sign me up! When the ridiculous red monsters were brought to the table, I watched as everyone dove in, cracking claws with gusto, melted butter dripping everywhere. All I could do was look at the giant bug on my plate. Someone eventually helped me crack it open and pull out some meat. As I sat chewing my little lump, my family looked to me expectantly, eyebrows raised, waiting for my precocious verdict. I said it was delicious. I lied.

Suffering my way through most of it, I learned a fine lesson in peer pressure. Lobster is a delicacy! Lobster makes everyone happy! C’mon, everyone’s eating it! I thought lobster was rubbery, smelly, and had no flavor other than that of algae and butter. But clearly there was something wrong with me, because the mere mention of lobster caused adults to loll their heads and go “mmmmm,” evidently recalling cherished moments with their little red friends.

The crustacean that has transported you is most likely Homarus americanus. Although this species is found anywhere from the Canadian Maritimes down through the Carolinas, it is widely known as Maine lobster, due in no small part to Maine publicists. European lobsters, Homarus gammarus, are basically the same as the American, just smaller.

The American love affair with the lobster actually had a late start. Early settlers thought them too ugly to eat, and witnessed the Native Americans using them for field fertilizer and fish bait. The creatures were so plentiful that they could be plucked effortlessly from tide pools. They were considered “poverty food” and served to prisoners and indentured servants. In Massachusetts, servants were outraged and lobbied for a law that would limit their lobster meals to no more than three per week.

Some stories credit John D. Rockefeller for the change in lobster’s social status. Legend tells of a wayward pot of lobster stew that was destined for the servant’s table and somehow made it to the master’s tray. He fell in love, and the dish became part of his regular menu. And what’s good for John D. is good for everybody! In truth, it was the canning industry in the late 1800s that popularized lobster, bringing packed tins of meat to all corners of the globe. World War II gave another boost to the industry as lobster answered the increasing demand for protein-rich foods. In the later boom years, per-capita consumption increased and lobstermen saw increasing profits, along with mounting competition. The lobster industry was one of the first to recognize the need for protective guidelines and limitations on fishing practices.

Today, lobstering is a grueling, labor-intensive, and closely guarded profession. “Lobster gangs” along the East Coast, comprised of fishermen with particular skills or family ties, don’t necessarily maraud through the waters, but they do defend their territories. This not only ensures their communities’ livelihood, but helps prevent over-fishing of limited resources.

While some have dubbed lobster the “cockroach of the sea” for its indiscriminate scavenging, lobstermen simply call their catch “bugs,” which is no coincidence, as a lobster’s nervous system is most like that of a grasshopper (lobsters and insects both hail from the arthropod phylum). This means that they don’t feel pain in the way that humans do, which is good because boiling them alive is simply the best way to cook them. As for the supposed “scream” emitted when they are plunged in boiling water—that’s the air escaping from their shells, which can produce a high-pitched whistle. You are not sadistic, you are just hungry. Once plopped in the pot, all lobsters turn red, no matter their original color, which is most often a mottled dark blue shade, but can be yellow, orange, purple, or even half-and-half.

Once you buy a lobster, you can actually keep it around for a few days, provided it spends them in a cool moist environment. But do not put them in your bathtub thinking you are being nice—freshwater to a saltwater creature is like diesel in an unleaded car. And by all means, keep the rubber bands on the claws, not only for your own safety, but for the bug’s: Lobsters are quite territorial and can go cannibalistic in close quarters.

The real question is: To bib or not to bib? When it comes to savoring lobster, it’s easy to find restaurants serving up sparkly, funky, elaborate dishes—but I’d strongly recommend sticking with the preparation that best highlights the essence of lobster. In other words, go for the bug-on-a-plate. However, you can leave the bib off, as shelling needn’t be a massacre. Simply twist off the claws and use a cracker to expose the meat. Next, separate the tail from the body and remove the tail flippers (don’t forget the meat there.) Use a fork to push the tail meat out in one piece. Discard the sick black veiny thing running down the middle. Separate the top body shell from the underside by pulling them apart. You’ll notice a green substance called tomalley. Some people think it’s a lord-lovin’ delicacy and spread it on toast. I think it’s water-toxins processed through a prehistoric liver, but you be the judge. Finally, crack the underside down the middle and gnaw on the legs.