I’ve lived in Halifax for over a decade but sometimes feel like *such* a newbie.  Or a Come From Away, as my kind is referred to in the local vernacular. 

The other night I was at a big family lobster feed with the in-laws (or outlaws as I lovingly refer to them).  I’m beating the crap out of a lobster claw with a big chef’s knife on a cutting board.  Above the din of my wacking I hear a couple people saying, “No, Cor, Cor, No – STOP”.  And then someone pulls the knife out of my hand and shows me the exact spot where, with a wack, you can bury the knife into the claw shell.  Then you twist and presto, the shell splits and you can get at the meat inside.  They made it look so easy.

I said, “well what do I know, I’m a west coaster.”  And someone says, “they eat lobster different there?”  Ha!  Yup, that was us.  Snacking on imported lobster flown in from the East Coast – every Tuesday actually!

But this lobster thing is nutty. I’ve realized every family unit has their own lobster eating rituals.  When I was 16 I went on a school exchange trip to PEI.  The family I was staying with in Summerside one day agreed it was going to be lobster for dinner. 

So Mom went to the wharf during the day and bought a garbage bag full of lobster from a fisherman.  Pre-dinnertime the family gathers and goes into Lobster Mode.  Someone spreads out the newspaper on the table.  Someone else gathers the required picking and smashing tools.  Someone puts a big bowl on the middle of the table for shells.  Someone gets the 2 litre bottle of Coke.  Someone gets the potato salad.  It was like a well-oiled machine.  They obviously did this every time.  It was also the first time someone tossed a whole lobster on my plate and assumed I’d figure out how to get the insides into my belly.  I don’t remember how I did.  Obviously I didn’t figure out how to open a claw.  Or it didn’t stick. 

When the outlaws eat lobster it’s newspapers, beer and vinegar for dipping the lobster (crazy right?).  And then they have Day 2 of the ritual, which consists of digging through all the lobster bodies for god-knows-what and making lobster sandwiches.  Some members of the family swear Day 2 is best.

I think in my next life I’m going to get a government grant and research the lobster eating rituals among familial groups on the east coast.  Until then, don’t tell the outlaws, but I’m really more a crab girl.