Killing and Grilling - A special edition of WIAT

Warning: Graphic photos ahead...

Ah, Summer. It's hot here on the island, no doubt about it. Not long ago, A. suggested we do something nice. I figured, "It's summer, lets grill something." It just so happens that I know she likes grilled corn, and an increasing awareness of lobster led me to choose it as an accompaniment to said corn.

Full disclosure: I am not the world's biggest fan of lobster. 

My family, on the other hand, loves it, and at least once a year, sometimes more, my uncle will arrive with a cooler full of 2-3 pound monsters.  When I was a young boy, this feast would most often take place at my Grandparent's house in Gaspe, with newspaper spread on the table, and carpenter's hammers to break the shells, and the lobsters straight from the wharf. Lobster juice everywhere. Good times.

Lobster has been on the radar. On a recent trip to Metis, my fatherland, A. and I shared a lobster roll. It was good, and, it was my first. I've had shrimp rolls, but never lobster. I hear there are some good ones here in the Old Port, but I haven't found them yet.

Anyway. Lobster on the brain, and I decide to grill one up, something I have never done before.

Serious Eats did a piece on lobster rolls the other day, which included a philosophical foray into the morality of killing lobsters.

I was comforted/encouraged by this, and I knew that A. has some experience killing lobsters in a professional kitchen. At worst, I figured she could walk me through it/take over if I panicked. Emboldened, I purchased two very nice specimens. And I killed them. With a knife. Fun times.

I later described the experience to my mother (who hung up on me when I had told her my plans the day before; my uncle buys his lobster pre-cooked, clearly) as grim.

Tasty, but grim. I'll likely get over it. I'm with the Serious Eats fellow on this one.

More pics (all taken by A., who has some talent at these things) inside the Hall...

On Meat...

I read an article recently, at the prompting of a colleague I met recently, by Mark Bittman, food writer for the New York Times. It concerns meat, and how we, as the West, and now, increasingly, the developing world, eat meat. How much of it we eat, primarily.
This follows close on the heals of a post I read on of Serious Eats, which also concerned meat, more specifically the killing of it by those who intend to eat it, as opposed to the killing of it by professionals bent on profit. In truth, what I know about the meat packing industry might suggest that they are not all professionals, but I can't swear to it without more research. I think this idea originates with Fast Food Nation, now surely some years out of date.
Much of this is also related to Mark Zuckerberg's recent declaration that he kills his own meat.
In any case, I also happened to have a lovely lunch at a vegan restaurant this afternoon, The Green Panther, close on the heels of another pleasurable vegan meal, and some astounding 'milk'shakes, at Strongheart's, in Syracuse, NY. A meat-free lenten fast also helped clarify the vegetarian lifestyle, or a reasonable facsimile thereof.
All told, it means I'm slowly beginning to think through the implications of my own diet choices, which, as I am often fond of saying, could be described as ideologically carnivorous. Another of my favorite food writers, Michael Pollan, in his Omnivore's Dilemma, argues convincingly for meat eating, at least in the case of food one has killed oneself. Recent debates with friends and colleagues suggest that meat itself is not an issue so much as the industrial production of meat in North America, which I understand can be  unsettling.
My own philosophy has not yet been successfully hammered out. I have, in the past, hunted, and likely will again in the future. I am unlikely to give up meat all together, but I have made attempts in the past few years to reduce my consumption. Days at the Rodeo are an exception, obviously.

Out and about... Granville Island style

I'm recently back from a leisurely trip to the west coast. Vancouver, to be exact. While there, I fell in love with the English Bay, a very nice little bay indeed. I may not compete, as far as overall fondness is concerned, with the bay on Le Fleuve, which my ancestral home overlooks. But English Bay, with its mist and it mountains, and the anchored container ships waiting like slumbering beasts, great hulking marine beasts, waiting for the run into the harbour, is surely well up on the list. Said the Whale has a really nice tune about it, as well.

My first day in Vancouver, my family (a sizable chunk of it, anyway) and I decided to check out the public market on Granville Island, reachable most easily via pedestrian ferry.

My lifelong love of boats and I were most impressed, and my new-found love of Sperry Topsiders was not to be disappointed, either, although I had left mine safe at home, preferring to risk my beater boat shoes to the perils of the road.

More photos (and Topsiders!) inside the Hall...

"Did you ever take that test yourself?"

Polaroids of Sean Young. From BoingBoing.

I'm pretty certain I do not need to explain the awesomeness here.

Tie-Day Friday.

Inspired by several worthy gents on the internet, I decided I'd wear a tie on Fridays. I though, "hey, I'll call it Tie-day Friday, and it'll be fun". So I did. A few Fridays in a row. And I put it on facebook. SOme of my friends, they seemed to think it was a good idea, so I kept it up. Maybe they did too.

It's a bit of an attack on Casual Friday. I had started making sure I was less casual on Fridays quite some time ago, and when people asked why (if they noticed), I'd say, "'cuz it's casual Friday."

But the Tie-day thing, that's relatively new. I like it though, and I think it's here to stay. I'd be happy if it caught on, too, so if you happen to have a tie, wear it on a Friday, and let me know about it.