lobster salad (lyn)

For my last day of vacation, I make lobster salad rolls for dinner.  The prep is easy:

• Go to Cataumet Fish and buy lobster meat.  At $40/pound, I only get half a pound.  Still, that's $20/pound less than what Agata charges.  The experts at Cataumet  advise against getting the tails.  “They’re too chewy.  The knuckles and claws make a better salad.”  I ignore the advice and get a combination of everything.

• Buy two partially baked sub rolls at Dean’s, and put them in Alexander’s backpack for transport.

• Pack up the lobster meat for travel.  I get a bag of ice, and add three ice packs, hoping it won't drip through by the time we get to New York.

Even though we pack the night before, my mom insists in getting us up at 7.  My mom has splurged on getting us a driver to take us to South Station and he is coming at 8:30.   For the next hour and a half, we have something to eat, and then sit around talking while Alexander complains, “Why did you get me up so early?”  I don’t have an answer beyond, “You know grandma and time.” 

We are taking the Bolt Bus, and it is scheduled to leave at 11:30.  That gives us three hours to get to South Station.  According to Map Quest, the drive is only 70 miles away, for an estimated driving time of one hour and twenty-two minutes.  

My mom has a fear of being late, and so we are always ready, hours before we need to be.  In fact, when I had my hair cut here a few days ago, the woman cutting my hair said, “Please tell your mom not to come so early next time."  This week she came thirty minutes before her appointment.

The driver arrives exactly at 8:30.  There is no traffic.  No road construction.  No unforeseen weather.  We get to South Station before ten, and that includes a stop to pick up a sandwich for Alexander.  Something my mother was strongly against when I told her we’d be stopping.  “I hope you’re kidding.  You won’t have time,” she said.  You’d have thought I suggested stopping for a game of mini golf.

Because we have arrived at South Station an hour and a half before our bus is scheduled to leave, we make the earlier one.   We leave at 10:30, and are in our apartment by 4:30.  The lobster is immediately unpacked and put in the refrigerator.

Around eight, as if in rebellion from our six pm dinners on the Cape, I make the lobster salad (just a little mayo and pepper), heat up the rolls, and serve.

My last day of carefree eating.  At least until my next Cape visit.