O human people: we only can preach at other so much before our faith falters. Today I’ve read as many articles and social media posts as I can manage, written three pieces (and one vehement blog post), and walked four miles in this stupid, stupid heat. My brain is officially dry white toast. So I’m going to make lemon lobster rice and wolf it in my air-conditioned bedroom while watching episodes of “West Wing.” Who knew that show would represent a relatively halcyon era of American politics? Anywhere, here’s the recipe if you’re interested. I made it up while watching C.J. Cregg eviscerate a fashion reporter, so if it’s off, you have my ardent apologies. It tasted pretty good to me.
Lemon Lobster Rice
1 1/2 cups white rice (I used organic jasmine)
2 1/2 tablespoons butter (if you’re feeling virtuous, substitute olive oil)
The juice of 1/2-2 lemons, seeded and depulped
3 cups fish stock, chicken stock, or water
1 fistful parsley, de-stemmed and chopped
1 clove minced garlic
green peas, at least a fistful
1 1/2-2 lb lobster
A sense of humor (always)
Boil a lobster, and allow it to cool for at least 10 minutes. Crack it open, salvage as much of the meat as feels comfortable (Rachel uses the whole guy; I avoid the green guck and the mealiest roe), and cut it into small bite-sized pieces. (I use kitchen shears; if you don’t have a pair, consider the investment. Total game-changer.) Meanwhile, cook the rice using the liquid of your preference. (I used two cups of water and a cup of chicken stock left over from my crab risotto adventure.) Over medium-heat, sauté the garlic in two tablespoons of the butter in a sturdy-bottomed, medium-sized pot–salacious, I know–and then fold in the lobster pieces, the bulk of the lemon juice, a few tablespoons of leftover stock if you have it, and the peas. (I snagged some from the bag I keep in my freezer to treat back spasms.) After the garlic smells deliciously cooked, fold in the cooked rice. Then, when the mixture looks like a happy family, add most of the parsley, the remaining butter and lemon juice as you see fit, liberal amounts of cracked black pepper, and finely ground sea salt to taste. Serve with a final twist of the pepper shaker and a dusting of extra parsley. Weekday summer glamour, at your service.