As I always say, OK — I guess this is done! More or less. It’s one of those dead-of-winter projects where you just don’t feel like plodding through the snow, lugging your gear and suffering for art. I guess I’m getting old!
I don’t know who reads my blog posts, but if you haven’t been following, I said that I’ve never actually had lobster. But I’ve had the next best thing: crawdads! I grew up in Iowa and have fond memories of going seining in the creek for crawdads. We’d use them to bait the trot lines. (Yes — trot — not trout!) My dad had a cabin on the Wapsipinnicon River and that’s where we’d go for the “channel cats”. I’d help dad bait up the trot line and set it up out in the river, right before sunset. We’d sit around a big bonfire on the sandbar and roast marshmallows as the sun went down. Barred owls would be singing their heads off: who cooks for you — who cooks for you-all? Bats cavorted in the darkness. Frogs croaked. A big shooting star would slice across the sky. Off in the distance some farmer’s dogs would be baying at something. A coon hunt? Ah — it was paradise!
The crawdads — can’t forget them! We’d boil some water on the outdoor stove and throw the crawdads in. Served with butter. Oh — and as an extra treat, if we hit the season right, we’d also have a few ears of “horse corn” (field corn we’d “borrowed” from some farmer’s field). It was wonderful.
The lobster dishes are from junk shops. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually serve lobster in them….
Oh, and here’s my loyal cat, Picasso, in his little basket next to my easel.
Margie Guyot Art 