The Lobster Bake

The Lobster Bake is in August at a park on the water in Freeport. It’s my favorite day of the year! The invitation says 1:00-4:00 and unlike a normal summer BBQ, it is very important to arrive right at 1:00. When we arrive we get a beer from a nearby keg and wander over to the fires. Last year there were 3. First there is the coals, then the raised bed of corn, lobsters, and steamers. These gigantic piles are topped with fresh seaweed. My mouth waters as I get close enough to feel the sting of smoke in my eyes.

I make small talk with our friends, but my eye keeps watch. I don’t want to miss the action. And then there it is, you see the shovel and trays emerge. The seaweed is removed and it’s time. We hurry to get in line. We pile our individual trays and sit down at the picnic tables. I tie the white plastic bib around my neck and dig in. First the claws, then the tail. My husband looks at me with raised eyebrows as I drop the last steamer shell in the bowl. I nod.

We get back into line and repeat. And repeat. And repeat until we start to rest elbows on the table and lean back.

On a snowy day like yesterday, the lobster bake seems like a dream. As I grab my shovel and look out at my driveway covered in 18 inches of snow, I can’t help by wish I was at the lobster bake instead.


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