Wednesday, September 28, 2016

HOW TO EAT A LOBSTER

Just as I smacked my lips after eating  a succulent piece of meat from the claw of my boiled Maine lobster, I heard a shrill shriek in a highly-prized Maine accent come out from my dear friend Billi's mouth.   "Who the hell dumped the knuckles in the bucket?"  Billi questioned, as she stared directly at me.  "Yikes, I guess that was me," I said in a somewhat guilty-sounding voice.  "I forgot there was some lobster meat in there."  





Once Billi discovered I was the culprit, she silently branded me a lobster-eating neophyte, a beginner, a rookie who didn't know how to tackle this pre-historic-looking, boiled-to-death monster that sat on my paper plate.  I did nothing during our feast to convince her of a time during my growing up years in New England when I attacked and ate a Maine lobster with gusto, like a pro, but I admit it has been some time since I rolled up my sleeves, put on my bib, and dismembered a marine crustacean.   Since our lobster feast was the centerpiece of our special one-day reunion among five very good friends from high school, I didn't want to embarrass myself, but I guess I kind of did. 

With apologies to Billi, whose father was a lobsterman, by the way, I retrieved the pristine knuckles from the bucket where I had tossed them because I didn't think they were worth the effort.  But now that I had them back on my plate,  I started with the lobster cracker first, but moved on to using the small pick fork which did most of the work, which wasn't easy.  To be honest I only got a few bits of flaky meat out of the knuckles, so when no one was looking, I dropped the bits in my bowl of melted butter,  and figured I could fish them out at the end.  I watched with envy as my friends slurped and sucked the juice and small bits of meat from every part of the lobster, including the knuckles, but I didn't know quite how to begin. 





Next I attacked the tail, which everyone knows holds the glory and is the tastiest part.   I twisted the tail off, carefully removed the three or four fan-like tabs and, just like my mother taught me, I pushed my fattest finger into the now-opened end, and voila, the chunky tail meat slipped out the other end in one nice big piece.  Just as I started to dip the lobster meat into my melted butter and take my first bite,  Billi grabbed the tail from my hand and spoke to me sternly once again.  "Pam, you don't eat that stuff," she said, as she tore away the red fleshy-like substance covering part of the tail.  Once she removed the red sheath, she deveined the lobster with her bare hands, like one might devein a shrimp, something I had never seen performed on a lobster before, but I watched and prayed that after she finished the job, there would be something left for me to eat.  "Here," she said, as she handed me the macerated tail, "but remember, never eat the red stuff."  Up until now my other Maine born and bred girlfriends, sat around the table engrossed in their own lobsters, but as Billi's comments grew louder, they turned to me and almost as if they had practiced in unison proclaimed  We never eat the red stuff -- whatever it is.    What is it anyway?  Eyeballs?  digested food?  female eggs?  the bladder?  No one was really sure, but they all agreed that you don't eat the red stuff.   By the time Billi finished cleaning my lobster tail, it looked pretty small, but after I dipped it in melted butter, and took my first bite, it didn't matter.   I was in bliss.  






After I finished the tail and wiped the melted butter from my chin,  I started to pry open the body of the lobster, and that's when I heard Billi's stern voice once again.   "No, No, No.  That's not the way.  This is how you do it."  Using both thumbs,  Billi broke open the carapace of the lobster and exposed a display of white flaky innards, which can be tasty, but, like the lobster knuckles,  it seemed like too much work to separate the meat from the cartilage.  Actually, I hoped to find the tasty green stuff,  the squishy paste that is called tomalley, and I did. I found lots of the delicious green stuff.  I have never wanted to ask anyone what tomalley really was for fear that it could be something horrible, like digested food, but when I looked up the spelling, I learned the awful truth.  Tomalley functions as both the liver and the pancreas of the lobster.  Now I think eating the liver and pancreas of a lobster sounds terrible, just as terrible as eating digested food, but I have always loved the green stuff.   Now that I have read the details on Wikipedia, I'm not sure whether I will eat tomalley ever again because I learned that tomalley often contains toxins and other pollutants, which possibly can give off a number of negative health effects if eaten in large concentrations.  Fortunately since I only eat a whole lobster once every couple of years, I doubt I have to worry, but on that special day with my girlfriends in Kennebunkport,  I ate two whole Maine lobsters and lots of tomalley.





After the table was cleared,  Billi placed a large home-made blueberry pie and a bowl of vanilla ice cream on the table for us to share.  Mainiacs, as people from Maine are called,  know that after consuming a lobster (or two), the tastiest dessert is a piece (or two) of fresh blueberry pie topped with vanilla ice cream.  Those tiny Maine blueberries are superior to blueberries grown anywhere else on the planet.





The lobster feast was the edible portion of a very special day-long reunion among five good friends who graduated together in 1961from Gould Academy, a boarding school in Bethel, Maine.  The non-edible portions of our day were non-stop talking, considerable introspection, some true confessions, and just a tiny bit of good clean gossip.



L-R LOUISE, BILLI, SANDY, PAM AND HILDA


The Adventure continues...............

Sunday, September 4, 2016

A PHOTO FEAST IN NORWAY'S LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN

If you ask a traveler to name a favorite place to visit,  the Norwegian fjords are often mentioned because of their dramatic and extraordinary beauty.  Once Bruce knew that a hip replacement was in his near future, we decided to see the fjords in Norway, and traveling by small cruise ship seemed like the ideal way to do it.  After researching the internet and talking to friends, we chose a two-week itinerary on the Seabourn line, embarking and disembarking in Copenhagen, Denmark, and traveling through the Fjords as far north as the North Cape, which is above the Arctic Circle.  We stopped at different ports in both directions and had four scenic and reading days at sea, which we enjoyed. Thanks to the ship's small size, we were able to get deep into many fjords, even managing a 360 degree turnaround at the head of the very narrow Trollfjord. 

The following are photographs and commentary from our trip, including a series of images of the Norwegian section of the EuroVelo, a network of popular bicycling routes throughout Europe.




ONE OF MANY BEAUTIFUL FJORDS


A day in Sognefjorden and the fishing village of Flam

"Do you live in Flam?" I asked the woman sitting next to me on the train, as we started our ascent to Myrdal.   I figured she must be  local since she carried a lunch sack, and while the rest of us stared in awe at the amazing scenery around us,  she seemed rather bored. She said she lived in Flam but worked on top at Myrdal, where she rented bicycles to tourists, who preferred descending by bike rather than the train.  That's when I wished I'd researched more extensively on the train ride before buying our tickets in advance because biking down a mountain road surrounded by gorgeous alpine scenery seemed more appealing to me than returning by train.  The Flamsbana Railway, an engineering wonder, is one of the steepest train lines in the world, where almost 80% of the journey is at a gradient of 5.5%, taking you from ocean level at the end of Sognefjord in Flam to the scenic mountain top called Myrdal.  The train travels through twenty tunnels, and there are stunning waterfalls and multiple viewpoints. 






FLAMSBANA RAILWAY, A 20KM LONG ENGINEERING WONDER, STOPS IN MYRDAL





A VIEW OF THE TRAIN FROM THE TRAIN








SOGNEFJORDEN FROM STEGASTEIN VIEWPOINT, FLAM 

Bergen

Surrounded by seven hills and seven fjords, Bergen is a charming city, well known as a major northern outpost of the Hanseatic League, a 13th century trading group based in the city states of Germany.  At its height the League had over 150 member cities and was northern Europe's most powerful economic entity.  Bergen's oldest quarter runs along the eastern shore of the harbor with rows of colorful gabled buildings dating from the Hanseatic era.  Most of the day we explored the inner city, visited one of several museums and walked the wharf where we took photos in the fish market and watched performers doing their thing on city streets.


COLORFUL RESTORED HANSEATIC TRADING BUILDINGS ON BERGEN'S WATERFRONT




THIS STREET PERFORMER ATTRACTED MANY TOURISTS
COOKING UP SOME VEGETABLES AT ONE OF THE OPEN FISH MARKET RESTAURANTS



Alesund

In 1904, a massive fire burned the fishing village of Alesund. When the city was rebuilt, the Art Nouveau style of architecture was flourishing in Europe, and today's visitors to Alesund enjoy a city of concentrated Art Nouveau beauty. Spread over seven different islands and connected by bridges and undersea tunnels, Alesund relies on its fishing industry and provides cod and cod liver oil to Europe and the rest of the world.  It is also a favorite stop for tourists who either visit by car or by cruise ship, like we did.    We spent most of the day on foot exploring the picturesque town,
marveling at the elegant designs and geometric forms, but we opted to take the Hop-on Hop-off bus to the Aksla Viewpoint rather than walking the 418 steps.


BEAUTIFUL ALESUND FROM AKSLA VIEWPOINT (if you look to the left you will see the Seabourn Quest)




Lofoten Islands

Draped across the turbulent waters of the Norwegian Sea, an archipelago called the Lofoten Islands sits far above the Arctic Circle, which this time of year means 24/7 sunshine.  Arriving at the port of Solver, we rented a car and explored some of the bridge-connected islands, indented by numerous inlets and fjords.  With blue skies and a few puffy clouds, we were offered an unobstructed view of a beautiful landscape with majestic mountains, and small fishing villages where you could stay in old fishermen's cabins and eat stockfish, made from spawning cod.  


ONE OF MANY ROCKY INLETS AMONG THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS



A REAR VIEW


With our ship's onboard credit, Bruce and I decided to sign up for one of the pricey excursions.  Although this meant setting our alarm for 4:30 a.m, the opportunity to photograph puffins and other seabirds was too tempting to pass up just so we could sleep in.



A CLOSE-UP VIEW



THE NORTH CAPE (NORDKAPP)

Barren and rocky with not a tree in sight, the North Cape (or Nordkapp as it is called by Norwegians)  is a destination that many travelers brag about so they can say they traveled to the furthest northern point in continental Europe.  Although 200,000 visitors come to Nordkapp every summer, very few Norwegians actually live there year round, except for those people involved in a very robust fishing industry about which I will write a separate post.   Despite its remote location and small year-round population, the government has constructed the most amazing highway system with not a single pothole or frost heave.  From our car we could see miles and miles of empty paved roads that stretched out way beyond us.  We often saw more bicycles on those roads than cars.


DRIVING THE NORTH CAPE LANDSCAPE




TOURISTS GATHER AT THIS MONUMENT AT NORTH CAPE, WHERE THE SUN NEVER SETS FROM MID-MAY TO LATE JULY


When exploring by car,  it seemed we were always buckling and unbuckling our seat belts so we could get out and take photos.  Often we talked to the locals who lived in fishing villages, and we enjoyed chatting up self-supported cyclists, when they stopped by the side of the road to take a break.  All of the cyclists  with whom we spoke were Europeans from cities like Amsterdam, Munich and Vienna.  We never met any American cyclists, although I'm sure they were there.   These cycling athletes were touring Scandinavia and riding the EuroVelo I circuit for 30 to 60 days, all the way from their home in Europe to the North Cape.   In Norway this demanding endeavor is at least a 2500 kilometer  bicycle adventure that only the most physically and mentally fit cyclists can undertake.  It requires biking long distances daily and carrying heavy gear in panniers and packs attached to their bicycles.  This is known as self-contained cycling.   One man we talked to said he was carrying 65 pounds.  Another cyclist we saw taking a break and puffing on a Lucky Strike admitted she didn't smoke very often.  How anyone doing a ride like that could even think of smoking--even infrequently--just amazes me.


The following five images are two cyclists we saw riding above the Arctic Circle near Nordkapp.  I wish I could tell you that these photos were me biking with a friend, but you would know it wasn't true because I'm not blond nor could I pass for 50.  But truth be known, self-supported bike touring has never been something I've wanted to do, especially at this stage of my life.  Instead  I would prefer that someone transport my gear, and serve me delicious meals.  Taking a hot shower at the end of a long day in the saddle would also be required, and I've never been comfortable on the ground in a sleeping bag unless I had a blow up mattress which would be another heavy item to carry on a bike.   No one would call me high maintenance, but the moniker of princess might be appropriate when it comes to self-contained, multi-day bike tours.  



CYCLING THE EUROVELO 1 -- 2500 KILOMETERS IN NORWAY





IF THIS WERE ME I WOULDN'T BE SMILING




THIS IS WHAT IS MEANT BY SELF-CONTAINED




CYCLNG ON TOP OF THE WORLD AT NORDKAPP


THE END OF A LONG DAY IN THE SADDLE



And so I say so long to the beautiful land of the Midnight Sun.





The adventure continues..........