I have a recurring dream.
It’s like the old “getting into heaven joke.”
St. Pete is at the pearly gates, it’s my turn in line and it’s time for the big question. I get this one right and I am in.
I’m a “fallen” Irish Catholic male. It is my heritage to assume that I will still get this last chance. Irish Catholic males have been hanging out in bars for centuries, comforted by the feel of a cold beer in one hand and the certainty of one last chance for forgiveness and redemption in the other.
My dream does not go well. I have been in the restaurant business too long, and it turns out, St. Peter is a “foodie.”
He swirls a glass of overpriced red and asks…heaven or hell in the balance…”So what’s better…lobster or foie gras?”
Tough question.
The two are probably the richest, the most delicious of all foods--the twin pillars of culinary decadence.
At first glance, the foie gras has an advantage. It has the ‘French Connection’ edge.
It was a Frenchman who decided to take an unsuspecting goose, force-feed him until he was just about dead from an overly fatty liver and then kill the goose and eat the liver. He had invented foie gras.
Serious food people, the French--arrogant about it, really—and it has gotten worse since Lance Armstrong has taken over their bicycle race. Never the less, they have a longstanding reputation for great cooking skills and foie gras’ culinary reputation is better for it.
Now, consider the poor lobster--primarily served up by Irish fishermen. It is no secret the Irish have a sturdy hold on the cellar in the world food standings. My mother’s Irish cookbook, in its entirety, read…”Take everything that walks, flies or swims over the face of the earth and boil the living bejeesus out of it.” Chapter Two was…”Add butter if you have it.”
The result is that lobster recipes are of two kinds:
Boil it.
Boil it for a really long time. Add butter.
And then, there is that famous ‘Secret for Tender Lobster’ …”Rub the back of his neck before you lower him into the boiling water. It will keep the meat from getting tough.”
Yeah, right.
Considering how it has been handled, it is amazing the lobster has a reputation for flavor at all.
We are back to St. Peter and the Pearly Gates. He has me on the ropes. Lobster…foie gras?
And then… I cast back to one of my most memorable dining experiences.
The foie gras was flash-seared and succulent. The meat from a Nova Scotia cold water lobster had been gently slow-poached in a butter and lobster broth. The two were perched on the equivalent of a culinary altar—a double chop of this world’s best Iowa lamb. The plate was trickled with a balsamic reduction, a nutmeg anglaise and a Sauternes reduction with a nuance of four spice. A side of killer rosemary port demi-glace stood guard for dipping.
The first mouthful of lobster and foie gras in company made the earth shake. My eyes closed and the universe wrenched wide open. All things were beautiful—all things were possible and everything was related. The experience was profound.
Again… St. Peter, impatient.
“Well, what is it going to be…the lobster or the foie gras?”
An ocean of silence and then…my answer. “Both! And I’ve heard the lamb is great here.”
Heaven? …Been there.