An Exaltation of Soups (28 page)

THE WHAMMY
L
OBSTER
S
WEETHEART
S
OUP

Serves 2

W
HEN THERE’S NOTHING
too good for your baby, this may be just the labor of love you’re looking for. It is mightily extravagant, a pain to make, and definitely worth it. Serve this red-and-white Valentine Special bubbly hot, with crusty bread and Champagne, preferably by candlelight.

Now, how do you get this clattery crustacean ready for the soup pot? Easy. Whether you steam the lobster yourself or pick it up from the grocery steamer, start by putting your cooked lobster flat on its back on a plate (to catch the juices). Take a pair of scissors and cut from the bottom of the tail straight up its top shell, through the body, to the center of the head (but not through the eyes). Turn the lobster over and cut the same way through the other side of the shell. Now you should be able to cut the lobster in half lengthwise, from bottom to top, except still attached at the head. Break the shell apart at the head to open it up. You’ll see the stomach sack—on one side or the other—right under the eyes (it’s about an inch long). Twist it out with your fingers and throw it away. Also pull out the long intestinal vein that goes down the length of the lobster from the sac to the tail. Throw it away, too.

Now to work: scoop the green tomalley, or liver, located in the chest, into a small bowl. You will want to cream this with soft butter later on to serve with the bread. If you have a female lobster (she’ll have hairy paddles under the legs instead of pointy sticks), you may find orangey roe—just add this to the tomalley or keep separate for its own butter.

Dismember the rest of the lobster over the plate (to catch the juices), separating claws, joints, legs, chest halves, and tail halves. Cut the meat away from the tail, the joints, and the claws and set aside. Save the shells.

1. Prep the ingredients as directed in the recipe list, including dismembering of the lobster (see headnote).

2. Make the lobster cream garnish: cut away any red markings on the reserved lobster tail half, mince it finely, then puree in a blender with the vermouth, salt and pepper, and enough cream to make a thick sauce. Set aside.

3. Make the tomalley and/or orange roe butter: soften 2 tablespoons of butter for each. Cream the tomalley and butter together and pack into a small ramekin; likewise for the roe butter. Refrigerate until you are ready to use it.

1. Melt the butter in a large saucepan over low heat and stir in the finely chopped vegetables. Cover and sweat slowly for 6 to 8 minutes. Be careful not to brown them.

2. Film the bottom of a Dutch oven with oil, heat to medium high, then add the lobster shells (see headnote). Toss them around
in the pot for about 4 minutes, then reduce the heat to low. Salt and pepper the shells, turn again, then pour in any saved lobster juice, the vermouth, chopped tomatoes with their juice, bay leaf, garlic, cayenne, and sautéed vegetables. Cover the pot and simmer over low heat for 30 minutes. Remove the shells and bay leaf and puree the soup.

3. Cut the reserved lobster meat into chunks.

4. Place the soup in a large saucepan and add the lobster chunks. Season with salt and pepper, then bring to a simmer over low heat.

Ladle this beautifully colored soup into flat soup plates and swirl the white lobster cream in the middle of each. Slice through the cream with the flat side of a knife in a few directions to create an abstract design. Voilà. Serve with crusty bread slathered with those heavenly tomalley and roe butters.

THE DOUBLE WHAMMY
O
YSTER
C
REAM
S
OUP WITH
L
EMONY
C
ARROTS

Serves 2

O
YSTERS HAVE, APPARENTLY
, always been linked with love. When Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, sprang forth from the sea on an oyster shell and promptly gave birth to Eros, the word
aphrodisiac
was born. The ancient Greeks served oysters with wine. Roman emperors paid for them by their weight in gold and sent thousands of slaves to the shores of the English Channel to gather them. Centuries later, Casanova himself would start the evening meal by eating twelve dozen oysters—144 of them!—fortifying himself for the evening’s pleasures. Oysters themselves are coy about sex, so discreet that you can’t tell a boy from a girl from the outside, and they even transform inside their shells, changing from male to female and back again during their life span. And how long may that be? As long as ten to twenty years.

This is a good recipe when you know you won’t be sitting down past the first course. It’s bursting with plump oysters, many layered in its brothy sophistication, and eye-catching with its tart carrots and earthy basil. It needs only a little crusty bread and wine to fill you up and get you through the night.