Category Archives: Lobster rolls

From the deep, dark, cold waters come the hard, sharp, scratchaddy, mondosects, whose anttenae, when I face them through the glass walls of the mondoquarium at the supermarket, always, always, bring to mind the please- don’t-hurt-me, deep, liquid eyes, of my sweet, departed, anxiously aberrant border collie, Ida.

Got my antenna closed, pondering what it is to be a lobster. Imagine wearing your bones on the outside. They put their lives in our hands and we put their bodies on a roll.

The lobster and the jelly fish got into a nasty fight.
Said the lobster, “Every word you spit from your source of spite
Bounces off me and sticks to you
Cause I am rubber and you are glue.”

In Amagansett, New York there is a lobster roll shack. I’d heard about it. Anticipation pumped through my veins. As we passed it on Route 27, heading to the outer east point of Long Island, I felt long, sticky lobster tentacles reach out and wrap themselves around my innermost, my most desirous, self. Alas, that shack was closed for the season.

When one door closes another one opens. Yeah, yeah, cold comfort when you have your heart set on a lobster roll.

Well, I had to eat my jaded thoughts. Had we hit the iconic lobster roll shack on Route 27, we would not have discovered Duryea’s, around the pond, down a winding road, set alone nearly, in a beachy, villagey, hilly, Montauk cottage cluster.

And did we feel smug. And snug. And happy. At Duryea’s the menu reads “Lobster Salad Roll”, a precision that cued purity. As limited as my lobster roll expertise may be, I do know that the lobster should be essentially plain – no mayonnaise, no celery, no salady stuff. And I do love a lobster salad roll. At the shore. In the wind. This lobster salad roll was so delicious.

The chips were delicious. And the slaw. At the risk of diminishing my praise, I could have eaten the plate with pleasure. Another tired aphorism: appetite is the best seasoning.