Rance checks in with a postcard from the Hamptons, where he may or not may be or have been:
I was on the fence about going until he mentioned “We’d be having three-and-a-half pound lobsters at his dinner party Saturday night. I’d always thought that smaller lobsters tasted better, but Bill assured me, “That is a myth invented by poor people.” Bill fits in very well in the Hamptons, by the way. In any case, as you may have surmised from previous entries, quality has always taken a back seat to quantity for me when it comes to crustaceans. So I hit the Hamptons.
Oh yes, the lobster challenge. Rance’s friend Bill has thrown down the mighty gauntlet, or it might be the armored claw full of meat. Our friend Steve accepted a similar challenge and there was a mighty struggle, but in the end he was not the victor.
A few years ago, to celebrate my birthday, we met Steve and another friend at Bob Chinn’s for dinner.
Chinn’s is a locally famous restaurant that really should be called “eatery” – it’s not fancy, but the food is good, the portions are legendary, and somehow they manage to get a HUGE volume of people through the doors, fed and on their way each weekend. They have a unique way of making “reservations” – you call, get your name on a waitlist for a time. Then when you get to the restaurant, everybody in your party needs to be there before you can officially marked “waiting for a table.” Depending on your party’s size, you either head to the bar for Bob’s famous Mai Tais, or you line up in one of several lanes – parties of 2, parties of 4-6, parties of 8 or more. There’s still more waiting. They sell a lot of Mai Tais this way – about 850 a day according to their trivia page.
When you’re finally led into the dining room, at first you think you’ve walked into a large “shore lunch” type of restaurant at the beach: it’s casual, and the plates and salad bowls are plastic and laminated wood. Then you start to work your way through the menu, and you realize that like a good movie, most of the money is in what’s offered.
So we ordered, and during the process Steve entered into negotiations with our waitress, who like most Chinn’s servers knew her shit. The menu offered a special: Australian Spiny Lobster, market price, that you ordered by the pound – the one he ordered was 2 or 3 pounds. And the Lobster Challenge was that the menu promised “We think you’ll say that this is the best lobster you’ve ever had.”
Gauntlet thrown down! Steve’s gustatorial honor was at stake! How much does it cost per pound? HOW much? He ordered the spiny lobster. 3 pounds’ worth.
The food arrived, and aside from juicy ripping cracking shredding sounds from around the table, peace reigned. Steve’s choice was definitely spiny – it looked like a preliminary model for for an extra in the original “Alien” movie. Then Steve said something or did something to indicate that he was not compleeeeetely happy.
It seemed that after comparing the taste of his spiny lobster to some fresh Maine lobster he’d had on a trip back East, he decided that he really needed to tell the waitress on her next pass by the table that, in fact, it wasn’t the best lobster he’d ever had. But in spite of her offer to take it back, he said that it was still very good and he’d keep eating, but she needed to know that in his opinion, it really wasn’t the best.
About this time he shared his opinion that Bob Chinn would be a scary guy to encounter someday because he might have “connections,” and possibly know guys who for a consideration would take a person out back to have their opinions, and their kneecaps, re-arranged.
After a few minutes of nervous joking, we became aware of a serene presence standing at the table. Where did this Chinese man wearing a signature “Mai Tai and fish” aloha shirt come from? It was indeed Mr. Chinn, come to inquire into the matter personally.
“I hear you don’t like my lobster.” This was delivered in a genial, even warm tone.
Suddenly the rest of us became very interested in our food. There was a pause.
Steve gamely started to explain his point of view. It was clear that two masters were debating the finer points of lobster (with the spiny beast on the table, there were a lot of points to discuss). Steve again declared he was enjoying the lobster, but in his opinion the menu listing had overstated the case. Mr Chinn countered with an offer to take away the offending lobster and bring back something prepared with his own hands, perhaps some wonderful Kona crab that he would select personally. Oh, no, Steve replied, really that’s not necessary (or words to that effect). Mr Chinn suggested that in that case he hoped that Steve would enjoy the rest of his lobster. Then he disappeared.
Steve admitted then that he felt obligated to finish as much of the lobster as physically possible, because to leave a significant portion uneaten would constitute an insult. Unfortunately, the thing was huge, and he wasn’t up to the task and looked a little miserable at the thought.
Then Mr. Chinn reappeared – bearing a small plate of Kona crab. Yes, he wanted Steve to try it and see if he’d rather have a full portion brought out. Steve again demurred, but Mr Chinn insisted that he at least try it and share it around – it was a pretty healthy portion as it was. Then Mr Chinn left for the last time.
At this point Steve, looking very uncomfortable, set to with the remains of his spiny adversary and begged us to help him eat it and the remaining Kona crab. Once he’d eaten enough (groaning a bit) to feel that he’d be able to leave the field of battle with a shred of honor intact, he as much as admitted that he’d been bested.
You have to know that Steve loves a good argument and is prepared to defend his position until his opponent is dropping with fatigue, or until they say “Oh, okay, whatever. If I say you’re right, can we stop talking about this now?”
But in this case, he said “When you’re up against someone who is extreeeeeeemely genial,” it’s hard to keep the argument going. David remarked “No can defense” and Steve laughed, a little uncomfortably.
Best birthday dinner, ever. Hands down. And no, I don’t think I’ll ever order spiny lobster – those things are just too damn weird-looking.
