Last night we broke out our trusty lobster pot for the first time this year. With guests in for a visit, we needed to properly welcome them to Maine with a traditional lobster dinner.
Pretty much every household in Maine has a lobster pot. They get handed down from generation to generation, or passed along to new people who are moving into the area. We got our pot using the latter method. We bought it at an estate sale, which is about right: Mainers typically won’t let go of a good lobster pot until the Grim Reaper gives them no say in the matter.
The lobster pot has one essential function: to hold huge quantities of water, and lobsters, until the water can be brought to a boil and the lobsters properly cooked. Our pot, which has the kind of size and industrial appearance you’d expect to see in a kitchen of an army base, serves its role admirably. I have no idea how much water it holds, but it’s enough.
An important part of the whole lobster preparation process is turning the stovetop burners to high and then patiently but expectantly waiting for those uncounted gallons of salty water to come to a boil so the cooking can really begin.
You don’t watch the pot during that time period, of course.