Tales of Amagansett Part 3: Lobsters
Susan and I were the “always there” weekend visitors to her twin sister’s house in Amagansett during the summer months of 1975 and 1976. There were a few exceptions. Fred and Anne came into the City for the Bi-Centennial Bash on July 4, 1976. But that’s another story.
We were assigned the loft area and from our perch observed a never-ending parade of different friends each weekend. Usually 2 sometimes 3 or 4; they would arrive Saturday midday and leave Sunday PM. Some I knew some I didn’t. Everyone was mid-twenty and looking for a day at the beach. There was one night in two years that someone got really obnoxious and Fred had to throw them out. There was a Motel to the left so it’s not like he kicked their ass to the highway. Actually, he DID kick their ass to the highway.
But mostly the festivities went the same every weekend. Saturday afternoon was at the beach. Swim, pass ball, sun, gather brush for night fire. If we carried a cooler, drink beer. Five o’clock and the guys are off to Gosman’s Dock because Everyone Wants Lobster. (Note: in researching this post I googled Gosman’s and can say it is NOTHING like I am about to describe. And a $38 Lobster Roll is not my memory of summer 1975/6). Gosman’s Dock was on a small dock where a few fishing boats would load and un-load. Gosman’s had giant coolers and a small counter service. Lobsters were in bins by size like 1-2-3 4+. 1 dollar a pound for the smallest and up to maybe 4 bucks for the 4+ and trust me there was the occasional macho friend who would insist that he needed to eat a 4-pound lobster. Back home we meet the girls, who had bought corn, butter, lemons, and beer from the Amagansett IGA just down the road to the left.
Dinner was a true symphony of tasks and smells. The Mastro of the symphony was Anne a serious task master with a mission: to provide an excellent meal of steamed lobster with corn on the cob all obscenely coated with butter. I immediately posted myself at Anne’s side cleaning the lobsters (which mostly involved twisting the head off the tail and asking the chef what she wants done with the head – NEVER ASSUME). I also shucked corn. Over the 20 or so weekends this ritual was repeated I had many discussions of to garlic of not to garlic the steaming water. Or to husk or not to husk the corn. If there are enough cooks involved just about anything you do will be dead wrong to one of them. Anne would have none of that. She’d send the hangers-on to Fred for Grill or Firepit duties.
As time went on, I successfully lobbied for an occasional Bluefish to be added to the menu. I did the prep and cooking and to this day look forward to someone calling me with a just caught Bluefish. Recipe is salt & pepper butter and lemons inside (did I mention this is a whole cleaned fish?), salt & pepper butter and lemons outside. Wrap it up with foil. Then wrap it up again. I always wrapped it a third time but Heavy duty foil is better these days that back then. Anyway, you are left with a foil football that can get thrown on a grill of on a fire for at least 40 minutes and up to 90 if you are playing and forgot about it. Open the foil carefully and the meat will fall off the bone in big chunks.
The reason I started the Bluefish is I was losing my taste for Lobster. EVERY weekend! Oh wait, if we were staying until Monday or longer we’d probably walk the short way to the Lobster Roll restaurant, just up the road to the right. At the time it was a shack with a huge “LUNCH” sign run by 2 hippies who were stoned much of the time and made great ….. you guessed it – lobster rolls. But if I were to REALLY think on this lobster thing, It’s not a taste thing. I do like the taste of buttered lobster. I think I got so used to eating my buttered lobster on a beach with a bathing suit on and having the butter pour down my chest and not caring because when I’m done, I’m jumping in the ocean and cleaning off. THAT is freedom. How do you eat lobster in a restaurant? VERY CAREFULLY with a bib on no less. No, it’s not worth all the fuss. I’ll take a salted grilled shrimp any day.
But I digress: dinner went on into darkness; the fire on the beach was either kept up or we moved into the house to the sound of constant waves dashing. We played ring-a-levio when we had a large crown. One night, Anne ran into my head and broke her nose. During that same game I fell into a sand dune and got so much sand in both eyes I was scooping it out with my finger. I found sand on my pillow for days afterward. Just a few times the crowd voted to go to a club but we mostly didn’t. Clubbing in the Hamptons even in the 70’s was expensive and we were not rich. Sunday I enjoyed cooking breakfast as long as it was eggs and toast. By this time we were all fast friends although I never saw anyone ever again. If the sun permitted it was more beaching and then our guests and maybe even Susan and I would leave for THE TRIP HOME. And TRAFFIC.
kongoboken 