His name is Pinche. Pronounced "pinchey". Nevermind that "pinche langosta" in spanish pretty much means...well... it's not very nice. Or PC. But it's not at all an uncommon kitchen phrase.
We got this crustacean at QFC where they were having a sale. He's from Maine, and considering that a bunch of the seafood there comes from the Dominican Republic or Vietnam or Taiwan (gotta love the new origin labeling laws) this lobster is practically local!
He's also alive. I tried to get the cat to play with him but the cat was having none of it. Weird cat.
To dismember a lobster, you stab it in the back at the first tail joint and then pull the tail off. Supposedly the bits that emerge are tasty, but also potentially toxic. I didn't eat them.
When you flay the upper portion open, it looks like a dissection or a dinner place. Technically, it's both. The creepy part? The heart KEEPS BEATING.
My favorite sous-chef friend broiled half the tail, and we ate that on its own, and then he made some stock. Sautee shells in olive oil until bright red, deglaze with brandy. Add enough water to cover, add a pinch of cayenne and a pinch of saffron. Steam the shells over this stock. Pull a cup and a half of stock out to add to pasta water to flavor the pasta, and then cook the rest of the stock down to form a sauce.
Pasta + lobster meat + sauce + grated ewephoria cheese + bread to soak up the sauciness: