The Wall of Lobster

Recently (okay, be specific:  On the 4th of July, George M. Steinbrenner‘s 80th birthday–  not that there’s anything wrong with that—  in Durham, Maine) I hit the Wall of Lobster.

En Francais, that’s ‘le Mur de Homard,’ but you may well be asking yourself, What  the hell is that in English?  How exactly does one hit the Wall of Lobster?

Last year's festivities.

Well, several key elements are needed:  First of all, the opportunity.  Some dear family friends (truly, friends of the blog, of good times on foreign Islands, like family) hold an annual 4th of July party that features, amongst other impressive delicacies, one pound Maine lobsters.  Cooked, cracked and stacked in coolers by the caterers, with little Dixie cups of butter.  Cooler after cooler, as many as you think you can eat.

Well.  I am a huge devourer of lobsters, going back to my younger days on the Island, in which my father would bring an impossibly large creature out to the deck, and we would “play” with this doomed vermin before he was steamed alive and devoured by a bunch of family and friends in a rented summer home’s dining room.

You also need, of course, a limitless stomach for shellfish, an iron constitution (as long as you don’t throw gin into the mix), and a disposition towards awesome.

It should go without saying I posses all three of these ingredients, and last year on America’s birthday I set the bar high, out to break a mutual friend’s record, and I consumed nine one pound lobsters.  I also drank a bottle of chardonnay, two margaritas, and topped that off with a burger, a brownie, and late-night slices of pizza.  I have never felt better.

And so it shall be.

This year (I’ve been watching what I eat, I’ve been watching what I drink, I go to the gym in the mornings—  I’ve never felt worse) the simple goal was to break my own record.  I started strong, in fact I had a light breakfast (English breakfast tea, water, small bowl of oatmeal just to line the stomach) and came hungry; indeed, I was chompin’ at the bit to begin.  I put down a beer or two and dug in:  First lobster, undeniably delicious.  I made quick work of numbers two, three and four, in fact, at an idyllic picnic table under a tree, chatting with friends and handily availing myself of the roll of paper towels.  I digested langoustine number five and decided to take a short break.

I had one of their famous and tasty burgers to cleanse the palate, and perhaps this was where I went wrong.  After another cold one (and, yes, a bottle of water) I was able to put down numbers six, seven and eight, but I never captured the same momentum.  Number nine went down with a fight.

And then I hit it, a place I’d heard tell of but never truly believed existed:  The Wall of Lobster.  I couldn’t do number ten, much as I wanted to.  Egged on by new friends and the running tally, number ten seemed totally impossible.  It was one crustacean too many.

Alas, this is no Cinderella story; I have no inspiring tale of being the Jimmy Chitwood of competitive eating.  Number nine was the Wall of Lobster.  (I did manage two more tasty burgers, washed down with yet another ale.)

Well, I thought, giving myself a bit of a pat on the back:  How many people can truly say they’ve hit the Wall of Lobster?

Alvy and Annie.

Advertisements

2 Responses to “The Wall of Lobster”

  1. Chelsea Says:

    We believe in you, Wally! There’s always next year!

  2. Off- Off- Off- Broad-WAY « Wally's Blog Says:

    […] By thiswaytotheegress The show opens this Thursday, friends so you won’t get your normally pithy tales this week as we work to refine the production.  (However, if you’re anywhere in the metro […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: