Going crazy for a lobster

(see part two)

In telling about a dinner with unique traits, one cannot forget where the dinner itself took place. Aside from the aperitif on a pier in Hobart, the rubber boats disembarked the now chilled guests on a second, more cosy and intriguing dock. A guy like me, who knew nothing about the area, thought he had reached the waiting room of an art museum. Mistake. The intermediate stop for Chapter 2.

It was a cement esplanade, its grey lines broken by fires and embers scattered here and there, so one could get some heat, but also an open space characterised by a large orange window, nestled in a sort of patio on the opposite side to the dock, to soften the intensity of the sunset light and mime a sky on fire. Striking.

There was yet another version of fish, but also an intense, deep stock made with roasted wallaby tail, kangaroos’ little cousin, prepared by Peter Gilmore and served in terracotta cups and with the sound of ancient Aborigines’ instruments in the background, with two or three natives playing and singing tunes to which each one would give the meaning they preferred, since it is impossible to truly enter the world of the Aborigine people.

Earth, fire and water celebrated this stop, but also wine, including a prosecco produced in the King Valley, in the state of Victoria, by Dal Zotto, L’immigrante 2013. There’s plenty of Italy in that bottle, except the Venetian soil where it was born. Each one of the three chefs, instead, took care of two starters (one was already mentioned), almost all of which were perfect as finger food. For Ben Shewry, King George whiting in paperback, a silver fish that is typical of the Southern coasts of Australia, and Grilled baby corn with forest anise.

Gilmore instead, beside the wallaby stock, signed a Charcoal grilled West Australian marron with wasabi butter, where the marron does not refer to the Italian word for chestnuts, nor to marron glacé, but to a river prawn that is typical of West Australia and on this occasion was chargrilled. Unfortunately I cannot remember it because, Neil Perry, in his own turn, played my very personal ace of hearts. First the good grilled abalone from Tasmania seasoned with liver, sake and mirin, then his majesty the local lobster, chargrilled on wood embers and then seasoned with a butter aromatised with kombu weeds.

I went literally crazy with pleasure, so much so I couldn’t care less about service or etiquette. Without causing a scandal. In fact, distributing a great joy. Damn, how can I go for the first time in almost 60 years to Hobart and act like a dandy in front of a couple of kilos of crustaceans that are begging to be eaten?

This is how it worked: once the lobster was ready, a chef with asbestos hands handled it with rapid and wise movements to extract most of the pulp, season it and serve it in a large bowl. Unfortunately the best part, enclosed in the antennas and the head, remained where it was, due to a lack of time. When I could no longer resist, I asked for a carcass (and later for a second one) and removed the pulp with my hands. An infinite, authentic pleasure. A contagious gesture, as it was easy to foresee when looking at the smiles illuminating my face.

3. To be continued