To me, the first spiny lobster plucked from the California Pacific on the first Wednesday of October is as important as the first pitch at Petco Park in March. That is, VERY important.
Arriving home from vacation over the weekend, we dashed out Saturday night to Rimel’s Rotisserie in downtown La Jolla for a lobster extravaganza. The lobster, split and grilled over mesquite wood and topped with lip-smacking salsa fresca, was tender and moist, with a lovely sweetness and unmistakable fresh ocean flavor.
Served with a little tub of melted butter, black beans, lemon wedges, rice and warm flour tortillas, it was worth waiting seven months for --- the season ends each year on the first Wednesday after March 15th.
Also known as California spiny lobster, this cousin of the Maine lobster has razor-like bumps on its carapace and two long spiny antennae, but no large claws. Found in the waters off southern- and mid- California and Mexico’s Baja California, this species is usually about 12 inches long when they hit the restaurant plate.
Actually, I had waited two years for my Saturday feast. I didn’t get a single local lobster last year because the prices were prohibitive (40 bucks and up for a half-lobster dinner) and the availability was next to nothing. My seafood sources, a couple of local fishermen and fish market owners, told me that Japanese buyers snatched up the local catches and paid sky-high prices for them, leaving little for local merchants.
I don’t know what the dynamics of that dance are this year,
but I’m thrilled that the lobsters are out there, and they are of top quality.
I paid $39.95 for the whole lobster (about 1 ½ pounds) dinner at Rimel’s.
The next night I paid $35 for a whole lobster dinner (pictured above) at The Fishery in nearby Pacific Beach. Two lobster pig-outs on two nights in a row --- sheer heaven.
The Fishery calls its whole spiny lobster “Puerto Nuevo-style,” meaning that it’s cooked after the fashion popularized in Puerto Nuevo, a dirt-road town about a half hour south of Tijuana, Mexico.
In truth, The Fishery’s preparation is far more sophisticated than that of Puerto Nuevo, where the cheek-by-jowl eateries often pop lobsters into smoking vats of lard and serve them alongside frijoles fried in lard. At The Fishery my spiny beast was dusted with a house blend of four types of chili powder, poached whole, split, and finished on the grill. Each chunk that emerged from the shell was charred on the top, but emphatically juicy underneath. The salsa fresca --- tomato, onion, jalapeno, cilantro – had just the right bite. The pinto beans were served in a crisp, fluted tortilla shell, dusted with cotija cheese.
When I was little, growing up in Boston, a Maine lobster dinner was considered the ultimate luxury. Two dinners in two nights was like Christmas coming early.
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