AficioNada

What happens when a talented winemaker from Maine tells you - over a pitcher of margaritas - that his mom shipped him a couple dozen live Maine lobsters (the shipping evidently cost more than the lobsters), 'why don't you come over on Saturday and have yourselves a lobster feast?' If Saturday happens to be a game weekend, you tell him he can bring the lobsters to you.

Which is exactly what he did. Along with a bottle of 1996 Salon and a couple of friends. Our game day suddenly seemed so fancy. 

To be honest, we weren't sure they were going to show, so I was frying up some green tomatoes at SEC HQ-West when the boys walked in with a large box stuffed with slowly fidgety lobsters. While the guys dug up some suitable lobster pots and set to work boiling two dozen moderately lively crustaceans, I nibbled on a bowl of lobster claws, stuffed my nose in my flute of Salon, and contemplated what we were going to do with all those tomatoes I'd intended to fry (some conundrums are so much better than others).

The answer was obvious. I was going to finish frying them, and we were going to do lobster rolls the Southern way - stuffed with homemade slaw, lobster tail and claw, and fried green tomatoes.

Most lobster roll lovers are minimalists. After all, why would anyone want to dim, dilute or cover up pure lobster deliciousness with heavy condiments? My only response to this is 'why not?.'  I realize this is the thin foodie-equivalent of 'because I said so,' so you can imagine how delighted - and relieved - I was to discover that the tart green tomatoes played so nicely with the sweet cream lobster flesh.  

It didn't take long for our feast to come together. The boys showed up at four, and by six we had ourselves one fine-lookin' buffet. The only thing missing was the wine. One bottle of Salon spreads pretty thin among six friends. When those friends are all in the wine industry, however, it's an easily remedied situation. Rhett ran downstairs and retrieved a few bottles of village wine from Macon (Burgundy, not Georgia) he had stashed in his closet. Moments later, we gathered around the dining table and enjoyed what had become a wonderfully rich afternoon.

Champagne, football, lobsters and fried green tomatoes. Sigh. Some Saturdays are just meant to be decadent.