Kitchen carnage

"What should we do this afternoon?” I enquired.  After a morning watching a mediocre England play Switzerland against a rainy backdrop, I wasn’t exactly buoyed up to go bounding about.  I surprised myself: “how about we go down to Bills and get a lobster for dinner?” “Sure” says Jerry, already lacing his shoes.  He really ought to disagree with me sometimes; neither of us knows how to cook lobster. 

I’ve tank-shopped at Bills, an unassuming fishmonger hidden amongst Chinese grocers on Gerrard Street’s mini-Chinatown, but never had the courage to buy anything. We dillied in front of the ice laden trays of fish and dallied by the tanks of live lobster.  I was seconds away from copping out and buying some safe tuna steaks, when I saw some less intimidating, but still live prawns.  They looked like something I could handle. We might actually have a pan big enough for them. They were Spot Prawns, fresh from the British Columbia coast, and only in season for a short while.  I felt a little privileged. Bills lady said to cook them simply, put them in a bowl with wine and let them drink it for a few minutes, (I wasn’t sure what the purpose of this was, was it a marinade or to get them drunk so their death would be less excruciating?) then pan fry with garlic just for 2 minutes, no more.  “I was thinking of adding chilli, parsley and some lemon zest”.  She nodded in agreement.  “Just remember to suck out the heads.  It’s the best bit.”

We made a quick side visit to one of the Chinese grocers for lemons and eggs (I’d attempted to make banana oat muffins in the morning but stopped short at the instruction to crack in one egg), and up to that point I’d been confidently carrying the bag of critters, secure in the knowledge that there were three layers of packaging they’d have to claw through to escape. In the queue the ruckus started. There was in-fighting within the plastic and the bag began to shake. I set the bag down.  Ignoring them would make them behave. Jerry rolled his eyes and silently took the bag.  He’d deal with their death; I’d worry about chopping garlic and chilli.

We got them home and tipped their frolicking bodies into an icy bath.  That shut them up….a little bit too permanently.  The iced temperatures had killed them prematurely. Relieved I wouldn’t have to combat their escape attempts, I sliced up about 4 good sized garlic cloves, one long red chilli, grated the zest of a lemon and chopped a good handful of parsley. I let the chilli and garlic sizzle in some butter and olive oil for a few minutes before pouring in a glass of white wine and letting it bubble away for a minute or two more. The prawns were then packed into the pan and covered as they cooked for two to three minutes. I added some final colour with the parsley and lemon zest before swirling some cooked pasta through the sauce and serving. They are the creamiest prawns I’ve ever had. The heads have a hidden pocket of brain goo that’s like concentrated lobster bisque. Just like the lady from Bills said. It’s the best part.