When I asked Vince if this was an appropriate title for this post, his answer (without hesitation) was a flat out “yes.”
I might have deserved it. Just a bit.
Here is the reason.
These are lobster rolls that I made using this recipe. On her way back to Toronto from Halifax, a friend at work picked up several freshly steamed lobster (which are sold at the airport no less) for those of us that had
begged for requested them. I was lucky to get two of them and was excited for Vince and I to have some fancy lobster risotto.
So how, do you ask, did we end up with lobster rolls and I became the worst wife ever? Let me, sadly, explain.
The evening we were supposed to make our fancy lobster dinner, Vince had to work a crazy shift from 6pm to 4am. But we both knew something had to be done with it that night so it wouldn’t end up going bad.
Loving husband and expert lobster cleaner that he is (Vince works the fish station at his full time gig), he offered to clean it during the day so that I could do something with it that didn’t involve any cooking.
Read: lobster rolls.
Here’s where I became the worst wife ever.
1. I thought that since Vince was going to be home at 5am that he wouldn’t be eating any lobster until late into the next day when he woke up and that it might have gone bad by that point.
2. Two lobsters seemed like a whole lot to eat all by myself and so I asked my mom to come over for dinner so that at least none of it would go to waste.
3. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if Vince nibbled on lobster as he cleaned it – he
sometimes usually snacks as he eats, and when I saw the amount of lobster that was in the bowl, it seemed so little that I thought he’d had some.
Turns out two lobsters actually can yield that amount of meat.
Basically what happened is that I made 4 of these delicious rolls – 2 for my mom…
… and 2 for me.
They were delicious!
Who said that?!
The next day Vince asked where his lobster rolls were and after we sorted out the above misunderstandings and assumptions made on my part, I hung my head in shame.
As the worst wife ever.
Especially when I had to watch my poor husband use the remaining hot dog buns…
…to eat hot dogs.