Leftovers. I love them. After an outrageous Saturday date night eating spicy grilled shrimp, 30 day dry-aged steaks, broiled lobster tail, and a dozen oysters on the half shell (not including the cheesecake we ordered, as we both only managed a single bite each), we left Queue de Cheval with not an insignificant amount of leftover lobster. Half a pound, at least. By the way, that restaurant is out of control.
I’ve been brainstorming all morning how to utilize this precious crustacean gold — omelet? pasta? buried underneath puff pastry? risotto? — and all I can think about is my mother’s brilliantly fluffy-yet-crispy fried rice. Her fried rice ingredients are always slightly different depending on the mood she’s in, and the last iteration I enjoyed had huge pieces of lump crab and lobster in it. I’m not even going to try to imitate its seafaring perfection, so I think I’ll stick with the omelet.