Oh, guys. I just polished off a 1.25 pound, fire-grilled lobster drenched in garlic butter at the Barking Crab in Boston, the city that will become our new home at the end of the year. Husband looked on with a mixture of love, awe, and disgust as I sent butter, cracked shell, and juices flying all over the place in my attempt to dig out every last morsel of meat.
If he was baiting me, it worked. Hook, line, and sinker.
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