Sorry to bother you again with the lobster bisque (see previous post).
But we did a kind of ballet in the kitchen, Cranky and I.
I'm so proud. And I'm still burping happy, creamy, little oceanic burps.
It was that good.
Cranky created the serious backbone for our soup. He boiled the shells and aromatics in a make-do broth of whatever was on hand. I can't believe how red and crustacean-y it turned out. He didn't know how good he could be.
Then he stepped away from the stove and I took over.
I made a roux; cooked it well so it didn't taste raw, but it stayed blond. I stirred in lobster stock, just so, whisking.
Poured the lobster "bechamel" back into the rest of the stock, and added a few blorps of cream. And a slug of sherry. Oh, a couple of gratings of nutmeg, too.
I ladled the soup into the new bowls, and tossed in the fine-diced lobster meat. (It sank; not visible in photo.)
We are so impressed by our collaboration.