So why are Officers Lariz and Smith looking so pleased? It could be because they are making some extra money working the Lobsterfest detail on Duval Street this past Saturday. Or it could be because they wanted their mugshots on Key West Diary.
They were feeling the heat standing in front of the Bull at Caroline Street, while some of the lobsters at the street fair were, temporarily doing quite well in a tank of seawater on a very hot August afternoon with temperatures hitting 100 degrees (38C):
The fate of the lobsters is an unhappy one at Lobsterfest, as they destined for a paper plate, boiled or grilled but either way they aren't scheduled to survive the day:
It's quite the scene on Duval Street with shade tents set up on the west side of the street for five blocks, and each place offers Florida lobster provided, according to the Citizen newspaper by my favorite fish place, Fishbusterz on Stock Island.
Traditionally Key West is starting to go dead in August, as American kids are planning their return to school, and Europeans are the mainstay of tourism until September arrives and the town dies down completely. This year Key West is working harder than ever to attract visitors with lower room rates and well organized events. It seems to be working. At this street fair, lobster was on the menu but Arts and Crafts were in a close second place:
Lobster mini season saw several amateur divers lose their lives hunting for lobster. Now the commercial season has kicked in and fishermen are sounding gloomy about their prospects. A year ago Florida lobster sold for $7 a pound, the rate this year is around $3 according to the Citizen newspaper.and the fishermen say they need more than $4 a pound to make any kind of money at all. Nevertheless the lobster exact their revenge. This incautious cook dunked his hand in boiling water with predictable results:
The popularity of this event is amazing to me, who doesn't much relish lobster. I caused some annoyance once by describing lobster meat as string cheese with a fish flavor. So I eat it with relish when it is offered to me as a treat... but I'm not like these folk crowded on Charles Street enjoying their meals in the open air under the benign eye of Officer Carson:
Not tempted by the nature of the food I strolled around taking pictures and watching the hustling crowds. It was good to see Key West acting busy:
It would be remiss of me not to note the stands devoted to good works, which show up in the midst of the acres of commerce:
But the real deal here is eating the crustacean of course, and not necessarily while sitting down:
Me? I prefer to sit and eat as God intended, round the campfire tearing the meat off the bone with bare hands. Or failing that, plastic cutlery:
Florida lobster aren't like the more familiar Maine type that have the big claws. These things look like over sized crawfish and they are pretty much defenseless. They hole up under rocks and are usually spotted when their antennae can be seen sticking out of the hole. Then the intrepid diver goes in with a stick and wiggles them out. Left unmolested they can live to be 120 years old.
City Commissioner Mark Rossi owns Rick's bar and he was out in the street waving his tongs around and i think it was probably more fun doing that than deep frying conch fritters in this heat:
And at some point even the most avid lobster eater has enough and needs to sit back and reflect on what went before:
Good friends, good eats:
And here we have a group of future leaders of America getting ready to chow down:
For me it was time to get to the salt mines and spend a night keeping Key West safe; Officer Smith was still there, still chatting cheerfully with the visitors, keeping things cheerful at Lobsterfest:
I can't help but think I probably should have tried a grilled lobster kebab, at least one, with some melted butter and an ice cold soda. I'm such a puritan.
There is a deli in the Villages retirement community, in Lady Lake in North Florida, that had my wife salivating. It turns out Toojay's is a chain and they have an outlet as far as south as Fort Lauderdale and I expect we will be paying them a visit in the future. 
Nancy a long time resident of Big Pine Key wanted to bring my wife to dinner here and get her opinion on the place. No one cared about my opinion, not least because I'm not Jewish and I'm not that discriminating when it comes to a disgusting dish like chopped chicken livers:
The white specks are, I am reliably informed, chicken fat. You spread some of the mush on a piece of rye bread, add a raw onion ring and chow down making appreciative noises, which don't come easily to me when faced with my least favorite meat dish. I would walk a long way from the camp fire to avoid eating liver. Apparently these two got this dish as a special treat from their grandparents as kids and it brings back happy memories. I remember homemade pesto pasta and eggs fried in olive oil and fried rice balls which make me happy to have grown up in Italy.
My wife likes to tell me what to photograph from time to time, so instead of me photographing my impressions I end up taking a picture of what she thinks is important. Apparently this soda is the authentic accompaniment to the meals of her youth. "Can't go to a Jewish deli and not have a cream soda." she mumbled though her chicken liver. We had diet versions because we are middle aged. 
Nancy got some elaborate brisket sandwich which came grilled with cheese and I had a taste and it was delicious even to the palate of an uninformed goy. My wife got corned beef, rolls of meat balanced between two thick pieces of rye bread (what else). She got on with the job of disassembling it and rebuilding it to her taste. She has to modify all of her food with sauces and mustards:
I woofed my pastrami as it was, plain and simple between more rye bread and it was excellent.
When we lived in California the highlight of a trip to visit Uncle Hy in Los Angeles was a stop at Junior's Deli on Westwood Boulevard, which is a one off restaurant that has been around for half a century. It was the first time I'd been to a Jewish restaurant/deli and it remains the benchmark in my mind for what one should look like. I have to say Toojay's is a pretty close imitation. Not only was the food piled up on our plates the same way, the take out counter looked very similar:
The decorations were of the kind one expects in a chain I suppose, even though service lived up to billing:
The waitress who looked after us tried to talk me out of my chosen "dessert" and though she failed I appreciated her honesty. I have long wanted to try something called an egg cream drink. I know it has neither eggs nor cream but I wanted to see what milk, soda water and chocolate sauce tasted like mixed together. Perhaps I should have grown up in the greater New York City area to be able to appreciate this concoction, but despite the presence of chocolate and milk it was an utterly repulsive drink. It tasted dry and chalky despite looking like a milk shake with a big white froth on the top.I sucked it up for two mouthfuls, and as predicated by the waitress, I gave up. She laughed, and I gave her an extra big tip for her honesty. Had I really wanted dessert I should have ordered one these small mountains of cake:
But my wife saved the night by ordering some arugula to go and I got my chocolate fix at home.
I like to tell my wife that Jewish food is all brown or white- gravy, meat, potatoes, WHITE fish, and so forth. She says beet soup is red, I argue that's a Russian dish. The best place to have this debate is in a place like Toojay's. I look forward to our next discussion.
Now here's one unlikely looking granddad, but apparently ex-bikers are welcome at the Villages: 
The Villages is a surprising variant on the theme of adult living. It houses nearly 10,000 people ( all white as far as I could see) and until the recession struck was growing at a nice clip. They allow people under 55 to stay for up to 30 days a year and the development has attracted a number of shops and chains which attract people like our friend Nancy who lives twenty miles away in Ocala. When she gave me my instructions over the phone where to find her and my wife she said "Drive down the street and when you see people dancing turn right..." I thought she meant a mural. She meant this:
It's a Florida stereotype, the place where people come to die unencumbered by family or chattels, they and their secure defined benefit pensions have a secure gated community to enjoy their common interests. Despite the soaring architecture this sort of place would feel like a prison to me:
Even though apparently they get up to more than shopping and golf. Gossip is apparently high on the list of activities and the local health department reported a while back that the Villages has the highest reported rate of sexually transmitted diseases of any community in the region. Indeed they blame the increase on the availability of Viagra weirdly enough. 
Happily I was there to meet the wife and Nancy for dinner, not to shop so I formed no opinion about the stores but I was completely entranced by the place.
I didn't get to drive around the miles of residentially neighborhoods that do exist in the hinterlands but the downtown plaza itself looked like a movie set:
You almost expect management to remove the facades each month and have a different themed plaza for the resident's entertainment. I thought the faux Spanish Colonial look could be replaced perhaps by Red Square or Piccadilly Circus next month.
And in case you were wondering mosquitoes have been banned from the property, as a precaution you understand. I never saw anyone doing anything as gauche as slapping themselves or bleeding from the ankle.
I was disappointed to see a group of youngsters hanging out at the ticket booth of the movie theater (Glenn Ford, Hedi Lamar and Peter Lorre were all absent from the marquee- only 21st century tripe was on offer). I thought perhaps the seniors would get an early start on their Viagra fueled evening with a swift grope at the movies just like when they were kids.
If you ever find yourself south of Ocala on Highway 27 and see this bridge crossing the highway (it's a golf cart crossing to the northern portion of the Villages) do yourself a favor and turn south for a quick visit to the other Florida, the Sunshine State sold in brochures as the ideal winter home and retirement home known as God's antechamber.
I will definitely force Nancy to drag us back the next time we're in the area. And don't forget to turn right where people are dancing. Every community should include such Hansel and Gretel instructions.
