It takes about 27 seconds, four fluid motions, and a few swings of a blunt object, for Jose Castanada to prepare a freshly-boiled lobster for the plate.
One cut, lengthwise, down the lobster’s tail; a twist, separating the tail from the torso; a yank, removing both claws at once; and a pull, separating the top shell from the bottom, exposing the soft, white inner meat.
Then, Castanada grabs his chef’s knife to attack the claws — a quick cut to snap the rubber band holding the pincers together, and then a few smacks from the blunt edge of the blade to crack it open.
It’s a messy job. Each swing of his knife punches out a small spray of lobster meat, and he barely pauses to wipe the meat from his face. At this point, he doesn’t notice it. His customers do, of course. Many adults jump back in surprise, and laugh at themselves, while their children cross their arms, making contorted, disgusted faces.
After four hours of working the Cracking Booth at the Redondo Beach Lobster Festival, he’s still moving quickly — his fastest observed time was around 24 seconds; his longest, just under 30. That doesn’t count the time he paused to ask visibly grossed-out kids whether or not they wanted to eat the green gunk (known as tomalley) oozing out of the critter’s carapace.
Castanada, of Costa Mesa, has worked in various capacities at Redondo’s annual Lobster Festival for the past four years, though he generally works back of house — barbacking and as a busboy — at his two restaurant jobs.
How many “I don’t know…about a thousand?”
He looked back at the ever-extending line of about fifteen patrons, each holding at least one lobster, and often surrounded by family.
“They just keep on coming, you know?” ER
