By Anne DesBrisay
It’s lobster season: time to walk around town with a bib on, ’cause you just never know when the craving for the red backed crustacean’s gonna bite.
It had been my plan to check out May’s weekday lunch deal — but the offerings seemed a bit ordinary — and I happened to spy the notice of specials on the white board.
The only item written in english read “fresh lobster with ginger and onion or spicy” —Market Price. I asked the price. Twenty dollars and ninety five cents. Sold.