There is a great seafood market and shop in Ormond. Hull’s is one of many reasons husband and I get exited about coming here. The seafood is really, really fresh. You can’t find seafood this fresh in a predominantly land-locked state. Don’t get me wrong; you can find fresh seafood in Georgia but it’s not the same. Seafood always tastes better at the sea. It has been said more than a time or two that when you eat seafood it should smell like the ocean, and that’s easy to do when you are at the ocean. Imagine that.
We took the boys to Hull’s yesterday afternoon to pick out dinner. We wanted lobster but didn’t think the condo had a vessel large enough to cook the crustacean. We settled on scallops; big, fresh scallops. And they were delicious! I found this recipe*
and yum! Husband cooked last night and any scallop that isn’t overcooked wins my vote. Husband has a tendency to overcook scallops which is why I tend to avoid them but last night he cooked the scallops to perfection. It was relatively easy to make, too. Of course, I wasn’t doing the cooking so I could be wrong. The only real fault of this recipe is the butter. Lots and lots of butter. But we easily justified this splurge since we’re on vacation. The boys loved dinner, too, and I love that they eat lots of different things.
Today we will dine on lobster. Little Mister is beyond excited about this. Of course, before we get to the main course we have to get through the day. So far it’s gone something like this….
Husband and Little Mister went to Kennedy Space Center today; leaving me at the condo with Q Man. He and I went to the beach and he
screeched fussed. We walked on the beach and his Fred Flintstone foot found the sharp edge of a seashell. He started sobbing. I carried him back to our towel and bucket. We filled the bucket with sand and dumped it out. After the fifteen millionth time Q Man started screeching fussing about that and took off towards the pool.
So we hose off the sand, I pick up the little dude and we get into the pool. The cold pool. Cold pool + fussy toddler = big mess. So we get out and head back into the condo, get out of our beach gear and hang out for a bit.
At first Q Man totally goes for it. He has a bev and a nosh and all is well. He changes the channel on the television. He plays with the phone that we unplugged for him. He plays with toys. I start to think, okay, I can absolutely hang out in a strange place that is completely NOT childproofed for an entire day with my kid (he did, however, find the glass cleaner that I needed and kept overlooking). I have no car but I have the beach, beach paraphernalia, a stroller and vodka (thanks, Uncle Chuck!).
screeching fussing starts again. I load Q Man in Bob – it’s a BOB stroller that we refer to as Bob – have to keep it easy for husband. Naming the stroller Frank would have really confused and/or irritated him. We head a mile down the street to Publix. We get there but didn’t go in because I didn’t bring my wallet. I was rushing around trying to get out of the condo that I forgot the darn thing and we may need an afternoon activity. It’s good to always keep your options open. At least I remembered water, right? And my phone. In case of emergency. Not that my emergency contact is anywhere near here. My In Case of Emergency person is an hour away with the four year old checking out space ships, having fun and doing cool stuff.
Me. I’m entertaining the screecher. And eating leftovers but they were good.
The condo does not have a pot large enough to cook a lobster. Until today. Husband and Little Mister plan to stop in Daytona to get one. We’ll leave it here so we can boil lobster on future trips. The dynamic duo will also stop at Hull’s to get lobster and possibly some crab legs. Either are fine. We have corn on the cob. And butter. But no bread.
Guess I’m glad I forgot my wallet after all. Besides, a two mile walk in the heat of the Florida sun in the middle of the afternoon with the screecher sounds like great fun. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to experience that joy? At least I can give him a cookie when we get to Publix. Food in mouth means no screeching.
And we’ll have some bread for our dinner.