Multitudes of taut and tan Westsiders (I live there too, but represent the out-of-shape/farmer’s-tan contingent) packed The Lobster restaurant last night to celebrate the its 10th anniversary. The Santa Monica Pier restaurant was jammed wall-to-wall with people, so I lingered just long enough to take advantage of the fresh seafood bar—crab, lobster, oysters, shrimp and tons of passed plates (they still do have the best crab cakes). It was great fun and I stayed until the sun started to set.
Worth a giggle: Some of the fit folks looked like they hadn’t touched a carb in years, so the fist-sized lobster rolls that were making the rounds didn’t quite get the love they deserved. I noticed fellas in Rock and Republic jeans and Tommy Bahama shirts were just eating the lobster out of the bun and then 86-ing the bready goodness. There were petite buns scattered everywhere. Don’t be afraid, fellas—eat the bun! It was delicious. Maybe it was the wine or perhaps those crab cakes, but to the gray-haired couple making out in the parking lot while we waited for our cars: I hope I still have that kinda spunk at your age.