The thing about lobsters

As I pulled in to Wegman's Friday, I saw a giant sign where they normally boast their ridiculously large beer selection.

$6.99/lb. Live Lobster Sale! Fresh from Maine!

I can count on two hands how many times I've eaten lobster in my life, likely due to its cost-restrictive tendencies, but this is neither here nor there. I remember the experiences being near celestial.

After a quick cell phone call to my mother to inquire about what's involved in cooking live lobster, which seemed inhumane at best, it seemed I had no choice but to splurge.

"$6.99?!?! That's amazing," my mom said. "I've never seen anything cheaper than $10.99. Buy! Buy!" We are from The Most Landlocked State Known To Man, however. I'm sure $10.99 is a wicked deal in Kansas.

I ended up getting two - with taxes about $16.00. Pretty good for fresh Maine lobster, I understand. I've got to admit, I felt entirely awkward and cruel carrying live food around in a bag. The seafood man reassured me they would not escape in my fridge, but I kept checking on them all afternoon.

They looked at me with those bulgy, opaque lobster eyes. Complete disdain. My guilt was palpable, even as I googled the best cooking method. Another moment of reassurance came when I discovered that lobsters, like insects, supposedly don't have a nervous system so they can't detect pain. I guess when I slowly steam or boil their little butts to death, this should make me feel better. I don't know if this is true. Someone find out and tell me for next time.

I opted for steaming and felt bad about it until I started eating.

Lobster. Yum. I hope they can't feel pain or experience grocery bag trauma.

The thing about wings

With all the non-stop chatter about American politics and the world economic melt down, I think some lighter, spicier fare is in order.

Buffalo Wings.

It's important to note, in Buffalo no one calls them "Buffalo Wings." Here, they're simply known as 'wings.' I suppose it's like going to Chicago and asking for a "Chicago Hot Dog" or to Philadelphia and ordering a "Philadelphia Cheese Steak." You just don't do it.

As the birthplace of the chicken wing, Buffalo has a slew of restaurants claiming to have the best wings in the city.

To be honest, I really never liked chicken wings prior to moving to Buffalo. Once you move here, however, you embrace drinking Canadian beer and watching hockey and then wings just come with the territory.

Without further ado, an amateur's guide to Buffalo's chicken wings.

The Anchor Bar: With their tell-tale state license plates lining the wall, this is supposedly where it all started. Tourists to Niagara Falls list it on their must-sees right after The Maid of The Mist. It's a little pricey compared to other wing dives, but it is "the original." I liked these wings, but popular Buffalonian opinion indicates it's not the favorite. I went for the medium and it was fairly mild. They won't let you mix and match your flavors for free, so expect to pay if you want to sample the various 'heats.'

Duff's: It actually burns when you walk through the door. The first breath in and you're already feeling the burn. Staffed with dozens of cute UB undergrads, this place gets points for character. In full disclosure, it's more of a dive than The Anchor Bar, but I suppose most people consuming food entirely with their hands aren't too picky, right?

Their claim to fame is "our medium is hot..." This is a slogan that should be taken more as a warning than with a grain of salt. After The Anchor Bar, I mistakenly ignored this fact and went for the medium. I regretted it not only during the meal, but the next day too. Duff's is nice because they offer package deals with a pitcher of pop or beer and french fries. They also allow you to choose how many of each flavor of wings you want. Want to try a suicidal, 5 mediums and 4 milds? No extra charge. Nice.

Gabriel's Gate: Buffalo Spree (see previous post) named Gabriel's Gate the best place for wings so we had to try them. Their medium was a comfortable medium and the prices are reasonable. They charge a few bucks if you want to customize your order. I can't say they were my favorite, that honor goes to Duff's, but the taxonomy decor, crazy late hours and authentic Buffalo feel makes Gabriel's Gate a close runner-up.

The thing about Iran

My friend from Iran came to visit this weekend.

You can stop furrowing those eyebrows now.

Rife with politically incorrect jokes about the "Axis of Evil," he spent the weekend on the futon and caught me up on the life of an Iranian ex-pat turned American college co-ed. His father served as an Iranian diplomat throughout most of his life, meaning my friend grew up in Oman, India, Sri Lanka, Algeria and of course, Iran.

The various stints in other countries and an American undergraduate experience have given him a unique perspective, indeed. His parents have returned to Iran, but both his sister and brother are studying and working in the United States. He craves The Colbert Report, tried every flavor of frozen custard at Anderson's and implored me about the existence of Trader Joe's in Buffalo. Needless to say, he fully intends to become an American citizen.

Here are some of the fascinating highlights from the weekend per his commentaries:

Movies worth seeing: 2007's Academy Award nominated "Persepolis." To be honest, on a scale of one to ten, my knowledge of Iran was about a two. This movie bumped it up to at least a four or five. My Iranian friend says it's a fairly accurate portrayal of history (at least the last 40 years or so) in Iran, with many of the current issues presented still holding true today. And no, this movie wasn't shown in Iran.

On enriching uranium: He's not a fan of the current regime, so he was concerned about their ambitions. However, in defense of his homeland he said Iran, like many other countries, had signed the non-proliferation agreement and should be allowed to have nuclear energy, not weapons. His fear, like that of many, is an arms race that could be disastrous if left unchecked.

Persian vs. Farsi: Call the language Persian. He thinks it's weird when you Show-Offs call it Farsi. Why is it not called Iranian? In a nut shell, Iranians have always called their country Iran, but the rest of the world called it Persia for a long time. Once they decided to reassert their namesake, it took so long to get recognition, the language title more or less fell by the wayside. So in English, that means Iranians speak Persian. Not Arabic. It looks like Arabic because it's written with the Arabic alphabet, but just because French is written with the same alphabet as English doesn't make it English.

On the head scarf: Women are forced to wear them in Iran. SallyJaneTourist would even have to wear one. My friend doesn't agree with or like this rule.

On Niagara Falls: Amazing. Simply amazing. It's a shame he can't cross over to the Canadian side without a visa. Everyone knows the view is better...

Is everybody Muslim in Iran?: No. Are lots of people Muslim? Yes. Is my friend? No.

Is alcohol really illegal in Iran?: Yes, think Prohibition and you're on the right track. Has just about everything illegal gone underground under the current regime? Yes.

Do Iranians hate Americans: No, in fact, most Iranians have never met an American and would be very excited to meet AverageJoeTourist. They do, however, vividly recall the air strikes by Saddam and fear potential attacks of that nature.

Was your dad ambassador to America?: "Ambassadors/embassies/consulates are normally only in countries where relations are solid. Thus, there is no Iranian embassy in the USA and no American embassy in Iran." Third world countries have it kind of tough, he said.

Why there aren't tanning salons in India: "In India, there are more skin-lightening creams than there are shampoos for sale at the drug store." He admitted this was a slight exaggeration, but only slightly. Many Indians, he says, like in some other cultures, prize fair skin. He cited actual television commercials where Indians from southern provinces use the creams and exclaim a la American infomercial, "Now I look like I'm from such and such Northern province! (notorious for fairer skinned individuals)." And we thought all the rage was the bronzer the better. Now I find myself smearing on spray-on-tan and exclaiming, "Now I look like I'm from California!" It doesn't have quite the same ring.