Lobster Cuddlers or Lobster Claws? Someone's Full of L. L. Beans

L. L. Bean doesn’t usually grace the pages of my blog; I think of it as a practical shop for campers and hikers, but it generally doesn’t inspire me in terms of style.

But Linda Bean, an L. L. Bean heiress from Maine, has jolted me into action with her plan to rebrand lobsters and become the lobster queen of the east coast (my words, not hers).

Bean takes issue with what is commonly known to fishermen, fisherwomen, and diners across the globe as the “lobster claw.” To Bean, that term connotes something scary, and in her move to take over lobster fishing, lobster production, and lobster sales in Maine, she wants to rebrand (rename) the lobster claw.

Bean wants to call the lobster claw the “lobster cuddler.”

Now, I don’t mind the word “cuddler” when it’s associated with many L. L. Bean products: it fits a fleece jacket nicely; it aptly describes a cozy sleeping bag; it makes ear muffs, mittens, and hats sound appealing.

But lobster cuddlers? To eat?

I don’t want my lobsters euphemized. Call a claw a claw, please, because a claw is not cuddly. It’s sharp and snippy and delicious with melted butter.

Although Ms. Bean does not work for the fabled L. L. Bean company, I suggest that she take her marketing energies there, and transform camping lanterns into cuddly lights and tents into giant cuddlers. Maybe she could even make waterproof Snuggies for the chilly Atlantic lobsters.

I’d like to offer her her first memo: L. L. does not stand for “lobster lunch.”