Maine II: Lobstah

It troubles me that I could be so thoroughly pedestrian, right there in the middle with all the other lemmings. Yet I must confess that during our July-4th vacation in Maine, not only did my lighthouse obsession leap to the fore, I put away lobster like nobody's business. Mind you, this phenomenon is so universally acknowledged in New England that we actually see TV commercials featuring a dewy-eyed, apparently newly-wed man in a bridal suite gazing adoringly at the live lobster laying next to him in bed. (They're trying to entice people to Maine with the "it's more than just lobster" message.) And not just eating it. Admiring the traps and colorful buoys, contemplating preppier-than-preppy lobster festooned clothing souvenirs, and in general acting besotted in a most unbecoming way. Above is a Maine lobster roll, whose flavors and texture still visit me in my fantasies. Maine lobster rolls are cold and mayonnaisey, whereas those I've tried in Connecticut are warm and buttery. I could live to be 135 years old and never be able to judge one state's method superior, but I would enjoy trying.
This is a pier covered with lobster traps, jutting out into a pretty little cove filled with lobster boats. You don't want to know how many other photos I have like this.

If you go to Maine, I highly recommend the lobster.