Page 214 - WDT MAGAZINE IRELAND ISSUE WINTER 2018

Lobstered Out in Maine

Story and Photography by Margie Goldsmith

hen most people think
Wof Maine, they think of
L.L.Bean, duck boots, and blue-
berry or whoopie pies. But for
me, Maine means only one thing:
lobster --- or, as they say in Maine,
lobstah. Not just any lobster – not
skinny Cape lobster or Bahamian
lobster with no claws or the 10-
inch long Norway langoustine -- no,
I’m talking about the genuine two-
clawed lobster found only on the
Atlantic coast..
I devour Maine lobster. Not satis-
fied with a 1.5-pounder, I always
order a three-pounder. Give it to
me steamed, grilled or baked – just
give it to me split it in the middle.
I’ll do the rest of the work. I’ll crack
my own claws, suck the meat out
of every feeler, even eat the roe (if
it’s a female). The only thing left on
my plate will be the shell, anten-
nae, and eyes. Considering how
expensive lobster is, I find it hard
to believe that it back in Colonial
times, lobsters used to pile up on
the shoreline, and only paupers
and slaves ate it. Uneaten lobsters
were tossed to the pigs.

A typical Maine boiled Maine lob-
ster with melted butter, corn on the
cob and roasted potatoes.

214 WDT MAGAZINE WINTER 2018