Miles logged: 1,853
So cliché but so delicious
One year prior to this moment, New York City was the moon to me. A few trips later and I have my pizza folding technique down. Now I’m launching from my giant leap to Mars. We’re driving farther from familiarity. Leaving the sprawl of the greater New York metropolitan area, the New England country smiles at us. Concrete and congestion open to gentle green mountains and crisp air. We are headed for Maine. Welcome to Mars.
Coastal Maine is a place rarely seen by a Kansan. Despite the geographic obstacle, folks from my neck of the woods know very little or care of this place. A landscape so opposite of my home is extraterrestrial to me. Lush pines canvas the horizon. Picturesque cottages adorn bays and inlets as if from a
n LL Bean catalog. Driving with the windows down encourages an effortless inhale. I’m really starting to like this place. Our day-trip to Maine takes us north from the lower coast from Portland to Freeport. The quaint village of Freeport attracts tourists with appetite to save on expensive merchandise with a number of quality outlet malls including the LL Bean flagship store. Go figure. After poking around in stores where we couldn’t afford the outlet prices, we departed with a few stickers and t-shirts. We had made dinner plans with Rebecca’s friend Ashley in the small town of Kittery, just across the Piscataqua River from Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Guess what I am having for my first dinner in Maine?
It sounds cliché but frankly it’s delicious, the Maine “lobstah,” as the locals say. Few places in Maine do it better than Warren’s. At the end of their own pier in the Piscataqua, Warren’s Lobster House has been dishing out the best the New England coast has to offer since 1940. Warren’s began as a humble six-seat counter in the port selling lobster at 25 cents a pound. $29.75 per pound of lobster later, Warren’s is a lower coast icon. Today the restaurant seats 350, houses it’s own bakery, gift shop, full-service bar, 200-feet boat dock and Maine’s finest salad bar, featuring over 60 items, soups and fresh breads. (And a partridge in a pear tree.)
I have never been to a place like Warren’s. Red Lobster is the closest I get to seafood. Warren’s holds a nostalgic charm. Following our hostess to our waiting friend, I glanced that the newspaper articles framed on the walls celebrating another Warren’s milestone of longevity. Examples of seaman’s knots and various species of mounted sea creatures including a replica 30-pound lobster stare at us as we approach the table. We take a seat and I am pleased. We had come to the right place.
Perusing the menu, my eyes became big as scallops. My craving for crustacean was almost defeated by the impact on the wallet. I convinced myself that the opportunity to eat Maine lobster in a place like Warren’s was rare and splurged. My tasty friend came with butter dipping sauce, instructions, bib and a trip to the featured salad bar. After patiently waiting and enjoying my appetizer, my entrée stared at me from the tabletop. I have eaten lobster before, but never like this. This meal was about to get personal. Red from his recent fatal dip in the Jacuzzi, my dinner rests before me. Eating lobster is an experience. Rarely do you get such a primal acquaintance with your food. Tearing it to pieces is a great way to get to know one of God’s creatures. But you must get all the tasty bits, especially at 30 freaking dollars a pound. Claws cleaned and legs licked, brings me to the piece de resistance, the tail. My plate mat instructions offered tips and illustrations but declined. After some giggles from the lobster-aficionado girls, I dunked and consumed. I smiled as I used the bib to wipe the butter sauce off my face.
At the conclusion of the meal, we retired to Ashley’s house for a few locally brewed beers and some gab. Coming to Maine surprised me. A place so far from home certainly didn’t feel like it. The hospitality is as unspoiled as the countryside. I can’t wait to come back. Welcome to Maine. Welcome home.
