The Almighty Lobster Roll

This one at least has some celery and chives. That's something.

Last week a friend from Utah came for a visit. Debbie is great for a lot of reasons, but one thing she said secured her spot on my Top 10 List of Unique Individuals: She questioned the attributes of the almighty lobster roll, ruling as it does all of New England cuisine like the great and powerful Oz in the Emerald City. Debbie wanted one right off the bat, saying essentially, "when in Maine," so I took her to a nearby shack with a great reputation and long lines of tourists. After a bite she asked, "What's the big deal--isn't it just pieces of lobster in a hot dog bun?" The answer is yes, Debbie, yes, yes, yes---that is exactly what it is! And yet, such a mundane item can cost an arm and a leg in these parts--certainly an arm and a claw.

I don't eat lobster, finding it tasteless, often rubbery and always bland. These qualities explain why it is always served with bowls of melted butter for dipping or pre-swathed in mayonnaise. Visitors come seeking the best lobster roll, sort of like when you go to Ireland you've got to kiss the Blarney Stone--which by the way I did not do because first of all you have to wait in line and second you have to hang upside down to do it. It didn't seem worth either of those. And while eating a lobster roll is a lot easier than kissing the Blarney Stone, and more nutritious, to me the experience is just as vacuous.

Here in Freeport, the superstar sandwich costs about $14, and that's even without celery. For that same money you could have a nice pair of fleece socks, which will last a lot longer.