Destination: Lobster

Foodie – Noun: Informal a person with a keen interest in food and cookery.

I packed up the car and hit the road a few weeks ago- destination Lobster. Via Northampton, Mass. Ascutney, Vermont, Portland, Kittery, Camden and Wiscasset, we made our way to Belfast Maine.

Days in Maine were spent ferreting out lobster pounds, restaurants that smelled particularly promising, and identifying that librarian who looked as through she knew her way around the kitchen- (they’re an amazing resource when asked to suggest favorite local food finds). I consumed plates of full-bellied “Digby” clams from Nova Scotia, mussels from Prince Edward Island (PEI), steamed and boiled lobsters, and the occasional crab-all washed down with an obscene volume of drawn butter. I’m still licking my lips as I recall the perfect confluence of elements; from the smell of the sea escaping from the scaldingly hot, freshly cracked lobster knuckle, to the drawn butter thinned with muscle juice, I couldn’t have hoped for a better way to enjoy the coastline cuisine.

I’ve been back a week, and I’m still on a seafood kick, desperately trying to hold onto the few remaining sundrenched vestiges of summer.
I returned home from Maine nursing my dozen or so mosquito bites, with a strong hankering for fried fish. Although I’m living in New England, my southern roots run very deep. There is truth when it is said that southerners will fry anything that stands still, including seafood for breakfast.

Along with my lobsters and steamed mussels, I longed for plates of grits; a thick ladle full of grits topped with a chunk of sweet butter. Northerners don’t seem to quite grasp this concept. I grew up eating plates of perfectly fried fish or fried shrimp for breakfast; bathed in milk and dredged in a typically seasoned southern flour and cornmeal mixture before being fried to perfection. When I was old enough, that squeeze of lemon was replaced by a few dashes of hot sauce.

Growing up I learned that deep-frying is considered an art. It was up there with making a good piecrust-, which I do, or knowing when to pull your pasta out of the boiling water. My mother would make a mental note if an offending piece of seafood didn’t pass muster. Her lips would imperceptibly purse and her right brow would rise as if to say too bad. The offenders were either too oily, crispy, but not thoroughly cooked, or were incased in a substandard (flavorless) coating. There are a few places that fry in such a way that the oil seems to barely touch the food, leaving behind a perfectly crisp crust and no hint of oiliness. If left in the oil too little, the full flavor will never have time to develop; if left in the oil too long you’ll have a nasty charred mess tasting of burnt toast. A fried texture is extremely important however, flavor is equally, if not more important. This is an instance when the whole is definitely greater than the sum of its parts.

There is a place that I stumbled upon in CT that fries exceptionally well. Westfair Fish Restaurant A little hole in the wall with maybe a dozen seats and a few tables that fries “like nobody’s business”. Although the ambience is of the bare, sparse and generic nature, don’t be put off by it, and do not take-out anything that they’ve fried. If you do, you’ll have missed out on an exceptional fried experience.

When the seafood is taken out of the metal basket and plated, it’s a perfectly fried, piping hot indulgence. This is something that you’ll be willing to burn the roof of you mouth for; slightly messy food that you’ll blow on before the temperature drops a few degrees. The window of this perfection closes within minutes, so make a commitment to eating there. You won’t be disappointed. Although their French fries are slightly better than adequate, their onion rings border on the sublime; thinly cut slivers of sweet fresh onions, perfectly fried so that their crisp outer crust gives way to a sweet aromatic oniony strand of lightly salted deliciousness.

I would recommend all of their soups. The seafood and crab bisques both are sold in quart sizes and would be perfect for a dinner party if you added a splash of dry sherry, a little pepper and additional butter. However the most intriguing soup is the Newport chowder. Imagine roughly chopped fresh clams and chunks of potatoes simmered in the broth of fifty mussels, seasoned lightly with sea salt, pepper and a touch of butter. That’s it. Nothing superfluous, and it’s perfect. A chunk of crusty bread slathered with fresh creamery butter and a glass of a crisp white wine or beer would make for a memorable meal. This you could and should enjoy in the comforts of your home.



Thank you for reading this post.

Photo © Béatrice Peltre

Foodie

Noun: Informally a person with a keen interest in food and cookery.

The ambivalence with which I refer to myself as a “foodie” only serves to confirm the fact that I’ve never thought of food as a trendy cultural expression; neither whimsically ephemeral or resistant to change and static because of time honored traditions. For me, food has always been experiential and tactile, multifaceted and enigmatic.

I still remember the first time I had blue cheese and pears; I was six years old. With a plate of china, in my grandmother’s rocking chair; we ate blue cheese, pears and saltines as we watched the Wild Wild West - she sipped a glass of port. Countless memories of food still vibrantly live within my soul; joyous, specific memories tied to locations, friends and moments in time.

Food is the driving force for many decisions I make throughout my life;

a catalyst for many international vacations, long distance road-trips, and late night impromptu trips to the fridge for one more succulent bite of something way too rich. I could no sooner separate myself from my passion toward food than to consider living without laughter.

I want to hear from anyone with a sophisticated pallet, living in Connecticut, who is passionate about food. Perhaps many of you may be ex-New Yorkers or transplants to the state, but I’m in no way limiting the pool of respondents. Food does not have to be expensive to inspire. In fact, expensive isn’t necessarily better. I’m looking for quality and flavor. There must be countless, “off the beaten track” restaurants, cafés and food purveyors in Connecticut; great local places that are never covered by the press and serve amazing things. Please help me find them. I will share your responses and together we can expand the community of Connecticut foodies.