Lobster, Maine, and the Definition of Excessive

Being in Portland, Maine on business, it seemed I was tossed a small golden nugget to carry me through my travels. I had never been to Maine before, and if you like food and know anything about Maine, lobster seems like the obvious choice.

So I planned on lobster for lunch and making my way to a dance class over dinner. The lady at the hotel counter suggested J's Oyster Bar as a place for good, local, non-touristy seafood. We headed over, but for some reason this place didn't serve lobster tails, which is really all I wanted. Instead I ordered a seafood stew that seemed to hold promise: lobster crab meat, shrimp, clams, and mussels over penne pasta. But as I noted to Brian, one of my work colleagues, I'm not going to be impressed with any dish that I'm sure I could recreate, on the first try, and probably add something to make it better. Chicken stock, basil, stewed tomatoes, salt, pepper, and the seafood. Yawn.

Unsatisfied, I skipped the dance class in lieu of finding seafood that I could dip into butter. I make healthy choices. So this time I headed for the apparent paragon of seafood tourism, this spot called DiMillo's. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised. I started with a Caesar salad that got all polished off. The rolls were top notch. And my Maine course was SICK. And I promise not to use another pun in the next couple of posts. Sorry.

Two whole steamed lobsters plus mashed potatoes and french fries. Paired with a decent Riesling, I was on top of the world.