What Did You Call Me?

Source

While out and about on Wednesday, The Missus Herself and I were both feeling a bit peckish, so we stopped at a local favorite eatery (Palmer River Grille) for lunch. She had the pasta, I had the lobster roll. (For a really good briefing on this New England delight, chase the source under the photo, tells you how to make 'em as well.)

Growing up in New England I didn't get the chance to eat a lot of seafood, Vermont's only coastline of note is along Lake Champlain. We did go to Maine often where I developed a taste for clams, both fried and steamed. But lobster, no didn't get a chance to try it. (Though Dad and my Grandfather would often get lobster from somewhere, from where was a mystery to us kids, and cook them in the kitchen. Which seemed a rather cold blooded thing to do. IYKYK.)

But yes, trips to Maine were a thing as a child. Every now and again Mom and Dad would load up the car (to include Your Humble Scribe and his two kid brothers) early on a Saturday morn and off to Maine we'd go. Usually the Wells/York area.

One of the highlights of those trips was to stop along the way for breakfast. Not at some eatery but at a place with picnic tables. Mom would break out the cereal bowls, milk, cereal, and (a special treat) some fresh fruit to go on top of the cereal. Blueberries were a huge favorite of mine, peaches being a close second.

We'd spend the day at the beach, braving the Arctic waters of the North Atlantic (my earliest memories are of sweltering in the hot sun on some sandy beach then going into the water to freeze my butt off), then as the sun began to sink behind us, we'd load up and head back to Vermont. (A three hour trip IIRC. Queue the Gilligan's Island theme.)

More often than not we'd stop at a restaurant in Maine, or along the very short New Hampshire coast, to eat. Mom and Dad always got lobster, at least my memories say so. Once upon a time one of the brothers asked, "What's lobster taste like?"

Panicked adult looks would follow, along with the answer, "This is grownup food, you wouldn't like it. Do you want a hot dog or a burger?"

I learned later in life that the phrase "grownup food" generally meant, "this stuff is damned expensive, if everybody wants lobster, no one gets lobster." I mean I get it, I was once a lowly enlisted guy with a wife and three kids living in base housing making somewhere around a thousand bucks a month. Not bad, but we didn't eat lobster, ever. (We kept  the Hamburger Helper people in business for years!)

As I got promoted, we could indulge, but I didn't get lobster, I'd kind of forgotten about it. Another thing is, we were never stationed in New England or anywhere near New England and trust me, Red Lobster ain't "bad" but I think you get thrown out of New England if you actually ate there while traveling.

When we'd visit New England I'd always get fried clams (whole belly damn you, take those strips back to the bloody kitchen, damn your eyes!), and was content. After retiring, having spent the last years of my Air Force career in Germany (nope, no lobster there, but schnitzel to die for) I actually tried lobster again. Fell in love I did.

Not with the entire animal mind you. When I eat, I want to eat, not wrestle with the thing I'm trying to eat. The Missus Herself once jumped in when our waitress¹ was recommending some rather messy sandwich concoction to me, she said, "Oh no, he doesn't like touching his food, that looks far too messy."

Well, okay, I confess that I am that way. I even get a little grossed out eating fries. Lately it's all done with a fork. Now sandwiches are an exception, as long as they ain't too messy (sorry sloppy joe, you taste good, but no, too messy) I don't mind touching bread, I love bread, bread is good.

So (back to our theme) lobster rolls were just the thing for me. A little messy yes (after all they grill the bun with butter) but I don't mind. Lobster is delicious, there are days I literally crave it.

Wednesday was one such day, but while talking about lobster rolls and a particular friend of ours The Missus Herself said, "She doesn't like too much mayonnaise on her lobster sandwich."²

Time seemed to stop ...

"What did you call it?"

"A lobster sandwich," she answered with a warning look.

"Now babe, understand, this is New England, it's called a lobster roll, because it comes in a roll. Do you call a hot dog a hot dog sandwich? No, it's just a hot dog." My explanation obviously fell on deaf ears.

"Why not call it a hot dog roll?"

Okay, she had me there. English is, in truth, a very confusing and contradictory language at times. In truth, she speaks it very well, the nuances she simply ignores. Until I point them out.

Then she ignores me.

So I went back to eating my lobster sandwich, er, roll and life went on, much as it has done for thousands of years. Though for a very long period with no hot dogs and no lobster rolls. I mean yeah, those are both sandwiches of a sort, we just don't call 'em that.

One way or the other, I love 'em.

¹ Back when you could call them that. I despise political correctness.

² Lobster rolls come in two styles, Connecticut style - which is served hot with melted butter, on a New England style hot dog bun, and Maine style - cold lobster salad, with mayo and often chopped up celery or some other accent. The Connecticut style, while absolutely delicious is far too messy. Melted butter squirting over my fingers, thanks, but no. I'll eat it with a fork if that's all they've got.