Portland Maine

After a mind-addling, Nyquil filled, delirious 15 hour ride due south through Canada I awoke suddenly to find myself in Portland Maine (it could have been Islamabad Pakistan for all I knew at the time). As I cleared the cobwebs out of my brain and attempted to find my bearings, one clear thought entered my mind -- succulent Maine Lobster.

Maine Lobster in Maine is one of those items you have on the old bucket list to cross off before you die, so armed with a few of the crew we ventured out in search of the perfect Lobstrocities to consume.

How does one find the perfect lobster in an unfamiliar town one may ask? Well, I began with finding the fattest person I could under the assumption that he/she would know where to find the best of the best when it comes to food. In this case it was my jovial 350 pound cab driver, who after recommending a restaurant delved into a diatribe on the inner workings of the world of consuming lobster.

This guy may have been driving a cab but he could have definitely taught a master's class on the topic of lobster in Maine. He covered such wide ranging topics as the difference between Maine lobster and those oversized shrimp langostines they sell on the west coast marketed as Maine lobster to what the best way to eat a lobster is to how the ocean currents of Maine create the perfect enviroment for these lobster to thrive. Once he started talking, he wouldn't or perhaps couldn't stop until we reached our destination $20 in cab fare later (pricey but well worth it). Thanks Fat Man, you will be remembered.

The place was Demilio's and it sits on a boat on the Portland harbor, the special was two twin lobsters for $20. None of us looked at the menu, simply telling the garcon to go grab us one stuffed and one steamed lobster each and to not dilly dally.

Words can not describe the delights that were to ensue, photographs can do nothing to convey the experience of cracking that poor little lobster into a million little pieces (did you catch that reference to James Frey?) and eating that perfect succulent meat doused in garlic butter using my tiny little fork. My lobster put up a fight and did not want to be broken apart. So we went a few rounds and needless to say I broke that little bastard down and ate the hell out of him, voraciously I might add. The taste of that lobster alone is enough to drive a man howling mad with delight, streaking down the street in a daze of lobster induced euphoria. It was a meal that will truly ruin any later lobster meal I eat in life as they will surely pale in comparison to this experience.

I just want to thank those brave lobsters who gave their lives that day so I could eat a memorable meal. They put up a brave fight, but they were drastically outmatched and outgunned. May they go down in the history of this blog as true American heroes.