If you live in or have just heard of Texas, you know about our barbecue — particularly brisket. It’s one of the foods most strongly associated with the state. Heck, it may as well be on our flag.
And of all the other states with a strong identification with a particular food (Wisconsin and cheese curds, Maryland’s crabs, or maybe even Florida’s key lime pie), I’d argue that just one other state is as joined at the hip to a specific food as Texas is to smoked meats.
Of course, I’m talking about Maine lobsters.
In my opinion, no other state is as psychotic about centering its entire personality around something they eat. So, in the interest of journalism, a friend and I ventured to New England to investigate whether or not Maine feels the same way about lobsters as we do about our beloved barbecue.
Short answer, from my three days’ experience: They do. Long answer: Theyyyyyy dooo.
First up, their license plates. They may as well be shaped like lobsters. The crustacean is everywhere, all at once. My favorite plate just had a picture of a lobster on the side, with the simple inscription “Lobster” at the bottom. Short and to the point! Like if Texas plates just said “Cow.” Honestly, I’d respect it.
Texas Monthly food writer Paula Forbes also noticed that lobsters were ubiquitous, while visiting family during summers in Maine.
“I remember being shocked there was a lobster roll on the menu at McDonald’s,” she told The Barbed Wire. Meanwhile in Texas, our McDonald’s just gets the ice cream machine working every third Tuesday and we call it a miracle.
“There’s a lot of pride to both” lobster and brisket, Forbes said. “I think that’s the case with most regionally beloved foods. I think it’s interesting that both affinities — beef, lobster — stem from agricultural industries that both states are known for.”
And, boy, is Maine known for lobster. Have I mentioned? It’s everywhere.
From the decor in roadside bathrooms to the actual scenery (they have lighthouses and oceans everywhere!), Maine is a lobster’s paradise. Except, of course, for the ones that get trapped and eaten.
On our recent weekend trip, we flew into Portland, where we — of course — had dinner at a seafood place. The lobster rolls were listed at “market price,” which is code for “you may need a home equity loan for this.” I half expected the waiter to ask for my FICO score before handing me the menu.
Turns out, I wasn’t far off. They were $35. But damn if they weren’t worth it.
If you haven’t had one, it’s basically like a piece of heaven in a buttered roll. (And in Maine, they sometimes use mayonnaise — it’s a whole beef with Connecticut, which uses butter. At least, that’s what I think, but what would I know, I’m an out-of-towner.)
But you can’t beat the hometown making its own dish. Forbes said: “There’s also something to it where, when a population of diners is generally highly knowledgeable about a type of food, the baseline is higher than it would be otherwise. You can’t serve Texans terrible barbecue or you’ll go out of business. Same with Mainers and lobster.”
The next day, my friend and I drove up the coast, to the Five Islands area, where we ate at a total of two lobster shacks. These were basically restaurants situated on working docks (as the signs informed us), where lobster traps were piled nearby. We could see fishing boats in the distance, hard at work.
I told my friend, as we cracked into lobsters so red they looked artificial, that the best part about the trip was that, when we returned to Texas, we could be completely insufferable whenever lobsters came up. Because we’d had the real deal. (At least, I think so. Who knows, they may have had a big freezer full just for folks like us who were wearing jackets when it was 80 degrees and breezy.)
Nonetheless, they were delicious. I can’t quite describe WHY fresh lobster tastes better, it’s just that they’re … lighter? More flavorful? If I were a better writer or was raised on this stuff, I could articulate it better. All I can tell you is that fresh lobster makes you feel like God himself has blessed you with a darned good meal.
Plus, the atmosphere can’t be beat — with the aforementioned fishing boats, but also the locals in their bucket hats and LL Bean jackets and those accents. Nothing like being told your lobster’s “wicked fresh” by a guy who looks like he wrestles seagulls for sport. (That didn’t happen, but it could have!)
Lobster, like a lot of famed regional dishes, started out as something far different from a $35 roll. Back in the early 20th century, they were plentiful and cheap and considered a working-class meal.
Over time, that changed.
“It might take awhile, but it’s common for working class foods to become the coveted ‘cultural’ foods of a region, in part, because they are the hyper-specific foods that you can’t necessarily make easily or buy straight from the grocery store but that can use up ingredients that the ruling class isn’t interested in,” longtime Austin food writer Addie Broyles told The Barbed Wire.
“So, from lobsters, which were once considered a food only worthy of people who are incarcerated, to brisket or barbacoa cooked by the Black and Mexican cooks in the South or fish tacos in LA, there’s a long history of food becoming an object of wide, and often exacting, obsession only after it has spent generations being appreciated by a much smaller group of people who are then frequently outpriced to buy it or left out of the narrative behind its history.”
Food is the one thing in America that can go from “prison slop” to “$35 artisanal entree” faster than you can say “farm-to-table.”
Over the years, lobsters spread to the rest of the country and have become an integral part of Maine’s identity — again, similar to barbecue and Texas. You eat that particular dish, or even think of it (and the accompanying smells and tastes), and there’s that accompanying sense of place.
Lobsters and a brisk breeze and a view of water stretched out to eternity. Brisket and the wide open spaces of Texas, a cowboy and a horse, both sweating their asses off because it’s 100 degrees in September. Meanwhile in Maine, the only thing sweating is me, trying to crack open a lobster with dignity while an 8-year-old local does it in two seconds flat.
Which is better? That’s a matter of your own personal preference and, probably more than anything, your state pride. Both are delicious, while being completely different.
Although there is one clear winner, when it comes to which food will require a cleanup after you eat it.
“Lobster for sure is messier,” Forbes said.
And that’s true. With lobster, you’re wearing a bib, wielding tools, and looking like you’re auditioning for a construction job. With brisket, you just need some paper towels and a forgiving waistband.
So maybe that’s the real difference between Maine and Texas: One state makes you break out the lobster crackers, the other just makes you unbutton your jeans.
Either way, you’ll leave full, proud of your state — and probably smelling like smoke or shellfish for the rest of the day.
