Seeking the tastes of Maine: from sea to scone
National Geographic Photographer Michael George discovers Maine has more to please your palate than fresh seafood.
People usually travel to Maine guided by a sense of adventure. I arrive guided by my stomach, eager to eat and drink my way through the Casco Bay region’s food scene. To see Mainers' commitment to harvesting and preparing impeccable cuisine, I stop by The Lobster Shack at Two Lights, where they’ve been serving seafood plates for over a hundred years.
Waiting in line, I overhear the man in front of me ask, “Does your lobster roll come with butter or mayo?” He has a sharp undertone as if there is only one correct answer. “Mayo,” the cashier responds―and the man orders his lobster roll plain. I believe I’ve just witnessed the settling of one of the great food debates of our time. Though I love mayonnaise to an unhealthy degree, I am new here, and that customer is only a few feet away from me. I order mine plain as well, ensuring my first taste of Maine lobster remains pure. It wasn’t a wrong decision. The flavor is like the air along the coast: fresh, crisp. It makes the colors more saturated and the light brighter. I’ve been in Maine for three days already, but with this bite, I’ve finally arrived.
The Lobster Shack is perched above the rocks on the coast, and the view from the outdoor tables features a lighthouse poking above the trees and a sun setting slower than I thought it could. In late June, the days are so long that it feels like an endless summer. Now that I’ve had my first lobster roll, I am curious to see the process from the start, which means getting on the water at 5 a.m. the following morning for first light. When I arrive on the docks at Harraseeket Lunch and Lobster, I meet Tommy Coffin, a third-generation lobster fisherman and son of the current owner. He loads a barrel of bait at the marina that sits directly behind the restaurant.
Visitors can watch boats come and go throughout the day, underlining how quickly their menu items move from the bay to the kitchen. Harraseeket exudes old-school charm with a colorful menu and construction that has been Frankenstein-ed together over the years to accommodate their success. Our trip on Tommy’s boat takes less than half an hour to arrive at the first buoy. Tommy and his team’s routine efficiency is apparent as they measure, band, and toss the lobster into an onboard tank.
Returning to the dock, the morning’s haul is unloaded into one of the more fascinating features of the restaurant—a tank room with a pump that moves thousands of gallons of seawater every hour, ensuring the lobster never leave their natural environment. Tommy, standing on the deck alongside his brother, tells me he’s been on the water as long as he can remember, his family part of Maine’s historical connection to the surrounding waterways. To learn more about this history and the other families in the region, I travel a short drive northeast to the Maine Maritime Museum in Bath.
Housed in the original buildings of the Percy & Small Shipyard, I walk into a vaulted room and learn lobster trap buoys are like family crests. Each fisherman has a specified design to represent them, and a floor-to-ceiling map showcases where they operate. Standing in front of this colorful installation, I began to understand how long locals have been committed to harvesting fresh food from the sea. The museum is part of a 20-acre campus where each building introduces visitors to a different aspect of ship-building history. In addition to this two-story structure dedicated to lobstering, there is a Victorian house that offers insights into the daily life of a shipbuilding family and a Watercraft Restoration Center where volunteers help staff to repair, restore, preserve, and even build boats.
These volunteers are the heart of the operation. Jeff Tarbox, who used to work at Bath Iron Works down the road, is a walking encyclopedia of ship facts. He excitedly describes how the Kennebec River, which runs alongside the museum, used to sell and ship their ice because it was so clear you could read a newspaper through it. At its shipbuilding peak, there were 40 shipyards along this small stretch of riverbank. Driving through Bath, I see a sign that proudly proclaims, “Through these gates pass the best shipbuilders in the world.” This declaration has been true for centuries, and shipbuilding in the area dating back to the 1740s. Just thinking about all of that manual labor, I’m hungry again.
While ocean-to-table is the most obvious example of fresh, there are many other culinary corners where that level of commitment to craft is evident. In Scarborough, Maine, I drive up to Len Libby Candies, a rare candy store where everything is still handmade. Walking in, I feel my blood sugar rise just from the smell. Delightfully sweet, the air is like a 4D experience of Hansel and Gretel. I look past the endless variety of taffy, brittles, chocolate, and cookies to lock eyes with the real star of the show: Lenny, a life-sized chocolate moose. Lenny, weighing 1,700 pounds, has stood proudly (and somehow uneaten!) for over 25 years. While he is the most well-known attraction, I am delighted to report there are also two dark chocolate bear cubs that kind of steal the show. There’s a whole corner dedicated to blueberries infused with honey, teas, chocolates, and even caramel popcorn.
Maine is the top producer of wild blueberries in the U.S. and the berry creativity doesn’t stop here. Berries can be found in countless baked goods throughout the city of Portland. Bakeries in the area are no joke, receiving James Beard nominations and awards left and right. Standard Baking Co., one of these stars, is inconspicuous and housed in an industrial brick building at the end of a parking lot. You know they’re serving something special when patrons have no problem lining up across hot pavement. Joining the queue, I order a blueberry scone after quickly reaching the friendly cashier. I am curious to know how they infuse the flavor into a classic baked good. The answer: remarkably. The scone has almost a perfume of blueberry before it gives way to a rich and buttery flavor, ending with a satisfying sweetness. I’ve never had a baked good with tasting notes.
All pastry must be followed by coffee; I don’t make the rules. Luckily, I am not far from Burundi Star Coffee. Walking in, I am intentionally transported to the owner Jocelyne Kamikazi’s home country. Jocelyne grew up as the daughter of a coffee farmer in Burundi. After immigrating to the country with her family, she opened this café to support the coffee farmers in Burundi, and Burundi Star Coffee is directly sourced from that country.
Maine was my place to dream again. The community here was so welcoming to our family and business.Jocelyne Kamikazi, Owner, Burundi Star Coffee
Jocelyne’s intention with her café is to also return that hospitality. In addition to serving high-quality coffee and a small food menu, she opens the space to community organizations like the Alliance Française du Maine, whose members gather to practice their French. When I ask to take her portrait, a few regular customers begin playfully heckling her from behind the camera. Her warm smile spreads throughout the room as she jokes that they better stop or they won’t be allowed back. In that brief moment, the cafe is as playful and relaxed as a good friend’s living room.
Letting the brew buzz through my brain, I look to the wall where there is a carved wooden map of Burundi. Studying the outline, I think of and am grateful for the farmers who handpicked this coffee fruit. The eastern side of the country is jagged, similar to the coast of Maine. My mind drifts then to the lobstermen and women who are up every morning to harvest from the sea. . . the bakers and chocolate makers, and all the people who work with care to provide a moment of wonder through the most indulgent sense of all: taste. My last happy thought before I get up to leave is of the lobster roll I ordered at Harraseeket Lunch & Lobster. It was completely slathered in mayo, and, no, I will not write in print which one I prefer.
