Sometimes I can afford to go on vacation. When I do, I prefer places I don't have to see anyone in a swim suit. I've always wanted to visit Maine and when my plus-one had a summer stock opportunity in Bar Harbor, I tagged along like a cheap groupie. I was told it would be like Dirty Dancing, and it was. I carried a watermelon, had an abortion and became a world class dancer in less than a week. The dancing was coincidental because he was actually doing improv comedy for a theatre in Bar Harbor called ImprovAcadia. It's a charming comedy club that employs and houses Chicago comedians (and comedian hangers-on) for a few weeks at a time.
In my mind Maine and lobster are inextricably linked. In fact, I have a Pavlovian reaction whenever I so much as hear the word lobster, I start to salivate and wipe away phantom butter dribbles. Maybe my obsession with this delectable crustacean is because I was born in the Midwest and the closest I ever got to a lobster was a chain restaurant by the mall. Since most of the world's lobster comes from the Maine harbor, it's real cheap along the coast. With this in mind, I spent weeks looking forward to seven days of lobster. I mostly succeeded. While it's pretty affordable, the best place to have your basic, no-frills boiled lobster 'n sides are lobster pounds. As cute as it sounds, they're basically lobster concentration camps. As long as you keep in mind shellfish are just seabugs without a central nervous system to feel pain, they're delicious! Personally, I like any place I can demand to have something killed on my account. I can't really take any culinary credit here, but sometimes it's nice to have a dinner party in different part of the country!
