Well, one of the few reasons we are ever tempted to move back to Maine was eliminated yesterday afternoon. We finally found a way to get into Boston’s Fish House. No more longing for a lobster roll, haddock, fried clams or scallops. There they are, just about 20 minutes from home (as long as we don’t mind being there right at 4pm or standing in an incredibly long line).
Mrs. Rasreth had broiled haddock, and I thought she was going to cry. It’s not that the seafood down here sucks, it’s just different. I love catfish and red fish and mahi mahi, but it’s just not the same as a big plate of artery-choking fried onion rings, scallops, clams and cod with a bit of cole slaw and fries on the side, served on paper plates at a picnic table. (Yes, the diet was forgotten for one day.) It’s a little more expensive than going down to Penobscot and getting a basket from a drive-up window, and it’s no Weathervane, but considering the circumstances, it’s wicked good. And dangerously close to home…
mmm, fried clams, haddock, big juicy, greasy onion rings and wet naps and plastic lobster bibs at a picnic table. Oh. My. God. *drool*
Waaaaahhhh.
I repeat, waaaaahhhhhhh.
heh heh
MMMmmmmm! Lobster rolls. I haven’t had a lobster roll in 14 years, and I really do miss them.
that title is from a song, isn’t it? i can’t quite get the tune…
Not that I know of.
Finan haddie is a strange concoction that comes out of Nova Scotia (I think). Think smoked haddock in cream gravy.
Update from Tanya:
“It’s from My Heart Belongs to Daddy.
If I invite a boy some night
To dine on my fine
Finnan haddie
I just adore his
Asking for more
But my heart belongs to Daddy”