"Bastien, you donut. You have fucked it up. You don't know where you are going. You aren't German- you are Turkish."
The conversation to Thurston's Lobster Pound, Bernard, Maine went something like that. Anyway, always back the Germans. Vorsprung durch technik. We did everything right.
I was expecting a poncey restaurant with valet service but Thurston's Lobster Pound was nothing more than a shack with a canopy. I swear it was colder inside that it was outside. How could this place serve up the zenith of seafood?
We chose our lobsters from the tank. I took a soft shell lobster as the young'uns are meant be tastier. No vicar jokes here please. The girl who picked out our lobster might have jumped out of the tank too. I'm not sure. The kitchen looked like more like a laundry than a kitchen. It all added to the experience.
Anyhow, we took our seats on the crappy tables and sipped on some really rather good Bar Habor Ale while waiting for our lobsters. Our name was called out, we picked them up and bibbed up ready to take it down. Someone couldn't work out how to use the crackers. I thought I was a pleb. Own up. It was either Jose or Bastien. On to the Maine event. What can I say apart from: eating lobster here (in Maine) will change your life for ever. Even G-Force built up a whirlwind to nosh down on some lobster. And he liked it too. Juices were flying everywhere, orifices sucked, Bastien moaning... I lived like a Roman in the time it took me to take down my lobster. We entered, we destroyed, we left. Everything about the experience was bang on the money. Freezing shack, good beer, amazing lobsteroonie... The price? I hear you ask. I think it came to about $30 all in for a 2 lb lobster, corn bread, cole slaw, a blueberry muffin and a pitcher of Bar Harbor Ale to share. Maybe someone can verify that?
The Ho Down says: We did everything right!
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