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| Let's call this tent camping hair. |
Ok, I have no idea why I should be writing to you about these things, but when I look at pictures of these bright red, rock hard, beach bodies, I can’t help myself.
As an FYI, I have harbored a life-long dislike of seafood that I have recently fought against with the tenacity of a salty old sea captain. Check out my
Fish Fears post for a full run down.
My trip to Maine last week resulted in a huge break through. Sign after sign advertised lobster rolls and lobster stew, steam lobsters and boiled. The sea I gazed upon was full of lobster pots with their innocuous buoys floating on the surface of the water. It was a complete set up.
This lady is loading lobsters into a wood fuel steamer- come now- my food loving soul could not fight the power any longer. The state of Maine demanded that I like lobster before I crossed the border back into New Hampshire- and gosh darn it the state got its way.
Sweet, rich, and sometimes chewy, Zack and I shared bits of those $6.50 a pound sea roaches with finger tips slicked in drawn butter. Until that moment, I never understood the phrase “sweet surrender”. How sweet it was though- how sweet it was.
Broken down and rebuilt becoming a gourmand by coercion and force- click here to have Traveling Taste Buds delivered to your email for free.
