The Maine diet: now there is an oxymoron for you. Okay, so if you work sixteen-hour days wrestling hundreds of fifty-pound lobster traps out of the sea, then maybe you can get away with a 5,000 calorie daily diet. Otherwise, those fried belly clams, bowls of lobster bisque, and generous scoops of fresh made Maine blueberry ice cream are bound to catch up to you.
We have been enjoying local fare from the tall pine state for more than a week now, and regrettably I must confess that Bar Harbor Ale does NOT have any discernible slimming properties. I cannot snap my jeans, and my belt is on its last setting. Unfortunately, I am not strong enough to resist the temptation to polish off the last piece of deep golden fried haddock left from Nathan’s unfinished child plate of fish ‘n chips. And don’t get me started on the buttery, garlic mussels; fat, stuffed lobster rolls; and infinite number of ice cream flavors.
At Ben ‘N Bill’s Ice Cream shop on Bar Harbor’s Main Street I ask for a taste of their world-famous lobster ice cream, reported to be a bestseller shipped around the globe. Maybe if I can combine my two biggest vices, then I can split my sins in half? Or maybe the unlikely combination will act as a kind of aversion therapy curing me of my cravings? Nope. No such luck. While I do not need to repeat this particular gustatory experiment, I have to say it’s not bad. But don’t worry; I have no plans to ship any back home just yet. I guess the only thing to do is sign on as a fishing boat deckhand and hope that the vocational experience of trapping, gutting, and cleaning fruits of the sea will prove to be unsavory enough to cure me of my insatiable appetite for all things Maine. Until then, I am in the market for some comfy sweat pants with cute little crustaceans down the front and a clever trap door on the rear.