Comestiblog

A Late Taste of the Season at Johnny's Reef

It's gritty, it's simple, it's unpretentious—and it's a relic.  Most of all, however, it's good.  After 64 years (although the sign proclaims 65) of dishing up tasty fried grub, Johnny's Reef, continues to draw hungry seafarers as well as landlubbers to the southern tip of City Island.

With sweeping views across the Sound to Long Island and a distant Manhattan skyline, this seaside cafeteria offers a great escape amid a hot, sunny afternoon.  While the weather may have turned colder, summer doesn't seem all that distant here.

To reach Johnny's Reef, one must travel the length of City Island past countless seafood places that range from grungy shacks to tony restaurants.  A glimpse of Johnny's exterior back wall—a first impression for many—reveals this eatery's place on the foregoing continuum: empty five-gallon coleslaw buckets and other service discards share their space with employees on a cigarette break.  Finding a parking spot can seem like a bumper car ride, especially when other drivers disregard the arrows on the pavement.  New visitors should not be discouraged by outward appearances, however; exceptional seafood awaits within.

The amusement park-like ambiance plays out further inside.  Resembling a midway, the restaurant's interior comprises a vast array of food, beverage, and service stations along an L-shaped counter that extends the length of two walls.  Tables and chairs are arranged to take advantage of the pleasant waterside views afforded by a wall of windows.

The noisy hustle and bustle, without directions for how to proceed, could conceivably overwhelm the novice.  Thus, a few guidelines here might not be amiss.  First, it's important to note that disparate foods and beverages are ordered and paid for separately.  Seek out the desired overhead menu, decide what to eat, and step up to a numbered station at the counter, where a helpful cashier will take your order as well as your payment (cash only).  When your order is ready, proceed to the service area, and help yourself to plastic utensils, condiments, and lots of napkins.  (The diner-style napkins are flimsy, wholly inadequate to the task, and will fly off the tray with every attempt to reach for one.)

Stop at the beverage station or at Johnny's Bar.  Don't be discouraged by the limited list of beers posted overhead; the bartender will offer additional (and more appealing) selections upon request.

If weather permits, carry your tray to a picnic table on the arena-sized terrace, where you can catch all the action that happens outside.  On a recent visit we were entertained by such divertissements as children feeding the Hitchcockian mob of gulls and hotdogging jet skiers determined to drown one another—all amid a spectacular sunset.  There seems to be a wind-tunnel effect in the vicinity:  if it is at all breezy, be prepared to batten down everything, including your plate and cup.  If it's cool or breezy, consider staying inside; the food cools quickly in the wind.

On my visits, I usually head straight to station 4 in the fry section.  Though the shrimp ($13) are rather good, I almost always order the fillet ($13), a superb fried sole that is without peer.  Moments after the cashier turns and calls out, "filete," an overflowing basket (large enough to share) of fish atop a mound of fries arrives on my tray, together with a paper plate.  Although a single wedge of lemon is included, I always ask for more.  (This is where to make that request.)  Tartar sauce, ketchup, hot sauce, and salt also complement the fish and chips well.  To wash it all down, I much prefer beer to Johnny's overly sweet cocktails.

Golden-brown perfection: Johnny's fillet atop a mound of fries

While the fried shrimp is good, the fillet is better

Where's the slaw? It's hidden somewhere among the fries

To put it simply, Johnny's fillet represents some of the best fried fish one might hope to encounter anywhere.  Fresh, and fried perfectly to a delicious golden brown, the fillet is sweet and has a nearly silken texture; its breading and spicing complement the mild fish without overwhelming it.  For some, it could be the sole reason to come here.  The french fries are fairly thin, and quite delicious.  Buried within this fresh, hot, not-too-greasy treasure, is a tiny container of coleslaw, which, especially after being heated by the fries, tastes every bit as industrial as its five-gallon container would suggest.  Fortunately, the slaw is the only weak element of the meal.

As the season winds down, we've gone the long way around the island to come to a conclusion that is short and sweet: For a huge portion of super fresh, perfectly prepared fish fry at a reasonable price with a great view of the water, it's hard to imagine any place better than Johnny's Reef.

Johnny's Reef Restaurant

2 City Island Ave
Bronx, N.Y.  10464-1607  (map)

(718) 885-2086

https://www.johnnysreefrestaurant.com/

By bus:  Bx29

Not Worth the Buck's

Had we not enjoyed gracious service and fine dishes at Buck's Restaurant in Brooksville, Maine a couple of years ago, we might have been merely annoyed, rather than utterly shocked, by the unforgivable rudeness we encountered there recently.

While the first incident upon our arrival was easily the most offensive, it presaged what was to be a long evening of annoyances and disappointments.

When we approached the lectern, the hostess was engaged in what was clearly a personal phone call.  After chatting a few more moments, she turned to us and asked, sotto voce, lest she disturb her caller, "Jones?"  "No, Smith," I replied.  She glanced at the reservation book, mouthed "oh," and without further words to us, resumed her telephonic gabfest, grabbed two menus, and walked into the dining room.  The first table onto which she began placing our menus ("seating us" would be inaccurate, as she never made eye contact or spoke with us) was by far the worst in the house, and should probably not even exist: a two-top along the restaurant's main artery that required a person of average build to turn slightly in order to maneuver between it and a nearby guest.  Upon requesting a different table, we were led down to a two-top in the confined, sunken bar area that was dominated by a party of ten that evening.  Though the large, convivial group did not behave offensively in any manner, the acoustics were such that their modest merriment reverberated to a distracting level.  Unfortunately, no other table was available to us.

All the while, the so-called hostess never abandoned her telephone call.  Whether she uttered any words beyond the ones explaining our dearth of seating options, we can't recall.  Of what we can be certain, however, is that, with one notable exception, neither of us had ever been treated so rudely by any greeter in any establishment—not even in the grungiest beanery.  Worse yet, this ungraciousness could not be ascribed to the callowness of youth; nay, the gray-haired woman masquerading badly as a hostess that evening was clearly old enough to have known better.

Normally, while waiting for a server, we chat with our host or hostess briefly, and then between ourselves.  That evening, however, the two of us had yet to exchange a single word; so stunned were we by this woman's rudeness that we simply stared at each other in silence, eyes wide, and mouths agape.

The menus revealed further signs of lax management.  Various errors on the food and beverage cards suggested carelessness and inattention to detail—characteristics entirely too consistent with our reception.

Although our waitress was polite and seemingly well-meaning, she wasn't very knowledgeable or particularly attentive.  About a minute after requesting olive oil for our bread, we watched as she engaged another server in a lengthy conversation in the next room.  By the time she returned senza olio, it was already too late; our starters had arrived.

Insalata [di] Frutti di Mare

We expect very fresh seafood in Maine, especially if it is caught in the immediate vicinity and served in an upscale setting.  Alas, the modestly sized yet grandly priced ($15) Insalata Frutti di Mare [sic] contained mussels that were clearly stale and very, very close to being bad.  The three small pieces of lobster were reasonably sweet, however, and seemed to be the freshest among their plated sea mates.  And while the large shrimp were fairly good, they should have been fresher.  The snap of biting into a very fresh shrimp is unmistakable.  Sadly, these little crustaceans had drifted beyond their "snapping point" at least a day or two earlier.  The baby octopus and calamari were similarly unremarkable.  To recapitulate: Buck's charges $15 for a salad comprising a few stale mussels, about an ounce and a half of lobster, three large (not jumbo) shrimp, a tiny octopus tentacle, and a few pieces of calamari (which cost the restaurant almost nothing).

"Classic" Caesar Salad

The Classic Caesar Salad ($9) telegraphed its inadequacy by claiming to include a "creamy parmesan" [sic] rather than an authentic Caesar dressing.  Not surprisingly, there weren't the slightest hints of fresh garlic, anchovy, Dijon mustard, fresh lemon juice, or egg yolk—the sine quibus non of a true Caesar.  Inexplicably, this "classic" was served with a wedge of tomato.  (Et tu, tomate?)  On the positive side, the shaved Parmesan atop the romaine added a nice touch, but it alone could not elevate this salad above banality.

Poached Atlantic Salmon

The Poached Atlantic Salmon ($24) owed its flavor and tender moistness to freshness and competent simmering.  Sadly, it had been drowned in a creamy dill sauce that was trite and unimaginative.  The boiled red-skinned potatoes with parsley butter were even less stimulating.  Worst of all, however, were the vegetables that somehow managed to avoid both seasoning and cooking.  (More about that anon.)  With regard to its appeal, this course was an apt successor to the Caesar salad.

Tuscan-style Rabbit

The only highlight of the evening—for which the chef truly deserves kudos—was the Tuscan-style Rabbit ($27): rabbit leg served in a delicious sauce featuring a medley of porcini and button mushrooms, rabbit sausage, olives, and white wine.  (As with the seafood salad, it happened to be the priciest item in its menu category.)  At its very best, rabbit tends to be a bit dry.  This preparation, however, was absolutely succulent, and seasoned to perfection.  The deep, earthy flavors of the wild and cultivated mushrooms, together with the savory brown sauce, created an inspired interplay that enhanced the rabbit's own inherent earthy (but not quite gamy) flavors and exquisite moistness.  (Think primal and moist forest floor in their very best senses.)  Alas, the inspiration did not extend to the bed of polenta upon which the rabbit lay; the cornmeal tasted as though it hadn't seen a grain of salt or any other seasoning.

Taunting the rabbit with raw vegetables

Finally, and again, inexplicably, the green beans and carrots that accompanied both main courses were unseasoned and raw; the squash, though steamed superficially, was raw inside.  Plating this small offering separately from the rabbit further underscored its oddness.

Aside from the outstanding rabbit, the only other vaguely positive aspect of the evening, was the reasonable wine list.  It is far too common to encounter larcenous prices 200, 300, or even 400 percent above retail.  (Restaurants purchase wines wholesale at prices roughly two-thirds those of retail.)  Buck's, however, seems to price its wines about 100 percent over retail—even slightly lower in a few instances—for which it deserves praise.  We enjoyed a relatively inexpensive bottle of rosé, the $24 price of which seemed quite fair.

Although the dessert menu beckoned, we'd already had quite enough—in more ways than one.  We simply wanted to leave.  But first, we had to point out that we'd been charged twice for the wine.  (How ironic!)  The hostess's assurance that she would have caught the error at the time of payment was most comforting, however.

UFO sighting: Unidentified Flecking Objects on the wall

As if we hadn't suffered enough indignities theretofore, the final insult was yet to come.  I had noticed something that had been splattered onto the wall next to my Comestaccomplice's seat (by a previous diner, possibly).  It was clearly a splash pattern that had dried to form an unheavenly constellation of white droplets against a crimson backdrop.  My companion dipped her serviette into water and, without difficulty, wiped some of it off.  As we left, we notified the hostess of the maculate wall.  But instead of sparing a few more seconds of her precious time to acknowledge our concern, she dismissively imputed the mess to an imperfection in the plaster.  (Should a plaster problem exist in fact, the area ought to be wiped down between seatings, covered by something decorative, or repaired.)  Allowing guests to think they are sitting beside filth is unacceptable.

This was once a very pleasant restaurant.  Alas, an ill-mannered hostess, a minimally trained waitress, misspelled menu items, and a food-flecked wall constituted an unsavory recipe that left a bad taste in our mouths.  What a pity the management has become so uncaring and apathetic.  Unless it undergoes a drastic reorganization, Buck's will not see my bucks again.

Buck's Restaurant

6 Cornfield Hill Rd
Brooksville, ME  04617-3654  (map)

(207) 326-8688

https://bucksrestaurant.weebly.com/

A Fluke?

No, this is not another rant about a Georgetown law student.  Rather, it's a pictorial post of a marvelous meal I enjoyed recently:  Fluke Piccata.  Also known as summer flounder, fluke is found along the Atlantic Coast of the United States and Canada.  This particular flatfish specimen hailed from the waters off Long Island.  It was prepared with lemon, butter, and spices, topped with capers, and served with white beans.  Molto delizioso!

Red's Eats: A Wicked Good Lobster Shack in Maine

An article on the best Lobster Roll in Maine (and hence, the world) with no mention of Red's Eats in Wiscasset?

Perhaps maine. The Magazine (A-List, Lobster Rolls, August 2010, p. 49) thinks itself too highfalutin to follow the herd, to wait on that hour-long line with hoi polloi.  (Or perhaps the writer simply required instant gratification.)  No such pretensions here.  Part of the charm of Red's is, indeed, to stand on line and trade stories with both aficionados and newbies.  Another wonderment is to contemplate the bidirectional logjam on U.S. Route 1 through Wiscasset—cars farther than the eye can see or the telephoto lens can capture.

Distractions aside, the main event at Red's is, without question, the singularly delicious ("wicked good," in local parlance) Lobster Roll: the meat of more than one lobster, served on a grilled New England-style hot dog bun with love and artistry by the same small handful of friendly, hard working folks day in, day out.  The extravagant sandwich ($18.95) contains pure, fresh lobster only; drawn butter and mayonnaise are available upon request.  Others have described it in minute detail, and there's little to be added except to ratify, without hesitation, the general consensus that this is, claws down, the best lobster roll on earth.

Housed in a diminutive trailer-turned-shack that has stood in the same spot since 1954, Red's Eats became a favorite among lobster roll enthusiasts after Allen W. Gagnon bought the business in 1977.  Disgusted by an inferior roll he'd tried—made with frozen lobster and various fillers—he was determined to "make a lobster roll that's a lobster roll."  Though Al Gagnon died just over two years ago at the age of 71, his legacy lives on through his family.  Serving as manageress and cashier, daughter Debbie Cronk is also Red's official publicist, having recently penned a book with Virginia Wright entitled Red's Eats: World's Best Lobster Shack.  (The name Red, incidentally, antedates the late Mr. Gagnon.  Though he adopted the sobriquet, he was not the eatery's namesake—that appellative distinction belongs to Red Delano, one of the original owners.)

Interestingly, Red's Eats is not just a lobster shack.  In addition to its famous signature sandwich, Red's stands out in other culinary ways.  My Comestaccomplice had eaten here previously, but following a lobstah overdose from a week in Maine, opted for the double cheeseburger.  Her burger was excellent, as were the crisp onion rings, creamy Round Top ice cream, and locally produced Cranberry Island Kitchen Whoopie Pies, all of which we enjoyed on this visit.

Red's offers a rather extensive menu for those whose first choice is not crustacean.  While our experience is limited to the aforementioned items, we are pretty confident that anything at Red's is among the finest of its kind.

The blueberry shake—another Maine speciality

After spending an hour or more in stalled traffic, the idea of waiting on line yet another hour may seem beyond the pale.  Nevertheless, Red's is a quintessentially Maine experience—or a worldwide one, by some accounts—that is not to be missed as an important claws of a family vacation narrative.

Red's Eats

41 Water Street (NE corner Main St-U.S. 1)
Wiscasset, ME   04578  (map)

(207) 882-6128

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Wiscasset-ME/Reds-Eats

Debbie Gagnon Cronk

A perfect combination: Drawn butter with my Lobster Roll

Red's Eats seating

2002 WQED video featuring the late Allen Gagnon

Landry's, Gateway to Tampa

My visits to Tampa, Florida customarily begin and end at Landry's at Rocky Point.  The restaurant's proximity to Tampa International Airport and its lovely waterfront setting make it a convenient and relaxing dining spot—indoors or alfresco—before or after a flight.

As its name implies, Landry's Seafood House specializes in sea fare—with a bayou flair.  While dishes featuring catfish, grouper, red snapper, redfish, mahi-mahi, and gulf shrimp showcase the Gulf of Mexico's bounty, toppings such as Pontchartrain (creamy white wine sauce with mushrooms and jumbo lump crabmeat), crawfish étouffée (a tan roux with sautéed crawfish tails), and Acadiana (crawfish tails and corn pico de gallo in an Andouille cream sauce) add a savory Louisiana touch.  Aside from its seafood offerings, the menu throws a bone to landlubbers in the form of a few beef and fowl dishes.  Salads, pastas, burgers, and sandwiches are also available.

Though the wine list is unexceptional, it does offer a reasonable number of selections by the glass.  On my last visit, however, I forwent my usual libation in favor of Landry's signature drink: the 21-ounce Mai Tai ($7.99), a cocktail made with light and dark rums, Crème de Noyaux (an almond-flavored liqueur made from fruit pits), pineapple juice, and sweet-and-sour mix.  Its tropical flavors were quite refreshing.

Fried Oysters with steak fries and onion strings

Starters I've sampled have tended to be somewhat oily and insipid.  The Fried Calamari ($8.99 lunch; $9.99 dinner) is a typical example: it's greasy, limp, and considerably less tasty than similar preparations at other restaurants.  I've found the soups to be a better choice.  Landry's New England Clam Chowder ($4.99 lunch; $5.99/$7.99 dinner), for instance, is quite delectable (though its subtle smoky flavor diminishes its authenticity slightly).

All main courses include Landry's Famous Salad Bowl—a satisfying, unlimited serving of fresh greens, tossed tableside.  (The creamy, golden Italian dressing, incidentally, is a superior alternative to the standard vinaigrette.)  A tasty loaf of hot, crunchy garlic bread accompanies the salad.  (Please note that within the past year, garlic bread is served upon request only.  Be sure to issue your request!)

For my main course, I usually order a broiled, fresh fish.  I particularly enjoy the firm, moist Gulf Snapper ($18.99 lunch; $21.99 dinner) blackened ($1 additionally).  The Cajun-style seasoning complements the snapper's mild, nutty flavor perfectly—thus rendering the small cup of dipping sauce superfluous.  The rich and flavorful vegetable risotto is a well-chosen accompaniment.  I can also recommend the Catfish Fillets ($9.99 lunch; $16.99 dinner), another of my favorites.

Blackened Gulf Snapper with vegetable risotto

While I've never tried Landry's Bananas Foster (their signature dessert), I recommend the Key Lime Pie ($5.99)—a pleasing combination of sweetness and lime.  (My choice is based on a bifurcated desire to preserve my fond memories of Brennan's musaceous original and to enjoy a native citrus pie whose authentic confection is scarce outside Florida.)

Although Landry's has served as my welcoming gateway to the Tampa Bay area for some time, its overall atmosphere has suffered a decline since the departure of general manager Howard Cohen (the last to have his name inscribed on the front door) a couple of years ago.  Most notably, the reception and service now seem to lack their erstwhile vitality and spirit.  The food quality remains rather good, but the mood has waned somewhat.  I sincerely hope Landry's management will turn the corner soon.

Landry's Seafood House

7616 West Courtney Campbell Causeway (SR 60)
Tampa, FL   33607-1432   (map)

(813) 289-7773

http://www.landrysseafoodhouse.com/

Every sixth meal is free (up to $7.99 for lunch or $9.99 for dinner) with Landry's Free Meal Ticket.

A Must-Sea Stop in Stonington

Stonington, Maine has many charms in the way of scenery, history, and seafood.  But if there is one place not to miss, it falls into the third category.  Stonington Sea Products is a mecca for the seafood aficionado.  Whether your preference is smoked or fresh, it's hard to beat SSP's catch for taste, quality, and price.

Richard Penfold brought his authentic, centuries-old Scottish cures and smoking techniques (using Scottish kilns) to Maine from the Shetland Isles.  His uncompromising standards are evident in SSP's products.  Everything we've sampled is first-rate.  Our favorite item to take home—available only in the fish shop—is the smoked salmon trim.  Six ounces of heavenly, smoky-sweet salmon costs only $4.60—an extraordinary value.  We've also enjoyed the smoked trout, mussels, and Maine shrimp.  The smoked Arctic Char from our most recent visit became one of our all-time favorites.  There are countless other options on the smoked menu alone, and the variety of fresh fish and shellfish is at least as extensive.  All from a tiny counter area that barely accommodates three customers at a time.  Who'd have guessed?

Stonington Sea Products

100 North Main Street (Route 15)
Stonington, ME   04681

(888) 402-2729 or (207) 367-2400

http://www.stoningtonseafood.com/

A Cockatoo in a Goose Cove

What a shame, we thought, as we approached the sign outside the old Cockatoo seafood shack at Webb Cove in Stonington.  It seemed another one had bitten the dust.  Though mainly a takeout place with limited seating (four tables, alfresco, on a small porch), the food was superb.  But wait, they're not closed—the sign says they've simply moved!  Smiles returned to our faces.

Suzen Carter is arguably the best chef on Deer Isle.  Apparently, a wealthy benefactor from St. Thomas, Virgin Islands agrees.  So much so that he purchased the erstwhile Goose Cove Lodge, with its spectacular perch overlooking Penobscot Bay, to provide Suzen an environment befitting her cooking.

This was by no means a simple upgrade.  It was an overwhelming leap, from a tiny adjunct to a seafood market, to a large-scale, upmarket restaurant.  By July of 2007, Suzen found herself running both restaurants while running herself ragged in the process.  This year, the small eatery at Webb Cove did not reopen, allowing Suzen to devote her full attention to her new culinary showplace.  Her husband, Bradley Carter, a fisherman, continues to operate Carter's Seafood market at the old Cockatoo site on Oceanville Road.

As we approached the new Cockatoo Portuguese Restaurant and entered the reception area, the lovely setting and gracious welcome portended the pleasurable evening that awaited us.  Each table in the dining room affords a water view, but ours was among the few with a completely unobstructed ocean vista.

Our helpful waitress started by presenting some rather banal-looking slices of bread.  Looks can indeed be deceiving.  The moist, warm bread was ever-so-slightly seasoned with a garlic butter, and was an appetizing beginning.  Before ordering, we were told that the chef treats her clientèle as family and gives each dish individual attention, presenting it only when it meets her high standards.  Thus, we were cautioned, the resulting wait could be significant.  Nevertheless, with such appealing bread to tide us over, we were not the least bit concerned.  As it turned out, we had barely finished the tasty slices when our first course arrived.  (Apparently, timing has been a problem, however.  The following day, a member of the Cockatoo staff recognized us.  Her first concern, even before asking how we liked the food, was to make sure we'd not waited too long for our dinners.)

Suzen Carter, an Azorean native, spent part of her childhood in Fall River, Massachusetts.  Her Portuguese menu emphasizes dishes that take advantage of the Carter family's access to the North Atlantic's bounty.  As we gazed about the dining room, we noticed that nearly every table had ordered the stunning, enormous lobster-capped Paelha platter, and wondered whether this was the meal here.  Normally, we like to order different dishes for the sake of variety.  But, after perusing the menu and hearing the specials, there was just one choice we both felt presented a unique opportunity—the just-harpooned Swordfish Mozambique.

We were similarly like-minded about our starter: clam chowder.   We should have realized that we were ordering the Portuguese-inspired New England variety typically served in Fall River, New Bedford, and Providence.  Rather than being thick and creamy, this chowder is based on a thin, milky chicken broth.  It is not our favorite preparation, but no one could argue against the freshness of the ingredients and the deft hand of its subtle seasoning (both qualities, it was becoming clear, being hallmarks of Suzen's exacting cooking standards).

The Swordfish Mozambique arrived in a beautiful presentation.  A generously sized steak lay atop a mound of deeply golden spaghetti, colored by saffron and turmeric, the dish's predominant spices.  Tossed with the pasta was a wide variety of perfectly cooked, garden-fresh vegetables, including broccoli, squash, and green beans.  The fresh fish melted on the palate, and the spicy noodles were delicious.  This is the one dish whose seasoning was decidedly unsubtle, with Suzen's judicious touch keeping everything in perfect balance.  We were delighted by the Mozambique style's piquancy and unfamiliar combination of flavors.

Aveleda Fonte Vinho Verde was our cellar selection.  This Portuguese "green wine's" light, refreshing, pétillance is an ideal partner to grilled fish.  Its lively freshness also makes it a lovely summertime quencher.  (Incidentally, verde, or green, refers to the wine's youth rather than to its color.)

Our meal was rounded out by an unusual but thoughtful dessert.  After the ceremonial exchange of first slices, a couple was kind enough to share their wedding cake with all the restaurant's guests.  Suzen had created a beautiful, tiered white cake with wild blueberry filling for their big day.  The quality of her pastry is equal to that of her savory creations.  My dining partner remembers fondly the desserts at the former location.

Though the prices at The Cockatoo are not so affordable as those of most of Deer Isle's family-oriented places, they are reasonable for what is delivered.  They represent a happy departure from over-inflated prices and their corresponding egos in the kitchen.  Fortunately, this restaurant has neither.  It is a warm, welcoming destination with food as sumptuous as the views.  It is a place that hasn't seen the last of us!

The Cockatoo Portuguese Restaurant

300 Goose Cove Road
Deer Isle, ME   04627   (map)

(207) 348-2300

Open Memorial Day weekend through Columbus Day.

http://www.thecockatoorestaurant.com/

The Lobster Warren of Kittery, Maine

Ayuh, Comestiblog heads Down East to sample some of Maine's attractions.  The first thing to greet us upon crossing the Piscataqua River from New Hampshire into Maine on U.S. 1 is the sign for Warren's Lobster House in Kittery.   Founded by Warren "Pete" Wurm in 1940 (when the price of lobster was 25¢ a pound), this waterside eatery has evolved from a six-stool, walk-up clam-and-lobster stand into a 350-seat restaurant—replete with its own lobster pound and full-service bakery—serving seafood as well as landlubber fare.  In addition, Warren's has a 200-foot boat dock for those arriving by water.

The New England clam chowder, salad bar, "wicked good lobstah," and fresh fish we enjoyed during our first visit last winter occasioned our return this August.  Since I'm not a crustacean aficionado and because my dining companion wanted to try something different, neither of us ordered lobster this time.  Besides, we were headed further up the coast deeper into lobster mecca.

Unfortunately, our hostess was somewhat abrupt and curt.  (When will restaurants learn to put friendly people on the front line?)  Once we were seated, however, things improved slightly.  We started with a couple of trips to the soup and salad bars.  Warren's purports to  have "the seacoast's finest salad bar."  With more than 50 fresh items from which to choose—including such Yankee staples as pickled Brussels sprouts, mustard pickles, and baked beans—this alone could constitute a meal.  Among the many mayonnaise-based salad options, the coleslaw was particularly good.

My Comestaccomplice ordered the mussels, which came with a lemony wine broth containing lots of garlic, while I chose the naked salmon, broiled with just a "touch of oil and spice."  The mussels were extremely fresh and tasty, though the broth was thin and underseasoned.  The abundance of garlic, however, rescued the dish.  The naked fish, on the other hand, was overcooked and would have benefited from a little dressing up.  To make matters worse, my vegetables, whose flavors had been thoroughly annihilated during the cooking process, arrived long after I had finished my main course.  They were certainly not worth the wait … or anything else, for that matter.

Overall, this experience was mixed.  Though my friend's meal was rather good, mine was mediocre.  The unfriendly receptionist's deportment earned Warren's a demerit and resulted in a less satisfactory visit than our first one.

Despite the bribe to visit the gift shop (a key, presented with the check, that may unlock a treasure chest prize), the kitschy and overpriced tourist trap is best avoided.  Far more rewarding is a leisurely perusal of the entry to Warren's dining area.  It features an interesting montage of early menus and other restaurant memorabilia.

Warren's Lobster House

11 Water Street-U.S. 1
Kittery, ME   03904-1629   (map)

(207) 439-1630

http://www.lobsterhouse.com/