Lobster Country

They’re pretty patriotic about lobster in this part of the world.  We seem to be embracing the culture more and more each year and summertime for us is starting to revolve around trips up (or down…but, usually up) the coast to sample the offerings of various lobster bungalows, fish houses, or clam shacks. Recently, we made our way up to the top of Cape Ann for lunch and had some pretty tasty (“no nonsense, no celery”) lobster rolls at this place:

The Lobster Pool is located just North of the town of Rockport, on the rocky edge of picturesque Folly Cove. It isn’t fancy—you order your food at the counter (just past the pick-your-own-lobster tanks) and when your number is called, you can either sit at one of the tables inside or take your tray of fried/steamed creatures-from-the-sea out to one of the picnic tables on a small lawn overlooking the water.

As Rockport is a dry town, they have an open BYOS policy (Bring Your Own Spirits). We planned ahead and brought beer to enjoy with our lobster rolls, though, LSB was envious of the people at another picnic table who were sipping glasses of cold, crisp-looking white wine (JOOPS: Jealous Of Other People's Spirits).

After our lunch on a picnic table in the sun, we moved to a rustic wooden swing facing the sea and stared out at the boats, as well as, a couple of shockingly large raccoons climbing among the rocks across the cove.

It was a perfect New England afternoon--well, except maybe for the small red lobsters painted on the wood floor marking the way to (and eventually into) the restrooms.  I understood the point behind it, but I found it slightly unsettling--much like the giant raccoons crawling around in broad daylight.  My guess is that they were there for the lobster, too.  They should be able to find the restrooms.