I Live in New England and I Don’t Get the Lobster Roll Hype
Photo by Alexander Grey/Unsplash
When I first moved to Boston, there was a lot I was excited for: walking in between the old brick buildings on my way to class, the slow change of seasons I never experienced when I lived in the South, even the blustery snowstorms that would keep me encased in my studio apartment, making me feel like I was living in a snow globe. But what I was most excited about was the prospect of taking my first-ever bite of a lobster roll, savoring what I imagined must be an earth-shattering culinary delight.
To me, lobster rolls were a symbol of summertime, so although I moved to Boston in December, I waited until June to seek out the seafood sandwich of my dreams. In New England, lobster rolls are primarily served two different ways: with butter or with mayo. This is a contentious topic, but everyone I knew who had indulged in a proper lobster roll told me I should go for the buttered version, so as I visited a quaint restaurant outside the city on one of the first warm days since I had arrived, that’s exactly what I ordered. I sat in anxious anticipation, ready to devour this shining beacon of New England cuisine.
My $30 sandwich arrived, carefully nestled in a red-and-white checkered paper tray, the butter-soaked orangey-pink flesh of the meat almost completely obscuring the slightly crisped, buttery roll. Chunks of lobster fell out of the roll and back onto the tray as I lifted the sandwich to my mouth, already salivating in anticipation. But upon taking my first bite, I was dismayed to discover that my lobster roll tasted of little more than butter. Yes, there’s a textural element there—the bouncy, almost chewy texture of the lobster worked well with the toasted roll—and the lobster itself was obviously fresh with its light, bright sea water-y flavor. My impression of the dish as a whole, though, was lackluster.
After this disappointing (and expensive) experience, I figured that I just hadn’t gone to the right spot, despite following the recommendations I’d received. So I went to more restaurants, tried more lobster rolls. Sometimes I stuck with the butter recommendation; other times, I would switch it up and try the mayo. But after five or six lobster rolls, all of which came with a hefty bill for a single sandwich, I started to realize that I wasn’t going to the wrong places—I just didn’t like lobster rolls.