“Is this ok to eat?” I asked the chef standing near the grill.
He snickered to himself, and said, “Oh yeah. It’s good isn’t it.”
“Mm hmm,” I murmured mid-bite.
It was terrific. It was salmon. Fresh North Atlantic Salmon to be exact, and it was delicately seared on the outside and raw in the middle. The chef told me that’s the best way to serve it. He could tell I wasn’t from around here, and that I’d been eating less-than-fresh and overcooked seafood all my life. It made the three-hour stop in Portland all the more worth it.
It was the major stop on a six and a half hour drive from Boston to Presque Isle, and just the welcome to Maine moment I was looking for. Although, the billboard just across the border was a tremendous sigh and sign of relief as I entered the Pine Tree State. Continue reading
Jake Berent 