Eating lobster

For a living, with the Governor

By Joan Lang

You think you had a rough day? Well, honey, don’t even go there, because I spent the day eating lobster at the governor’s mansion.

And that’s nothing compared to what the chefs did.

I am in Augusta at the Blaine House to be a judge in the seventh annual Great Taste of Maine Governor’s Tasting and Culinary Competition, sponsored by the Maine Lobster Promotion Council. Chefs from restaurants all over the state are competing in this year’s Taste, the culminating event of Maine Lobster Month in August. The competition and its attendant PR are the baby of Sue Barber, executive director of the MLPC, the nonprofit, marketing and promotional arm of the Maine lobster industry. A blonde little dynamo of a woman, she has been working on this event for months, coordinating all the details of bringing chefs, judges, press, lobster harvesters, retailers, processors, and state officials together on one warm, fine summer day.

Apart from that, the mechanics are pretty simple. Arriving early in the morning, ingredients and even equipment in hand, the chefs are here to demonstrate their creativity and competence at preparing original brunch recipes — this year’s theme — featuring lobster. They toil shoulder to shoulder in the Blaine House’s big kitchen, preparing individual plated portions of their inventions for the judges, who will then proceed to rip them apart.

We judges are whisked in by the back way, to avoid intermingling with the chefs. From years judging culinary competitions, I have learned to eat breakfast beforehand — the lucky chef who draws the first presentation has the advantage of fresh appetite as it is. Over the next two hours, in 15-minute intervals, we will taste, evaluate, discuss and rate nine different lobster dishes, on the basis of appearance, flavor, texture, presentation, and such seemingly arcane criteria as awareness of eating trends and category integrity. (The chefs will receive copies of our scoring worksheets, along with comments and suggestions.) Much as I love lobster, the whole thing can get pretty grueling, and I feel badly for the chefs who are presenting at the end of the day, when the judges are feeling a little bilious and overwhelmed.

And so I pace myself, through lobster roulade and lobster-stuffed french toast and lobster salad and three kinds of lobster crepes. We sniff, prod, poke, scribble; we put our fingers in the sauce — it’s everything my mother told me never to do at the table. Most of the stuff is pretty tasty, and it’s hard not to admire the guys for their gumption and willingness to cook in a strange kitchen — under the circumstances, I’d probably have trouble with peanut butter and jelly. But when the winning dish comes in, we all know it without even tasting.

The votes are tallied and we have Gold, Silver, and Bronze medallists. But that’s not all there is to the Great Taste, because about 100 guests are arriving any minute. Already the chefs have gathered together at stations set up in the public rooms, to dole out tastes of their lobster specialties to the invitees and honored guests, who will hang out in Governor King’s house and decide the Peoples Choice award.

I trawl around, sharklike. In every room . . . more lobster! It’s like one of those dreams where I’m at a huge buffet table — only I’ve just started a diet. I look at how the chefs are presenting their tasting portions and snoop on conversations; it’s obvious almost immediately that The People have some completely different opinions.

There’s Poland Springs and soft cider at the bar, and Angus King and first lady Mary Herman are circulating, like any good hosts. The Italianate governor’s mansion is beautiful, of course, with its broad porch and lovely gardens and a manly-looking billiard room in the back. Not bad for free room-and-board.

Sue Barber buttonholes me and asks me to do a little interview with the local TV station, and I barely have time to check my teeth for parsley flecks — what can you do when your public awaits? The little light on the camera flicks on, and my brain turns into one great, useless piece of jelly. “Wawk, wawk, wawk,” I gasp. “Glub, blub, bub.” And then a handsome man with a mustache is there, trying to feed me something — lobster? — with a fork. Merde, it’s the governor of Maine! I babble something incoherent and laugh, and then, thank god, the light goes off. Only then do I discover that there was a piece of paper napkin clinging to my chin the entire time. Is this to be my 15 minutes of fame, then?

Finally we all gather in the side garden for the speech-making and the awards-giving and the photograph-taking. It’s not like the Culinary Olympics in Frankfurt, where I was so tired I cried when the band played the contestants’ national anthems, but it’s been a good long day and everyone is just as happy to be here. Some of the chefs are yawning on their feet, but that’s no reflection on the importance of the event, because many of them have been working on this for months, too. They’ve taken a day off from their jobs during the height of the summer season to be here, and they’ve provided all the food and in many cases even the plates to feed 100 lobster-gobbling grazers and three persnickety judges.

Me, I’m just starting to daydream about what to have for dinner.

Oh, yeah. John Welch, chef-owner of the Castine Inn won first place for his Native Maine Lobster on Herbed Brioche, with Organic Greens, Shellfish Glaze and a Sherry Vinaigrette

Tony Frechette, chef of Café Stroudwater at the Embassy Suites Hotel in Portland, took the Peoples Choice Award for Maine Lobster Seafood Crepe with Lemon Goat Cheese Whipped Cream. n

Joan Lang can be reached at joanmlang@aol.com