A Taste of Maine

Smell is among the most powerful memory triggers we have—far more potent than sight or sound in many cases. Flavor, too, is deeply tied to smell—what we perceive as taste is largely driven by aroma. When we eat something familiar, especially in a place that holds meaning, it’s not just our taste buds lighting up—it’s our memory centers.

When we return to familiar places, we often seek out meals that carry memory, nostalgia, and comfort—because sometimes, it’s not just our stomachs we’re feeding, it’s our sense of home. When a Mainer eats in Maine, it’s not just about the food. Eating is about coming home to flavors that feel like old friends. I went to Maine for creton, fried clams, and a whoopie pie from my sister’s freezer.

Some foods are more than just eating a meal. Some foods are part of the culture, the family history, the “you had to grow up here to like this” club. Creton is one of those foods. I don’t know anyone outside of Maine who eats it regularly, and honestly, I don’t know anyone who likes it unless they were practically weaned on it. For the uninitiated, creton is a French-Canadian pork spread, made mostly of ground pork and fat, simmered with onions and spices until it becomes the perfect consistency to spread on toast or an English muffin. In other words, creton is breakfast pâté from the North.

Creton’s roots run deep – It’s a traditional French-Canadian dish, and Maine’s large French-Canadian population helped keep it alive in local kitchens and breakfast tables. My hometown, Auburn, and its twin city Lewiston, have a strong French-Canadian heritage. Thousands of families came down from Quebec in the late 1800s to work in the textile mills along the Androscoggin River. My mom’s parents are among them. They brought their language, traditions, and recipes with them, which is why foods like creton are still a familiar breakfast staple in the area.

Creton for breakfast every day!

Mailhot’s, a well-known brand in Maine, has been making creton the same way since I was a kid. They haven’t bothered to mess with perfection. My sister, knowing my love for it, had some waiting in her fridge when we arrived. It’s not something you can whip up at home easily (unless you enjoy babysitting a pot of pork fat for hours), and it doesn’t travel well in carry-on. And since it’s essentially seasoned pork fat, maybe it’s for the best that I can only have it on vacation. Let’s just call it a “once in a while” treat that pairs perfectly with nostalgia and a hot cup of coffee.

Our other “must-have” while in Maine is the seafood platter. The plan was to eat at Boothbay Harbor, but in August, the parking situation is… impossible. So we went to The Taste of Maine instead, which is in Woolrich, on historic Route 1. They serve seafood that makes you temporarily forget about your cholesterol.

The Taste of Maine Restaurant has a big inflatable lobster on its roof.

The restaurant is known for having one of the largest lobster rolls in the world. It’s over two feet long and has over a pound and a half of lobster meat. It is listed on the menu as “market price.” The day we went the lobster roll market price was $160 which, coincidentally, was the same as the total for all five of our meals and beverages combined. (Ayuh, that’s about $100 bucks a pound for lobster.)

We got the fried seafood platter—clams, haddock, scallops, shrimp, coleslaw, and fries—and it was so big that Terri and I shared it, with leftovers for the next day. Fried food like this is not an everyday indulgence (unless you have a cardiologist on speed dial), but once a year in Maine, it’s basically mandatory.

At a younger age, this is one meal. Nowadays, it's about three meals.

Fried clams have New England bragging rights – Ipswich, Massachusetts gets credit for introducing deep-fried clams in 1916, but Maine perfected them—especially the whole-belly variety. The process is simple in theory: coat them in a light batter, then drop them into a vat of bubbling hot oil until they come out golden and crisp. I know this firsthand because two years of my high school I worked as a cook in a restaurant doing exactly that. It was fast, messy, and occasionally painful—let’s just say I had the splatter burns on my arms to prove my dedication to the delicacy. Back then, those little scars felt like a badge of honor. Now, they’re just part of my personal “seafood war stories.”

On the last full day of our trip, we had a lobster roll from Val’s Drive-In in Lewiston. Val’s is a local institution that is complete with carhop service, minus the roller skates. Since 1959, Val’s has been serving up carhop-style meals, making it one of the last classic drive-ins still operating in Maine. The reason to bring up Val’s is they serve a pretty good lobster roll.

Pretty much everybody knows that Maine is lobster country. The state supplies about 90% of the U.S. lobster catch. Lobstermen haul over 100 million pounds of lobster each year. Lobster rolls aren’t completely unique to Maine, but I swear they taste better when you’re within sniffing distance of saltwater and pine trees.

In case you don’t know, the lobster roll has strict culinary rules. True Maine style is served cold, lightly dressed with mayo, in a split-top hot dog bun or hamburger bun that’s been buttered and toasted. Mainers have opinions about this. Don’t tell us about a different way. We are the authority.

Val’s quarter-pound lobster roll was just right: not drowning in mayonnaise, which is key, because when you bite into a lobster roll, you want to taste the lobster, not a jar of mayo. This one passed the test with flying colors. And it didn't break the bank.

A lobster roll for lunch!

Last but not least, we have to talk about having whoopie pies. My sister let me have one from her freezer, which makes it just as tasty. The Maine whoopie pie is more than just a dessert—it’s a cultural icon and the official State Treat, celebrated for its nostalgic charm and deep roots in local tradition. Though other states like Pennsylvania and Massachusetts lay claim to its origin, Maine’s version has a distinct identity, thanks in part to Labadie’s Bakery in Lewiston, which began selling whoopie pies commercially in 1925 using a recipe that’s still in use today.

A classic Maine whoopie pie features two soft, chocolate cake-like cookies sandwiching a generous dollop of vanilla cream filling, often made with marshmallow fluff or buttercream. Its moist texture and balanced sweetness make it a staple at county fairs, bake sales, and roadside stands, where it’s cherished by generations of Mainers. It’s a must have.

That’s the beauty of eating in Maine. It’s not about clean eating or “superfoods.” It’s about traditions, flavors tied to the place, and a bit of “eat now, diet later” philosophy. Vacation calories don’t count, right? And when the food comes with a side of salt air, family memories, and a dash of local charm, it’s worth every bite. After all, you can’t put a price on a plateful of Maine memories… but you can probably put it on the menu at market price.