Skillet Doux

The Lobster Roll-Off - Chapter II - Belle Isle Seafood

Lobster Roll - Belle Isle Seafood	Dominic Armato

Our next stop on the Roll-Off takes us to Belle Isle Seafood, a highly regarded little seafood place that's purported to have an exceptional lobster roll. Located in East Boston, right on the edge of Winthrop, nestled against the base of a bridge that overlooks the ends of runways 4L/22R and 4R/22L of Logan International, and it absolutely looks the part.

	Belle Isle Exterior	Dominic Armato

The fact that we arrived on a grey New England winter day only drove it home, but this is a seafood shack in the true sense of the term, a decrepit-looking little waterside store that sells a range of seafood, both fresh and prepared. The kitchen, actually, is a little more versatile than you might expect, offering baked, stuffed, grilled, Cajun and teriyaki variations on top of the usual breaded and fried. Customers at lunchtime seemed evenly split between those seeking fresh seafood and those seeking prepared. Belle Isle most certainly isn't a restaurant, but there's a high counter running along two walls and six or seven stools for those wishing to dine in. So I ordered up my lobster roll, plus a cup of clam chowder for the little fella (it's his obsession, as of late), and couldn't have been more pleased that it took a good ten minutes for the fellow at the counter to hand over our food, indicating that it was being freshly prepared to order.

Lobster Roll - Belle Isle Seafood	Dominic Armato

The roll's a good one, its strength clearly being a big pile of meat -- claws, knuckles, tail and all -- the high point of which is that it's disassembled with such a light touch, it's almost as though a lobster is lying on the roll. The meat is fresh, tender and sweet, and when you come across a chunk like the one shown at the top of the post, it's hard not to get excited. Unfortunately, I otherwise had some issues with Belle Isle's offering. The few token leaves of lettuce are a non-issue, neither adding nor detracting. But the amount of mayo was a problem for me. The lobster is absolutely slathered in it, obscuring what should be the focus. This, from somebody who absolutely adores mayonnaise. And though the standard split hot dog bun was charred in a manner that suggested it had actually been grilled -- a nice touch -- I still found it kind of doughy and distracting. What's more, at $19, it's getting up there pricewise. Still, a good sandwich, and I'd get it again. But measured against the only other competition out there so far, I enjoyed it less and paid more for it. A clear victory for The Clam Box.

Belle Isle Seafood www.belleisleseafood.com 1267 Saratoga Street East Boston, MA 02128 617-567-1619 Sat - Thu 11:00 AM - 7:00 PM Fri 11:00 AM - 8:00 PM

1) The Clam Box 2) Belle Isle Seafood

The Lobster Roll-Off - Chapter I - The Clam Box

Lobster Roll	Dominic Armato

So, my time in Boston grows perilously short. I couldn't hope to put a tiny dent in my hitlist over the next few weeks (especially since we'll be out of town for one of them). But I know three things. First, I've very quickly become totally enamored of lobster rolls and my time to enjoy them is growing short. Second, it's really easy to drag the little ones around to seafood shacks in the afternoon and my son has become a clam chowder fiend so he's happy to come along. Third, we haven't had a good sandwich-off around these parts in far too long. So really, what better way to spend my last couple of weeks in New England than stuffing as much lobster into my face as is humanly possible?... Anyone?... Anything?... Didn't think so.

Let's get this Lobster Roll-Off Started!

For those who have been hanging around since the early days of Skillet Doux, or who have clicked through the archives or some of the favorite posts listed to the right, waaaaaay back in 2006 I undertook a year-long survey of some of Chicago's more notable Italian Beef stands. I visited a dozen, giving them all a ranking (yes, I know, I just railed against this practice yesterday... read the intro to the final Beef-Off roundup for an explanation) and getting to know all of the little variations and quirks that make Chicago's most underappreciated foodstuff special. And though they couldn't be more different in terms of flavor, the parallels between the Italian Beef and the Lobster Roll are striking. Both are long, torpedo-like sandwiches filled with a pile of a central ingredient. Both treat that central ingredient in minimal fashion, attempting to bring out its natural best. Both are served all over the city, with a particular focus on quirky old joints and little run-down shacks that tend to specialize in the same. Both live or die based on very subtle differences in their preparation. Both inspire rabid devotion in their fans and hot debates over which is the best. And perhaps most importantly, both absolutely scream out the region from which they originate.

On that last point, perhaps it isn't an apples to apples comparison. The Italian Beef is unquestionably a Chicago institution, whereas the Lobster Roll is more of a regional thing that can be found in abundance in the Boston area. But the similarities were striking enough and the sandwiches delicious enough to inspire another madcap dash around the city, sampling as many candidates as I can get my hands on. Plus, I'm a newbie here. I only just sampled my very first lobster roll this year, and I figured an outsider's perspective might be interesting to those who grew up on this stuff. So here are the rules:

• Time permitting, I will, once again, attempt to hit a dozen establishments (suggestions entirely welcome!), though obviously in a rather compressed timeframe this time around.
• Comparing Connecticut/hot/butter and Maine/cold/mayo would be an apples and oranges scenario, so I'm sticking to the cold.
• My thoughts will be based on a single visit, with the clear understanding that it may or may not be representative of the establishment's norm.
• The rankings themselves are completely subjective, very, very personal, and not at all intended to be taken seriously. Though I'll judge them relative to one another, this isn't actually an objective quest for "the best", but rather an attempt to familiarize myself with the institution, note the personal highlights of a whirlwind tour, and do so within a fun and slightly irreverent framework.

The survey is already well underway, with more than half a dozen places under my belt. And since this post is already a little lengthy, we'll start off with an abbreviated entry, since it's one that I just wrote about last week.

	Lobster Roll - The Clam Box	Dominic Armato

The Clam Box's lobster roll is, to my understanding, pretty much a textbook example of the genre and, thus, the perfect place to kick things off. The lobster is a sizable pile, though not intimidating, a good mix of claw, knuckle and tail -- a seemingly decent if not exceptional value for the $15.25 price tag. It's very lightly dressed with mayo, but otherwise seems unadorned with celery or any additions other than one possible exception noted below. It's chopped to a medium consistency, with some large chunks, most notably the claws, left largely intact and a few little bits of shredded tail hanging behind. The bread is the standard split hot dog bun that seems common around these parts (even if the fact that there's no "crust" on the outside is a bit of curveball for this native Chicagoan), and it's lightly toasted but otherwise unadorned. There's a token leaf of lettuce lining the bun, which pretty much gets lost under the salad, but I wonder if it isn't an attempt to keep the mayo from soaking into the bread, thereby destroying its integrity. If so, it's a wise and deft maneuver. There's a part of me that almost wanted to say I detected the slightest hint of mustard mixed into the salad, which would certainly be a departure. But if there, it was so subtle that I'm more inclined to believe it was my imagination. Really, the best way I can characterize The Clam Box's lobster roll is minimal. Anchored by some exceedingly tender, fresh lobster, there is little here in the way of distraction. A fine sandwich, one I enjoyed, and an excellent benchmark by which to judge the rest of the 2009 Lobster Roll-Off class.

And with that, we're underway!

The Clam Box

www.ipswichma.com/clambox/

246 High Street

Ipswich, MA 01938

978-356-9707

Call for hours, closed on December 14th for the winter, reopening in February

Westward, Ho!

The Desert	Dominic Armato

Boston, we hardly knew ye.

With apologies, again, for the coy references, it's official. We're on the move yet again, and right around the 1st of the year (exact date TBD), Skillet Doux will be relocating to Phoenix.

Yes, yes, we know, we just got here. But though the position wasn't available when we came to Boston, my ladylove's employer knew that we wanted to be with family, and they were generous enough to move us as soon as something opened up... even if it happened a lot faster than anybody expected.

With family in the city, it looks like we're finally planting roots for a little while. And while this tour of the eastern seaboard has been fun, from a blogging standpoint I'm looking forward to sticking around somewhere long enough to dig deep and really get into the food scene. Stylin' restaurants abound in the Valley of the Sun, but I have a hunch the hole-in-the-wall joints are more abundant than cursory internet research would suggest.

High or low brow, however, let's do this one more time... if you have any Phoenix intel, send it my way and we'll hit the ground running!

Pepe's

The Oven	Dominic Armato

Pizza appreciation is a funny, funny thing.

Is there any other foodstuff that generates such intense debate and passion? Is there anything else with so many widespread, varied and beloved regional variants? Are any other dishes scrutinized in such obsessive detail? "Best" is a word I'm trying very hard to eliminate from my culinary vocabulary. More and more these days, I find myself detesting the kind of food appreciation that seeks to judge everything on a one-dimensional continuum, where there is some kind of Olympian ideal to which pizza can aspire and everything other than this perfect union of bread and topping is somehow incorrect to varying degrees. How can one say that a Neapolitan pizza is "better" than a New York pizza is "better" than a New Haven pizza is "better" than a Chicago pizza is "better" than a California pizza? How do you even begin to compare them? In extreme cases, sure. If you're in a town with a great Neapolitan pizza joint and a handful of places whose pizza is a baby step above supermarket freezer fare, it's hard not to casually use the word "best" within that context. But generally speaking, I'm more interested in what makes the shining examples uniquely interesting than what makes one "better" than another.

That said, I'm comfortable saying that some pizza towns are better than others. And when looking at lists of the heavyweights like New York, Chicago and Naples, New Haven kind of sticks out. So when you've just moved to within spitting distance of a small-ish New England burg that, despite its size, purportedly houses some of the best pizza in the country, no matter how abhorrent you may find that classification, you have to go visit. And soon.

	The Kitchen	Dominic Armato

So we did. New Haven is about two and a half hours from Boston, so we made a Saturday of it. While my gut instinct (no pun intended) is to cruise into town and sample a minimum of three of New Haven's most highly-touted spots, that just wasn't going to be practical on this particular occasion. So when presented with the impossible choice between the big two (Pepe's and Sally's), the young Turk (Modern), and a number of others that are often billed as underappreciated gems, after changing my mind at least seventeen times, I finally circled back to the oldest and seemingly most popular, Pepe's, more officially known as Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana. Frank Pepe came to America from Italy, he opened up a pizzeria, and many decades later it's still turning out stellar pizza. A more detailed history I'm reluctant to provide, since claims that it was the first "American pizza" (not made, as far as I can tell, by the restaurant itself) strike me as rather dubious. But the place IS old, and very charming. Hardwood floors, wooden booths and tons of white tile immediately identify it as a place with some serious history. The menu has pizza. That's it. Pizza and drinks. Which is remarkably refreshing (the narrowness of the menu, that is, not the drinks themselves). Obviously, you make pizza for almost 85 years, you take it pretty seriously. And the kitchen houses a serious pizza oven. It's coal-fired, with an access door no more than a few feet wide, through which you can catch a glimpse of an oven that, if not for the height restrictions, looks big enough to roast a Buick. The depth doesn't quite come across in the photo at the top, but it seems to go on forever in there. Which is probably why all of the pizza peels hanging around the kitchen look to be about fourteen feet long.

Clam Pizza	Dominic Armato

Clam pizza is the signature pie here in New Haven, so that was set in stone as one of our contenders. The pizzas arrive, large, flat and irregularly-shaped, on rectangular aluminum trays lined with parchment paper. Of course, when it comes to pizza of the thin variety (Chicago deep dish should really be named something other than pizza so we can stop comparing it to everything else), the bread is everything, and in tasting and observing the bread, it's easy to see why Pepe's has made such a name for itself. "Neapolitan" is something of a misnomer, here. This isn't like any Neapolitan pizza I've ever tasted. Larger, for starters, thinner, absolutely, but most importantly, much crispier than any Neapolitan it's been my pleasure to consume. It's an extremely thin pizza, a touch thicker around the edges, beautifully browned all over and lovingly charred in places. It's no cracker crust, but it has a great chew and is remarkably crisp all the way to the center of the exceptionally large pie, partially a result of the oven's fuel, which burns very hot and very dry. The signature clam is very oily, very garlicky (we're talking large chunks) and very delicious, eschewing cheese (unless requested) so as not to bury the large, juicy fresh clams scattered about. A light dusting of dried oregano rounds out the toppings, and there's your New Haven specialty. I thought it could have used a little more clam, and would happily pay for some more on my next visit, but that aside, I can find absolutely nothing to complain about. When I try places that are touted as "the best in the country", I make it a rule to expect excellence rather than transcendence, and truly excellent it was. This is a damn fine pizza, full of character and flavor and a beautiful regional spin. Though I stop short of using such absolute superlatives, this is a pizza that deserves the rep.

	Red Pizza with Mushroom and Onion	Dominic Armato

The deliciousness didn't stop there, however, since I wasn't driving two and a half hours in either direction to try one pizza. For number two, we went with a simple red, topped only with the requisite tomatoes, mushrooms, onions and cheese. And while the unique regional flair of the clam put it over the top for me, I very nearly called this one my favorite. The "sauce" was, I believe, canned tomato unadulterated by anything other than olive oil (though I wouldnt swear to it), but at the risk of going all corporate speak, there was some seriously magical synergy going on here. What struck me at first was that this pizza, laden with wet tomatoes and cheese (though swimming in neither -- toppings are added with restraint), managed to stay relatively crisp in the dead center a good 5-10 minutes after hitting the table, despite the fact that it was mere millimeters thick at that point. The second thing that struck me was an incredible buttery quality to the flavor, so much so that, embarrassing as it was, I felt compelled to ask if they'd worked in some butter somehow. Not a bit, I was told. Something magical about the interaction between olive oil and tomato, I can only presume. In any case, this is some seriously magical stuff.

Two and a half of us nearly polished off two mediums, each of which is theoretically intended to serve 2-3. And with only a few token slices remaining, I was thisclose to ordering another to cart home for late night consumption. I didn't, and I later regretted it. Is it worth five hours of driving? Absolutely. I found myself considering it this morning. There's nothing inherently different about what goes into Pepe's. It's just a perfect example of how perfect technique can take the ingredients usually used to make run-of-the-mill junk and turn them into something truly exceptional. I won't call it "the best" -- I won't call any pizza "the best" -- but I now find myself just a little more sympathetic to those who do.

Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana
www.pepespizzeria.com
157 Wooster Street
New Haven, CT 06511
203-865-5762
Mon - Sat	11:30 AM - 10:00 PM
Sun	12:00 PM - 10:00 PM