As someone who lived in New England the first 25 years of my life, I can tell you that there is no better way to practice "eat local" than on a rickety wooden boardwalk Down East. The lobster's right out of the ocean, the butter's probably from two states over at most (in a part of the country where "two states over" means a three-hour drive), and even the tourists are rarely from farther away than Boston or Providence.

All of the above in a place that was doing local before local was cool, that doesn't need the Whole Foods corporate-packaged kind of organic tomatoes (and other veggie-garden produce) when hobbyist gardening traces its heritage back to World War I, and the people...well, the people are what I miss most about home.

Lobster's cheap because it costs what it needs to cost for the Down Easters. No high-minded theories required.

I insisted on having two for lunch when I visited Maine the first week of August. It's a crime against nature not to enjoy that culinary delight!

That, and inhaling the piney-scented air and kayaking on the Presumpscot.

Wicked good indeed.