Saying I was a picky child would be a colossal understatement. Fish passed my lips maybe once, but darn it if I didn’t protest the smell, taste and texture every chance I had.

The worst offense was a family trip to the East Coast. At every opportunity my dad and Sandy indulged in clam strips, fried scallops, lobster rolls, crab cakes, whole steamed lobster, clam chowder. They’d laugh as I [then 18] crinkled my nose and bemoaned the fact that I had to eat another grilled cheese, burger or something chicken-y because we only stopped at seafood restaurants.

In the next years I became more adventurous. I finally succumbed to fish, and when I told my parents how amazing and versatile seafood was [like I had discovered something they didn’t already know], they rolled their eyes.

Our week in Maine last month was the perfect occasion to remedy my previous East Coast injustices. I’m delighted to report that we had enough seafood to satisfy a small crowd.

a lobstah feast near Acadia

Because the large lobsters were gone for the night, the restaurant created a special including two smaller lobsters, corn on the cob, coleslaw, a roll and blueberry spice cake. He had to have it. I barely finished my one lobster and his corn by the time he was picking his second one clean and pulling off the bib.

Farther east in Lubec our sardine factory turned inn provided a shared kitchen to guests. For two Midwesterners [now pseudo-Southerners] inexperienced with clams, ours steamed in white wine, lemon and garlic, tossed with tarragon, chilli flakes and linguine were pretty magnificent.

My seafood redemption went on to include lobster bisque, a lobster roll, crab claw roll, broiled haddock and blackened sea bass. I think I did pretty well.