Sylvia Sterling – Boiled Lobster and Chardonnay (Talbott Sleepy Hollow, 2012)

Every year I looked forward to my invite to Cash and Lynne’s summer home in Maine. It was a standing invitation but things changed from year to year so I waited to be invited. They had young-adult children and I had to fit my visit in among graduations and birthdays. I had gone from Ms. Sterling to Aunt Sylvia and finally I was just plain Sylvia to their three kids. Their oldest boy was Richard, who had crept into the close-knit lobster boat community. He provided the fresh crustaceans for our annual lobster feed. At 14, he started hanging out on the docks and now at 22, he was like a son to the old salts. As their guest, I provided the wine to be paired with the lobster and this year I chose a Chardonnay (Talbott Sleepy Hollow 2012).

I passed the sign welcoming me to Boothbay Harbor Maine. It was one of my favorite places, which says a lot since I had been all over the world. The scenery was idyllic, the friends were fantastic and then of course there was the lobster. I started salivating as I drove to the Gorham’s home.

“Greetings! I’m relaxed already. You guys have a little piece of heaven here.” I steppedd out of my Jeep as my hosts jumped off the porch of their waterfront home.

“I hope you didn’t run into traffic leaving Boston,” Cash called out.

“No. Everyone is going to the Cape so it was smooth sailing. There’s something about the scent here and it’s not just the salt air; I’m relaxed already.”

Nathan, who was 17–years old, came to carry in my bags and the wine I brought. “I see wine there. What are we having?”

“I brought a nice Chardonnay from central California. It seems every year that I come, there’s one more Gorham of legal drinking age. I remember the days we had a kiddy table. Who’s coming for dinner tonight?”

“It will be Kara, Richard and their significant others; along with the three of us. I’ll pour you a cold beverage and we can socialize before we set you lose in the kitchen. We’re here to help but you always refuse,” Lynne Gorham said.

“It’s my treat for you guys. Is the lobster out back? I have some grocery sacks filled with goodies to make sides.”

“Richard set us up with seven 1 ½ lb. beauties, which are alive and kicking,” Cash brought me a strawberry lemonade.

The weather was perfect so I set up the picnic table in back, which was feet away from a rocky beach. Many people used plastic ware outdoors but Lynne and I decided years ago that if glass broke we’d just replace it. She had inexpensive dishes and glass-ware to be used outdoors only.

I made corn on the cob with sage butter and beet salad. I brought bread from my favorite bakery in Boston. We boiled the lobster in a contraption on the front lawn and cups of drawn butter were at each place setting. When everyone was seated, I stood at the head of the table behind Lynne. “I want to thank you all for having me as your guest again. This brood is growing year by year and I’m sure we’ll have little ones someday.”

Lynne piped up. “Not yet! Weddings first please and not too soon.” She was only half kidding.

“I chose this wine because I think it’s creaminess enhances the texture of the lobster. More importantly, it’s not too overpowering which would be a shame. Lobster tastes so good, it deserves top billing.” I poured a taste to Lynne who along with Cash might be the only ones with an opinion. Kara, Richard and their boy/girlfriends were too young to know much about wine.

“It’s a nice light gold color and the fact that you aerated it is noticeable; it enhanced the smoky nuance. It’s quiet a creamy mouthful.”

“Just let me know if you don’t want wine. There’s beer and sodas in the bucket.” No one spoke up so I continued to pour. “Start cracking guys because I want to see how you like it with the lobster.”

“I detect tannins but they’re perfectly balanced with the acidity. It’s fruity with notes of lemon and white peach. It really come alive paired with the lobster.”

Richard’s girlfriend Juliet twisted her face when she tasted the wine. “I should have said something but I was trying to act like an adult. I hate wine and this tastes really sour.” She put her glass down as she swallowed. I had to give her credit because at 22, I would have spit it out. “Is there any Mountain Dew?”

“Anyone else want a soda? Don’t worry guys you’ll be schooling us on wine in a couple of years.” I dipped my hand into the ice-cold water.

“I’ve actually toured Talbott vineyards and I’ve seen the French oak barrels in which this is aged. Maybe that’s why the oak comes through so strongly. It’s lush and creamy; a well-structured wine.” Tim, Kara’s boyfriend said.

My jaw dropped.

“Tim’s from Napa and he knows his wine,” Kara said as she looked at her boyfriend proudly.

“A pleasant surprise. Here’s to Oenophiles regardless of age,” I proposed a toast.

“And to Mountain Dew aficionados too!” Juliet smiled.

We watched the sun set and celebrated the season.