I hate mayonnaise. I will not eat tuna salad, potato salad, or egg salad. But I make a special exception for a thin layer of mayo spread on a BLT, or a bit with Belgian fries, and I have a particular weakness for lobster rolls. Each summer growing up, my parents and I would drive down the coast of Maine and stop on the side of the road for a lobster roll: sweet chunks of lobster meat moistened with Hellman’s, mixed with finely chopped celery, sitting in a top-loading bun. We’d sit by the ocean in the sun, smelling the salty breeze and relishing our rolls.
In a fit of nostalgic craving—and having heard there were two West Village establishments claiming to serve the best lobster rolls in the city—I arrived at Mary’s Fish Camp late on a Wednesday night. Sadly, the last roll had just been sold, and the waitress quickly steered me toward the cod sandwich, a battered and fried filet with red onion, lettuce, tomato, and a smear of tartar sauce on a ciabatta roll. With the first bite, I forgot the lobster roll entirely—the fish was meltingly soft, almost creamy, and delicious within its crisp exterior. I did not feel disappointed in the least.
On the next attempt, I phoned ahead to secure a roll. Mary’s was sold out again, but Pearl Oyster Bar was still serving. The lobster roll arrived, hunks of sweet tail meat smothered in mayonnaise with bits of celery and chives, piled so high on its classic buttered and grilled bun that it wouldn’t fit in my mouth. This wasn’t the lobster roll of my childhood—it was bigger, taller, richer, with more choice pieces of lobster. It had all the traditional elements, but was amped up to become the ultimate roll. It came accompanied by a tangle of fries so skinny they seemed not much more than garnish, and was truly amazing.
When next I visited Mary’s, the place was packed and the line was long. Worried that the rolls would sell out before I was seated, I took one to go and sat outside on a bench in the warm summer night. This lobster roll was a less intimidating replica of Pearl’s, with a neat heap of lobster tucked inside a buttered top-loader. Huge chunks of meat, wet with mayo, were succulent, but the fresh sweetness of lobster was masked somewhat by salt. This roll seemed to be just the right size to enjoy—sumptuous, and finished before one grows sick of it.
The two rival rolls are of the same lineage. Pearl Oyster Bar is the original, and has boasted the best lobster roll in town since it opened in 1997. Later, a Pearl’s employee left to open Mary’s Fish Camp, and began serving her own lobster roll. Today, Pearl’s feels like a bar steeped in tradition—the bartender doles out lobster rolls as efficiently as draught beers while trading foodie gossip with the regulars. The decor is wood and wainscoting, with a tin ceiling and rusted lanterns. Mary’s, by contrast, is charming and lively, painted bright blues and greens with a steel bar and an open, spotlessly clean kitchen. Mary’s waitresses are cheerful and dressed in kitschy shift dresses, pigtails and gingham. Pearl’s barkeep wears a wifebeater.
Manhattan’s lobster rolls don’t exactly replicate the lobster roll I remember, but may in fact surpass it. Pearl’s roll is a sumptuous and buttery production; Mary’s is also, but smaller.
When deciding between the two, bear in mind that Pearl’s offers a greater selection of wines by the glass, while Mary’s menu is strong across the board, and not solely in the lobster roll. Lobster, lobster rolls and whole fish are market price; Lobster rolls were priced at $22-$24 on the days sampled. If your heart is set on the lobster roll, I suggest calling ahead.
* a white sleeveless T-shirt
|
