It seems like there’s a certain magic that can only be achieved when you improvise. It’s not that we didn’t know what we were doing, let’s just say there was a lot of room for interpretation in our plan. In order to make it safely across Casco Bay and reach the shore of a small uninhabited island whose name shall remain anonymous, our three tandem sea kayaks had to be under a certain weight. This meant we had to be selective about creature comforts, which is obviously pretty standard for primitive camping, but we were determined to dine in extravagance. 

It was time to initiate our vague outline of a plan, so that morning we hit Allen’s Seafood on our way in. Allen’s is a family-run seaside wharf with concrete holding tanks full of freshly-caught live lobsters, clams, crabs, and more. Stopping on our way in and grabbing six fresh soft shell lobsters and 2 pounds of clams at well below market price turned out to be fruitful. 

We then drove further down the peninsula and parked at the marina, started packing our gear into the hatches of each boat, unsure if we’d be successful in both fitting all of our gear, as well as staying afloat, until we wearily climbed inside and launched offshore. 

Quite possibly the only aspect of the trip that was given enough forethought were the six vacuum-sealed ribeye steaks I had from Barb’s Butchery that were burning a five-pound hole in my backpack, but those would have to wait until the second night due to the nature of fresh seafood. 

Barb’s is my all-time favorite butchery; It is a female-run,“nose to tail” butcher shop (nose-to-tail eating philosophy involves the utilization of every possible part of the animal) located in my part of the Hudson Valley. You’ll be able to find anything from North African lamb merguez sausage, to merlot beef jerky, and just about everything in between. All offerings are made in-house, they are all grass-finished, as well as local.

We had the island to ourselves, and once camp was made, dinner was next. We toyed with the idea of an old-fashioned lobster boil, but ran into logistical issues including pot sizes, hunger levels, and waning daylight. Being a Portland native, our friend Colin suggested the good old-fashioned clam bake method on the beach. The rest of us were not very familiar with the process, but Colin had recalled all the steps necessary to pull it off. We dug a hole on the beach, lit a fire, stoked it, let it burn down, placed rocks and seaweed on that, then lobsters and clams, more seaweed, and more rocks. After (how long?) it was time to unveil the lobsters, and we did. We finished them on the roaring beacon of a campfire, and ate them with our hands, sitting on the rocky shore. 

If you’re from coastal Maine, these things are somewhat familiar, just like Allen’s Coffee Brandy, our fireside companion that night. Allen’s (no relation to Allen’s Seafood) deserves an honorable mention because everyone from Maine knows and loves it, akin to Jepsen’s Malört in Chicago. It has a cult following, and you can find it in all Maine liquor stores, where it has remained the best-selling liquor product for over twenty years. 

After the first night on the island, we wanted to explore further out into the bay. We rowed our boats onto other small islands and shores, quickly discovering that if we waited a few hours for low tide and turned over a decent amount of rocks, we could find enough shellfish to accompany the highly-anticipated ribeyes we would be making for dinner. The bounty we found was unplanned and unprecedented. Midday tidal pools and seaweed-covered rocks were ripe with mussels and strange-looking oysters that, upon further research later on, turned out to be Belon oysters native to western France, specifically the Belon River west of Nantes. Introduced to the Casco Bay region decades ago, these oysters have colonized some coastal areas, and are largely disregarded by local restaurants due to their distinctly different taste compared to that of the more familiar Pacific and Atlantic species.

Continuing with our theme of improvisation, we wrongly assumed the cooking grate for the fire pit would still be on the island from our first visit three years prior. It wasn’t. Instead, we picked out a nice-looking slab of stone from the beach and placed it over the fire to heat up for a few hours. We sat around the pit and cracked open a few oysters and cooked the mussels as we waited.  After about an hour, we were all holding our breath, watching as the steaks came out of their packaging and floated over the stone. Is it hot enough? People cook on these things, Right? Is our long-awaited main course turning into a sad debacle? It was too late to turn back, anyhow. The first steak hit the stone and loudly sizzled. Success. We cheered as we laid out the rest of the meat and retrieved the potatoes and brussel sprouts from the ashes. 

We ate the steaks with our hands, sitting on the beach like cavemen. It seemed like the most appropriate way to celebrate the fruits of our labor and curiosity, the beauty of our surroundings, and our hunger. We channeled our primitive sides once again, feeling truly alive.

Allen’s Seafood  •  119 Lookout Point Rd, Harpswell, ME 04079

Barb’s Butchery  •  69 Spring St, Beacon, NY 12508

Restaurant Depot  •  1281 NY-300, Newburgh, NY 12550

Alex Finkelstein is a Managing Editor of Digest Mag