My very first time eating lobster was when I was 14 and traveling up the east coast from Georgia with my family to go pickup my brother who had just finished hiking the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine (that’s 2,175 miles) back in 1986. Once we had left the northeast urban areas of New York and Boston, the road became surrounded with fur trees and less buildings. I can remember breaking out onto the coast and seeing the craggy cliffs and lobster traps floating in the turbulent surf down below thus beginning my love affair with lobster (the other really good white meat).