The whole board, butter and all.

A quarter-pound of cold-picked knuckle-and-claw lobster, just barely dressed in lemon mayo and chives, in a butter-griddled split-top bun. Sweet, cold, and honest.

Warm lobster meat tossed in nothing but drawn brown butter and a pinch of sea salt, tucked into a toasted split-top. No mayo, no apologies.

Sharp Cabot cheddar and warm buttered lobster pressed between thick sourdough until the edges go lacy and gold. Crunchy, gooey, glorious.

Sweet Maine crab, light lemon mayo, a whisper of celery and dill, in the same buttery split-top. The quieter cousin a lot of folks secretly prefer.

Real Maine clam-and-corn chowder — creamy but not gluey, smoky with bacon, loaded with chowder clams and yukon gold. Add a lobster claw on top.

Hand-breaded Gulf-of-Maine haddock, fried golden, with hand-cut fries, slaw, and house tartar. The boardwalk basket, parked wherever we are.

Whole-belly clams fried light and crisp, piled on hand-cut fries with lemon and tartar. A summer rite of passage.

Cavatappi in a sharp three-cheese sauce with chunks of buttered lobster and a toasted crumb. The cold-day favorite.

Skin-on, twice-fried, sea-salted. Get them loaded with chowder for a couple bucks more.

Crisp cabbage and carrot in a tangy buttermilk dressing — the cool counterpoint to all that butter.

House-fried kettle chips with a bracing salt-and-vinegar dusting.

A cold, crunchy house dill. Trust us, it belongs next to the roll.

Two soft cocoa cakes hugging wild-Maine-blueberry cream filling. The salty-sweet finish — grab two.

Same soft cakes, a maple-cream center, a pinch of flaky salt. Pure Maine sugar shack.

Tart-sweet lemon custard on a graham crust, cold from the cooler. Cuts the butter just right.