To be fair, the actual route from Portland, ME to Acadia is only about two and half hours, but that’s via major highways, which bypass the best parts of the state–the gorgeous scenery and the delicious lobster rolls. We stopped at three lobster roll stands along the route, passing many antique stores (wink, wink for all my likeminded vintage shoppers out there) and some beautiful roads that traverse through the edges of the coastal state. Did I mention the antique stores? Seriously, there was one every mile. Okay, I’ll keep the intro short and get to the point: lobster rolls. I will caveat that the lobster joints we tried were the best rated per the internet that also happened to be relatively on the way to Acadia. I’m sure there are many others out there that could have been better, but they weren’t on the route OR honestly, couldn’t find it on the internet.

Harraseeket & Lobster Company

36 Main St., S. Freeport

• Incredibly fresh, impossibly fresh, fresher then The Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire (controversial, I know)

• Comes on a buttery toasted white bread folded in half, lettuce, and a pickle on the side. No mayo, butter, or sauce of any sort on the lobster.

• You can sit on the deck located on top of the joint, which provides lovely (albeit windy) views

Located right on the docks–you can actually see the catch come in, which can be attributed to its freshness and impossibly low price. A live lobster will set you back $6.99/lb which prompted Mom to ask in her suspicious voice, “is it even fresh? Lobster should never be that cheap” in which I reply, “yes, it is because their transportation cost is literally zero.”

Harraseeket happens to be in the town of Freeport, a.k.a. L.L. Bean headquarters. Drive eight minutes and you’ll enter the L.L. Bean campus which is also surrounded by the outlets of its competitors (think, Patagonia, North Face, etc.), so if you’re going to Acadia unprepared, definitely stop in town for some affordable outdoor supply.

Honestly, even if you’re not going to Acadia, Harrseeket is only 20 minutes from Portland and worth the drive if you have a car.

Sprague’s Lobster

22 Main Rd., Wiscasset

• You get a whole lobster and then some on each roll, couldn’t even see the bun, definitely need a fork

• Comes on a lightly buttered bun and some pickles

• Lobster has no seasoning, but was fresh

• There’s a parking lot, and a few other vendors in the space that makes for fun browsing as you’re waiting for your food. You can sit on the “pier” which really just looks out into a small river.

Sprague’s Lobster, I have a feeling, came out of the fact that Red Eats is across the way and happens to have the title of “Best Lobster Roll in the World,” so the lines are long and people can be impatient. Sprague’s doesn’t have half the line and the lobster quality is honestly similar. It’s a good business move.

Red Eats

41 Water St

• More lobster then meets the eye, it just keeps going, or at least it feels like it, fork required

• Comes on a small buttered bun that’s barely noticeable because there’s SO MUCH lobster (T’s theory is they go with the small bun to make it look like more lobster), and a pickle

• The lobster itself isn’t dressed up BUT you get a side of both butter which they pour from a tea kettle, and mayo. You also get buttered mint because lobster breath is real

• Service is excellent, the woman taking orders genuinely seems to love her job and takes pride in the work they produce, they come out and check on you to make sure you have everything you need

• You can sit in the deck behind the shack

You can’t journey through Maine and claim to have opinions on lobster roll until you have what is dubbed the “Best Lobster Roll in the World,” and you find that at Red Eats. They even have a whole book! And look at their accolades (conveniently printed on a banner hung to the side of the shack)! The lines are typically long and patience is required, but we went over Memorial Day Weekend which was a month before their busy season, so we didn’t have much trouble.

So, which was the best? It depends. Without the butter and mayo, Red Eats was honestly very similar to Sprague’s Lobster. The seasoning is what made it better, we enjoyed dipping the lobster in the hot butter with our forks, and when we could finally see the bun, we would dip that into the mayo and it was excellent. Dare I say, even the best? BUT, and this is a big but, if we’re talking about straight up lobster in its purest form, I have to say that Harraseeket takes the gold medal. The funny thing is that it got the lowest review on Yelp, of the places we tried, so maybe it’s because we went shortly after it opened, but the freshness of the lobster can’t be denied. Could it have done with some butter or mayo, sure, but if you’re a purest like Mamma Li who likes nothing but the sweet flavor to shine on its own, then Harrseeket is the place to go.

Honorable Mentions

On the route from Portland to Acadia, we only stopped at three joints, but we definitely ate more rolls throughout our entire trip. And these lobster shacks definitely deserve a shout out:

Bite Into Maine (1000 Shore Rd)

Located right at Cape Elizabeth, across from the famed lighthouse, this food truck is a must try. Enjoy the delicious rolls overlooking the beautiful water in the former military base turned public park.

C-Ray Lobster (882 ME-3)

Conveniently off of ME-3, stop by C-Ray when you’re in and around Acadia. The steamed clams are fresh and cleaned for you and the lobster roll is on a buttered brioche bun. Also notable, it comes with Cape Cod chips to crush up and add crunch to your sammie as well as a pickle, and butter for dipping on the side.

Classic Mamma Li, starting with disappointment whenever I have exciting news. Over Columbus Day (or Indigenous People's Day) weekend I journeyed to the land of bears and maple syrup—more commonly known as Banff, Canada, to explore the mountains, hunt for larches (it's a tree so PETA don't come after me) and enjoy some fresh air. But Mom bemoaned the date I chose, it's so close to Chung Yeung, "that's when you should have gone."

Chung Yeung Festival or Double Ninth Festival came from a legend that dates back to the Eastern Han Dynasty (25-220 AD). A devil inhabited the Nu River, causing an incurable disease to manifest in the locals that depended on the water source. One such victim was the parent of a young man named Hengjing, who upon the devastation, decided to go on a long and difficult journey to find the immortal master to teach him the swordsmanship required to expel the devil from the water. 

After some time, when the immortal master felt him ready, he told Hengjing that on the ninth day of the ninth lunar month the devil would make an appearance and he must return to the village to vanquish the monster and thusly the disease.

Armed with a bag of dogwood and chrysanthemum wine, Hengjing returned home ready to fight, with the aid of his neighbors. They held up the dogwood and wine so that when the devil made his appearance at noon, his attention immediately turned to the wonderful scent and while distracted, Hengjing used his sword and techniques learned from the immortal master to slay the devil and restore the town. And so every year, on the ninth date of the ninth month, it's customary to climb mountains and drink chrysanthemum wine as a way to ward off the devil and bring good luck into your life. 

Understandably, Mamma Li grew ever more disappointed—if I'm going to go through the danger of climbing mountains, it should at least be with the purpose of bringing good luck into my life. But I still had the most amazing time exploring the natural wonders of Canada—climbing high, making new friends, eating really well, and centering myself before starting a new job—so even if the date wasn't quite right, I think Hengjing was still working his magic and I feel pretty damn lucky. 

If you get a chance, go and climb a mountain today—physical or mental (because getting over a mental mountain is a real thing), and maybe you'll get lucky ;)

Mom looks in disdain at my set up for a photo project that brought me back to Virginia. I wanted to capture the tradition and beauty of honoring your ancestors, which despite its Confucius beginnings, my very Catholic mother (she cried upon seeing the Pope in Rome) still practices.

We have a little alter in my parent's bedroom consisting of photos of my grandparents with a fruit bowl and the option of incense, always present. When the incense is lit, you place your hands together and bow three times to show respect. During holidays or special occasions, favorite dishes of the deceased is included for them to enjoy in the spirit world, similar to Dia de Los Muertos in Mexican culture. Food forms the centerpiece to ancestor worship, it's not something that connects just the living but spans to the spirit world as well. For the Chinese, food isn't a means to survival (ugh Soylent), but a generous and sociable pleasure. At a minimum a fruit bowl is always lavishly filled. Often as a kid, when our fruit bowl downstairs looked a bit...minimal, I would go upstairs and take some from Poh Poh (maternal grandmother in Cantonese). I don't think she minded. 

The tradition goes back centuries. The Chinese have always believed that the deceased is still among us, concerned with the affairs of the world and possesses sway in the fortune of their living relatives. Regardless, I think it's still a good idea to show respect to those before you because they are the root to your flowering tree. 

I've recently taken on the belief of honoring and respecting your ancestors and your roots. During my solo journey through Patagonia, I could feel the spirit of Poh Poh guide me. I know it sounds crazy, but I felt the connection. It was very Mulan—I could see spirit Poh Poh groaning and telling my grandfather that I get this stubbornness from him.

I never understood its importance growing up, but as a mostly-adult, I never want to forget where I came from and the traditions that encompass that. And so I went on a road trip to Virginia to see my parents, honor my grandparents, and eat some really, really good food. 

...Mom exclaimed, upon telling her that Catherine lives in Sunset—she was very worried Catherine decided to take up the unsavory 'hood of the Tenderloin. Turns out, Sunset was Mom's first stop in America after a long flight of drinking nothing but orange juice, because that was the only English word she knew. A distant relative lived out there and helped Mom get settled in before meeting her boo, a.k.a Dad, for the first time.  

And now my bestie lives out in Sunset, her chosen neighborhood in her new town of San Francisco. I went to California to visit her, my first time since she'd moved over a year and a half ago. I flew out for her birthday weekend and we spent it hiking around Monterey Bay at Point Lobos and Pinnacle National Park. In every way, it was the perfect trip—I spent time with my bestie, whom I rarely see, on her birthday; I was in nature; and I ate incredibly well.

The short trip didn't allow much time to visit SF-based family, though most trips out west usually include a visit with aunts, uncles, and cousins. Mom's whole family lives around the Bay area, and it was where I was raised for the first two years of my life. I've never had a strong pull to move out west, but I've always had strong ties to California.

Despite not visiting Mom's family, I felt closer to her by staying in Sunset—the same part of town Mom stayed when she was only a few years older than I am now, but in different circumstances. She came to start a new life, to raise a family out from under the shadow of communism. And I walked those same streets some 30 years later as the classically lost-in-life millennial who enjoys the privilege of growing up in a wealthy first world country. But I try not to forget where I come from, a family of hard-working immigrants.

Walking the same sidewalks Mom did as an eager young Chinese girl—excited for her new life—put my troubles in perspective. I am still incredibly lucky. I may not have a trust fund, but I have the privilege to be lost and confused because I have too many options, and that's thanks to a young woman brave enough to leave everything she knew for the possibility of something better, not actually knowing what was on the other side. Immigrants bear a bravery that the average person will never have to experience, and they deserve the utmost respect and most importantly, the warmest of welcomes.   

Mom recounts to Auntie and Uncle Six, as we toured the Colosseum—you know, the place where gladiator fights took place for a casual 400-some years, among other popular "sports," back when ancient Rome was just called Rome.

Cue eye roll as I explained to Mom that she misheard the English guide and relayed the wrong information to Auntie and Uncle Six, who don't speak a lick of English. An international Phan family vacation always results in interesting stories because at any given time there are three languages going at once. During this particular trip, it went from Italian to English to Chinese. Peel back each layer and you'll find that a little bit of information gets lost each time, which is how we got to the Colosseum being the home of slaves. 

But despite all the communication troubles and getting a few facts wrong here and there, everyone had a spectacular time eating and seeing the best Italy had to offer. This was the first European trip for Auntie and Uncle Six, and though the reason for going was to celebrate Mom's big 6-0, it became more of a celebration of family. Yes, we fought and argued because it's a FAMILY VACATION, that happens, it's okay. But when you realize that my family came from rural China where an 11'' x 15'' fridge was considered luxurious, you'll understand that this is their dream come true. Thanksgiving dinner was spent at Piazza Duomo, a three-Michelin-star restaurant—an experience they never would have dreamed possible growing up. And I'm prayer hands thankful that I got to gift them the experience. They deserve it. 

Disclaimer: there are SOOOO many other candies that I didn't touch on in this list. That's why this isn't a definitive list by any stretch. But it's a good start, especially for those of you who haven't had experience with Chinese sweets!

White Rabbit Creamy Candy

It starts out brittle but becomes chewy, with a taste that's simultaneously sweet and creamy. The best part of the candy is the inner "wrapper"—sort of a Russian nesting doll situation—which looks like paper but is actually made of rice, so you can eat it! It's not so much about the flavor as the novel sensation of eating paper, and I thought that was really cool at age eight. 

Marukawa Gum

Four little gum balls come in each small box and the flavor is so wonderful and intense. I always opted for the variety pack, which included strawberry, melon, grape, and orange—mostly because I loved mixing and matching to create my own flavors. Marukawa loses flavor after about 30 seconds of chewing, so it's the definition of short and sweet. 

Jelly Candy

The Jolly Rancher of Chinese candies, at least in flavor—not so much in texture. Jelly candy has the consistency of firm tofu, but because of that, it always made it really fun to eat. 

Tamarind Candy

"What's that?" I asked an 11-year-old Sis, pointing to a strange looking fruit while we were wandering around the Chinese grocery store. "Poop," she replied with confidence. And for the next 10 years I genuinely thought the beloved tamarind fruit was poop and never went near it. Ironically, around the same time as the grocery store incident, I fell in love with tamarind candy, which mimics the sweet and tart taste of tamarind. I never made the connection between the fruit and candy despite the fact that the wrapper pretty much had a picture of tamarind on it. I wasn't the brightest kid.

Flower Candy

They don't taste floral at all, but I loved these popular hard candies. They remind me of Werther's Originals in that they're always found at the bottom of a purse or carried around by a beloved grandparent. The flavor is like sweetened condensed milk with hints of an ambiguous fruit. Yum.

Haw Flakes

About the size of a nickel and wafer thin, I used to pretend with my cousins that haw flakes were medicine that we'd prescribed each other while playing doctor. They're made from the fruit of the Chinese hawthorn, a small tree that grows in the mountainous regions of China. It has a sweet, almost berry-like taste. These were the go-to snack of the Phan household and also act as a great digestive.

Hard Plum Candy

Hard plum candy sounds like a bad porn title, but IT'S AMAZING. At its core is a dried plum (tart enough to give Warheads a run for their money) which is encased in hardened honey that you suck until it melts away. The effect is similar to a reverse Sour Patch Kid. Whenever we went to the Chinese grocery store, I would always sneak a pack of hard plum candy into the cart. Mom was always okay with it, because for candy it's actually pretty healthy. It's also Sis' favorite. We could never get enough of these suckers, pun intended. 

No other country can claim the title of melting pot—that is what makes America great (not narcissistic moguls playing politics). Only in America do you see a Chilean, a Chinese, and a Caucasian laughing together over drinks in the midnight glow—not from the stars above but the buildings across, which in their varying shapes, sizes, and colors represent the diversity within their concrete walls.

Yes, this really only happens in the larger (mostly port) cities, where there's a greater influx of immigrants, but it's still there. It still exists. I've traveled a fair amount, and you know what? The world's relatively homogeneous. It doesn't make the cities or villages visited any less friendly, but it'd be a whole hell of a lot less interesting place to live.

America's not perfect, we ALL know that. But our greatest strength (despite what some in more conservative towns may believe) lies in our diverse nature. Studies show over and over and over again that the best-run companies employ diverse staff because that's how we derive creative solutions to unique problems.

So yes—among many other problems, sexism, homophobia, poverty, and racism still exist, but you can also get the best damn pulled noodles from an old Chinese man who's been doing it his whole life on the same day you get the messiest cemita packed with all the exploding flavors of Oaxaca from immigrants who came here for a better life—and nowhere else in the world can you do that. Happy Birthday America, God love ya and the Red, White, and Blue. Let the fireworks commence!      

I tell Sis, as she sits down and wipes the plate with her napkin. Grandma took her to dim sum pretty much every week growing up and Grandma was a staunchly proper lady who taught Sis how to dim sum as such.

Grandma played favorites and I didn't fall in that circle (at least I wasn't on her black list, my cousins can attest to that joy), but I did learn a thing or two from watching Sis, a.k.a. Grandma's Golden grandchild.

Different parlors have different guidelines so it's best to look it up beforehand, i.e. if you're allowed to get up and walk around to look for a particular cart, versus waiting for it to cruise near you. Jing Fong in New York permits guests to walk about as they please, and because I didn't know, I commented to Sis how people there were so aggressive, like animals. I'm not judgmental at all.

Generally speaking there are a few basic guidelines that really apply across the board.

1. Choose your tea. The four basic types are bo-lay, gook-fa, wu-long, and lung-jeng. Tea really froms the basis of dim sum, which has its origins in tea parlors on the silk road. The food is actually secondary to the tea—which is why dim sum is actually called yum cha in Cantonese, which literally means "to drink tea." Your choice in tea will dictate the rest of your meal as it helps with digestion and cleanses the platelet. Grandma always requested bo-lay and gook-fa. Yes, you can request more than one type. 

2. Wipe your dish with your napkin. It just makes good hygienic sense. 

3. The person closest to the tea pours it for the rest of the table, serving him/herself last.

4. Remember dim sum is about sampling, it's really the original tapas, so pretty much everything is split as in, if there are three meatballs, that's enough for six people. This will allow everyone to sample more, and if you guys really love the dish, the cart will circle back! There's really no wrong thing to order, but Phan favorites include fung zao, ngao yuk kau, lo baak goa, cheong fan, wu gok, har gau, and siu mai—just to name a few.

5. If you notice your tea running out, refill yours and anyone else's that's looking a little low. 

6. When the tea for the table runs run, dependent on the pot, either flip the cap up if it's attached to the pot or turn the cap upside down—this will alert the waiter for a refill.

7. If you don't see your favorite circulating, ask your waiter—often times they will bring it to the table if it's not "on grounds"—typically taro cakes and lo baak goa are special request because they are time consuming and difficult to make. Do the right thing, always get the lo baak gao or taro cakes.

8. Tip! It may not be traditional wait service, but these push cart ladies rely on tips the same way any other waiter relies on tip. 

Some dim sum places won't have push carts and instead will provide a checklist menu for you to choose from—it's less fun than the traditional form, especially for those who recognize dishes by their appearance rather than name (one, Vilina Phan), but that doesn't mean the food is any less good. 

Dim sum really should be eaten for brunch. So grab your best buddies and maybe instead of getting avocado toast and poaches eggs this week, try some rice crepes, chicken feet, taro cakes, and egg tarts.

"I'm making ma thai goa for you," Mom says, as I happened to be home for the occasion, which was really just a happy coincidence. Read any government issued document I have and it says "D.O.B. February 26." But that's how it is when you're from a culture that embraces both the Gregorian calendar (a.k.a the civil calendar, a.k.a. the one you know and love) and the lunar calendar.

Where the Gregorian calendar remains consistent, the lunar calendar changes year to year because it revolves around the moon cycle. This is why Chinese New Year's, Dongzhi, and every other celebration, including birthdays, fall on different dates each year. Usually I get a call from Mom informing me of mine because I never bothered to figure it out. But I guess as an almost, kind-of adult, it's high time I learn. 

The Lunar calendar month begins on the day of the new moon and ends the day before the following new moon, which means on average one month will last 29.53 days. This means that in one year there are 12.36 months, so depending on the year there could be 12 or 13 months in a lunar year, in order to make up the extra percentage. Thus, following the lunar cycle, some months will have 29 days while others will have 30 days. But this also means that a 12-month lunar year will be 11 days shorter than a Gregorian year and a 13-month lunar year will be nine days longer. A 13-month lunar year typically occurs in similar fashion to a leap year, in that it's every few years depending on how far the moon has progressed since the start of the Chinese New Year. And you wonder why Asians are stereotypically good at math and science: it's because we've been calculating our calendar every year since the start of time, NBD.

Okay, so how do you figure out your Chinese birthday? First, it's good to keep in mind that Chinese New Year's Day will always be later than the Gregorian New Year's Day of January 1. So, although I was born in February, my Chinese birthday actually falls on Lunar January. Finding out the specific date is much more difficult because it's based on when the Chinese New Year began during the year you were born, so really your parents had to be keeping track—which, if your parents are Asian, they probably were.

If you're genuinely curious about your Chinese birthday, well, it's called the internet. There are plenty of sites, albeit a bit clunky and reminiscent of '90s internet (but hey, the '90s are cool now!), that will provide you with your Chinese birthday and your age, because—guess what—you're actually a year older with the lunar calendar since the Chinese consider you to be one year old the moment you're born. 

Twenty-something years ago, my Gregorian birth date of February 26 fell on the lunar day of "January 12," and this year, "January 12" falls on February 19, prompting well wishes from Mom. And of course the ma thai goa, which is a water chestnut cake, but it's more gelatin in texture than what Americans traditionally think of as cake. Lightly sweet but packed with flavor and crunch from the fresh chestnuts, it's one of my favorite desserts.   

I looked longingly at a pair of boots—they were on sale, too! But I couldn't get them, because the moment fell within the 16-day time frame of Chinese New Year's, and shoes make the list of New Year's taboos.

We've arrived at Act II of this multi-series post about Chinese New Year, and we're going to mix things up. No recipes today—just a short and sweet listicle to help you properly celebrate the Year of the Monkey. 

PREPARE (JAN. 31–FEB. 6)

• Clean your home—it's referred to as "sweeping of the dust"—with the beliefs of bidding farewell to the old and creating a welcoming space for the new Chi. 
   
• Decorate your home with red couplets, known as spring couplets. Commonly placed on either side of a door frame (Mamma Li likes placing them on each side of our fireplace), they are believed to ward away evil as the characters bid best wishes to the home. Spring couplets are paired phrases of seven Chinese characters written in black ink on red paper. Other decor includes red lanterns, red paper cut-outs, or New Year's painting.
   
• Place tangerines or clementines in each room of your home, symbolizing abundance and good fortune. 
   
• Swipe your credit card—it's time to go shopping for new clothes, preferably in red, and get your hair cut! You should also be buying all your New Year's food and snacks. 

CHINESE NEW YEAR'S EVE (FEB. 7)

• Dine with family and friends. This is the meal—think Thanksgiving and Christmas combined—where every dish has a symbolic meaning meant to bring good luck and fortune to the eater. 
  
  
• Give, or in my case receive ;), lucky money! This custom varies regionally, but in my family married couples provide singles with singles, regardless of age. Money is placed in red envelopes because it's believed to turn the money lucky, hence the name. This tradition extends beyond Chinese New Year's. From birthdays to graduations, any time money is given, it must be in the red envelope. 

CHINESE NEW YEAR'S DAY (FEB. 8)

• Set off fireworks and firecrackers at midnight, and just remember, the Chinese DID invent fireworks, so you can imagine how seriously we take this tradition.
   
• Eat something sweet at midnight so you'll have nothing but good news for the year.
  
  
• Offer sacrifices to ancestors—New Year's Day is the Chinese equivalent of Día de los Muertos. Usually there's an altar or table with photos where you burn incense and lay out sweets, clementines, and other fortune-filled food. You take several bows to pay your respects and show piety. Mom does this every year, paying respects to her parents.
  
  
• Wear your new clothes and say gong hei fa choi to everyone, which means respectful joy and best wishes. 

CHINESE NEW YEAR'S TABOOS

• Don't wash your hair or clothes until day three, else you'll be washing away good luck for the New Year.
  
  
• Don't buy shoes or brooms for the duration of the celebration (16 days). Phonetically speaking, these words are similar to others with negative meanings, and will bring bad fortune to your home.

Nowadays the customs, particularly the taboos, are followed more for the sake of tradition then any real superstitious beliefs. Really, the root of the festivities centers around family, friends, and a good time—not so different from many other holidays.