Travel to Canada’s Nova Scotia for fresh lobster
Time your visit well to this Canadian province and you’ll find the fresh crustaceans served for breakfast, lunch, dinner – and dessert.
Lobsters do strange things to people. Salvador Dali turned one into a telephone receiver, and then, at the 1939 New York World’s Fair, used them to accessorise nude models. At Britain’s Glastonbury Festival every summer, cult performer Lekiddo Lord of the Lobsters leads singalongs of his fishy-themed calypso bangers, with mimicked claw fingers in the air and a “pinchy pinchy kiss kiss” catchphrase.
Atlantic Canada is the lobster capital of the world, and the vibe is similarly silly on Nova Scotia’s South Shore. Did you know locals put lobster in their ice cream? And in their beer?
A go-slow road trip along its gnawed Atlantic front takes you to rippling coves, breath-sucking waters and Breton-striped lighthouses, and, if you like to be beside the seaside, few coastal routes are so finger-licking good. I am prepared for the tonnage of lobster but less so for how dreamy the shoreline and shell-haloed islands will be.
The timing couldn’t be better. In May, the commercial lobster-fishing season is finishing along the eastern seaboard and locals are coming out of their winter hibernation. Restaurants are unfurling their pier-chic bunting, chefs are reaching for steamers and stock pots as recreational lobster trapping takes over. A fantasia of fishing villages, with ship-style cafes and schooners that slip anchor for sunset cruises, are eagerly anticipating the scuttle of summer and round-the-clock crack of lobster claw as tourists arrive.
At Mahone Bay, I sit on the outdoor deck at Saltbox Brewing Company and chug a Crustacean Elation beer, for which fire-roasted lobster shells are part of the production process. Empty lobster traps decorate the entrances to houses like postboxes. Sailboats bob beside a jetty guarded by a papier-mache mermaid with balloon-shaped breasts.
Further on, past a trio of Anglican churches topped with upside-down ice-cream cone steeples, is Lobster Made Easy, where rolls piled high with squidgy claw meat are served under a marbled sky as blue as the sea. I watch as herring gulls spin out into a frenzy across the yawning bay. Unfortunately, the lobster gelato is sold out, but there are consolatory stalk-eyed lobster puppets, cartoon T-shirts, rope wall art, woolly hats and lobster onesies on offer. The owner, Mark Lowe, has also mastered the art of vac-packed microwaveable lobster (“six minutes, cut the plastic, be careful, it’s damn hot”).
Another 150km southwest, Barrington is a port town that once harboured rum runners. Nowadays, it proudly wears its English, Scottish and Irish heritage like a sleeve tattoo, and the echoes continue during the drive south through Chester, West Dublin, Liverpool and Clyde River. As if to offer further proof of the coast’s unrivalled seafood claim, other places on the map – Squid Cove, Eel Bay, Clam Point – sound as if they’re in an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants. The journey between their tumbling shores, sugary beaches and savoury lobster doughnuts is magical.
To get the full Barrington experience, I start at Seal Island Lighthouse Museum, a five-storey replica of Canada’s oldest wooden lighthouse, which remains on a dangerous nib of land off the southwest coast. Barrington lands an average 22,000 tonnes of lobster each season and the evidence is everywhere. There are canneries and pounds (ask around for an informal guided tour), plus plenty of lobster favourites to try. Captain Kat’s Lobster Shack has poutine, mac and cheese, and fondue; the Salt Banker in Clark’s Harbour on Cape Sable Island is a beacon for creamed lobster smeared on toast – the way the locals like it. The thrill is knowing the crustaceans were landed from fertile and sustainable fishing grounds that morning. “If you’ve never been pinched by a lobster you’ve never lived,” muses Samantha Brannen, manager of Barrington Museum Complex, as she teaches me how to rubber band a lobster with a spring-loaded banding tool. “A large one can snap your finger like it’s a pencil.”
My favourite meal is a bar-raising lobster basking in aioli on a butter-soft Viennese roll served at Osprey’s Nest, a roadside pub back along the coast in Petite Riviere. The lobster roll is ubiquitous in Nova Scotia but this one is unbeatable (the kitchen has won the province’s Lobster Roll-Off for the past two years).
Food aside, this swathe of Nova Scotia is a fun, breezy part of Canada to drive around, as light and frothy as the Atlantic that washes the province’s fingers and toes. I stay at the Quarterdeck Resort, a cluster of weather-boarded villas and chalets near Liverpool. It overlooks Summerville Beach while inland Kejimkujik National Park brings the province’s Indigenous First Nations Mi’kmaq culture to life, with a seashore annexe overlooking a bay of spangled islands. Beachcombing, coastal walks and wind-whipped picnics are provincial sports here. There is also so much light in the darkness. From the lighthouses, naturally, and fishing trawlers with firefly lanterns, but also on clear nights when the sky shimmers like silvery mackerel.
The next day I arrive in Lunenburg, a time-machine town of bell-cast mansions, hull-ribbed churches and twin-masted sailing boats that coughs up UNESCO-recognised history and lobster (what else?). Some call it one of North America’s prettiest towns; its creaky seafaring heritage is like a Popeye cartoon. Every house is a painted lady in pink, lemon or violet, and the street lights are decoratively dressed with enormous barb-chinned cod, swordfish or flounder. Even the Rum Runner Inn where I stay, with its glorious balcony views of billowing sails and schooners and seasick-yellow facade, has the whiff of Captain Haddock about it.
Despite the town’s tourist-friendly facelift, up to 20 working lobster vessels remain in the harbour, including Nellie Row, the first in the country with an all-female crew. “Fishing is in our DNA,” says June Davidson, a guide with Lunenburg Walking Tours, while we stroll the wharf. “It’s hard to believe, but poor families used to send their children to school with lobster sandwiches.” Opposite, a stark reminder of the real price of seafood is the town’s Fishermen’s Memorial, which records the loss of more than 80 vessels and 650 fishermen. But the community can’t dwell on this as lobster boats head out into the swell.
At night, when everyone gathers at the South Shore Fish Shack, a top-notch fish and chip shop with a lobster tank, I duck into Grand Banker, where I tackle a Lunenburger, an awkward cheeseburger dripping in tarragon-doused lobster knuckle and claw meat and harpooned with a bacon-wrapped scallop. In TikTok terms, it would trump Ahab’s three-day fight with Moby-Dick.
Next morning, I’m back on the road to Halifax, making a detour via Peggy’s Cove Lighthouse, a transfixing candy-stripe tower south of the provincial capital. It’s easy to see why it’s become one of the most photographed spots in North America. There is the starburst light flaring off the lantern, the landscape of rocks reminiscent of seal bellies, the soundtrack of slapping sea. And naturally, if you want more lobster, two food shacks and a classic coach-tour restaurant serve steamed lobster dinners, lobster eggs benedict and cheesy lobster nachos (sacrilege, in my eyes).
All too soon, I spend my final night at the Muir Hotel overlooking Halifax’s boardwalk harbour. Everyone is lapping up shucked oysters and sea fruit. And what could be better than a basket of cracked lobster and chips with a dollop of mayo, served alongside more pubs per drinker than anywhere in Canada?
IN THE KNOW
The Quarterdeck Resort is at Summerville Centre, Nova Scotia; from about $216 a night.
The Rum Runner Inn is on the waterfront in Lunenburg; from about $230 a night.
The Muir Hotel in Halifax is a Marriott Autograph Collection property; from about $680 a night.
Mike MacEacheran was a guest of Nova Scotia and Destination Canada.
THE TIMES
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