DiMillo's Floating Restaurant

DiMillo's is a national treasure of sorts. A floating restaurant in Maine may sound like an Onion headline, but it's the real-deal in our fair little city. Whether you love or hate the atmosphere, there's no arguing against the charm of watching little old ladies sip sombreros and eat lobster rolls with forks and knives. 

DiMillo's has undergone some changes over the years, and to a variety of effects. There was the period of standard, "seafood and steaks" fare they pushed out during the 1990s, followed by the restaurant's perhaps not so successful attempt to catch up with the fine-dining boom that occurred a decade or so later. Now, the menu sits somewhere in-between. If you want a plate of fried clams, it's there. So too, however, is the "Fiery Calamari Burger," which brings us to DiMillo's take on the quintessential fried haddock sandwich —  the "Atlantic Po Boy."

I'm not going to spell-out what constitutes an "Atlantic Po Boy" at DiMillo's; you'll find that information contained in the above photo. What I will address is the fact that this thing is not great with first impressions. At face value, the sandwich seems like it'd be a jumbled, culturally-confused mess. Last I checked, the preferred vessel for a po boy was a baguette-like french bread, not a "butter grilled Challah roll." Somehow, Japan gets in on the action in the form of "wasabi coleslaw" and "ginger mayo." This is not the DiMillo's of yesteryear and certainly not what I expected walking in.

Regardless of this sandwich's scattered geographical origins, it turned out to be a pretty decent effort. The portion of haddock was mammoth in size and couldn't have been fried more accurately. Unlike the buttered bun at Portland Lobster Company, this one didn't succumb into a state of extreme greasiness or render the sandwich inedible; it actually added a great deal of flavor to the party. Halfway through the meal, though, I had to reference the menu to remember what the hell was going on and what country I was in. While nothing offensive was at play, flavors such as "wasabi" and "ginger" were not discernible, muted to the point where this really just tasted like a typical, albeit enjoyable fried haddock sandwich. I will say, though, that the "quick-pickled onions" added a nice, welcomed acidity. 

As expected, the accompanying fries, pickle and ramekin of ketchup were nothing special and easy to overlook.

There's no getting around the heavy level of kitsch associated with DiMillo's, but you don't show up rolling your eyes. Instead, you walk through the power-operated doors into the ship's gaudy lobby and finally its dimly-lit bar, put on a small buzz (scotch seems appropriate) and revel in the sheer joy shared by those old ladies picking through their lobster rolls. Then, you bite into a haddock sandwich and smile — even if you're just a little bit confused as to why.

The Verdict — A decent, if not culturally-confused effort. (★★★½)