We discovered a few rules about seafood while in Maine. First, we didn’t know about the difference between clam bellies and clam strips. Turns out, to my shame, that we are more a clam strip kind of family, which means we are not open-minded to gobs of deep-fried, snot-textured seafood. It marked us as outsiders, non-New Englanders, people-who-don’t-know-better. Second, we learned that the boy should stick to lobster rolls after he turned green over his roe-laden crustacean. Much the same color as the tomalley in the lobster, it turns out.