First, there’s the drive in, a lovely trip along the peninsula south of busy Rockland (where the Maine Lobster Festival is held every August). Down here it’s a scene from a Wyeth canvas: forests of black spruce abutting saltwater farms; the scent of pine mingled with seaweed. Between a meadow and a rocky beach sits Waterman’s humble shack, with two dozen picnic tables scattered around a lawn and a tented deck. The day’s haul is steamed over salt water, which gives the meat a briny tang while keeping it firm. Kids and grandparents hunt for shells on the beach while a dog chases a Frisbee across the field. Was that a For Sale sign you saw on that house down the road?