We’re driving north on Route 1 in Cape Neddick, the downpour so strong that the cars passing us are furry with rain. In the mist I catch a glimpse of a tiny white shack, now boarded up, that hugs—actually embraces—the side of the road.

Once a familiar personal landmark, the shack is now ghosting me; I have to squint to see the beautiful ruin. Then there it is: the former location of the world headquarters of El’s Fried Clams, a coastal legend dating to the last mid-century.

Read the full story in the digital magazine above.