A bitter recipe for lobster tales

Lobster shacks don't dot the streets in Manhattan as they do in coastal Maine, and it's unlikely those in the Pine Tree State would stir up the tempest gathering in downtown's chowder cups.

Indeed, there aren't many places to get a Maine-style, mayonnaise-slathered lobster roll here, but most agree the person who perfected it, if not introduced it, is Rebecca Charles, who opened Pearl Oyster Bar in the West Village about 10 years ago. Last month she sued her longtime sous-chef, Ed McFarland, who four months ago opened Ed's Lobster Bar, a near carbon copy of her restaurant a few blocks away in SoHo.

And while restaurant brouhahas boil as often as the soup du jour in this city of hyper-competitive gourmands, Ms. Charles' flexing of her – well, her legal mussels – has drawn international attention for claims of intellectual theft. Pearl's décor, menu, and business concept – all of it, she says, has shown up again 16 blocks southeast. In what some see as an unprecedented legal claim, her lawsuit asserts that Mr. McFarland owed Charles a loyalty that involved putting business-related responsibilities above personal gain.

It's a tale of resentment, betrayal, and high-stakes legal wrangling that has the food world, according to the popular foodie blog Eater, "absolutely transfixed" – and the restaurateurs' feelings as raw as a platter of shucked Malpeques. Some worry the suit could deter apprentice chefs from setting out on their own. Others see a need to protect restaurant concepts from corporate knock-offs, a growing trend in which big pockets copy local establishments and expand them into chains.

As a small 54-seat "bar," Pearl Oyster has the feel of a bustling gourmet diner with a coastal New England décor. Antique oil lamps, fishery signs, and gray wainscoting, Charles explains, evoke her own memories of growing up on Grooch's Beach in Kennebunkport, Maine. Patrons sit at the white marble countertop in the restaurant's center, or at the narrow marble bar along the wall. There are a few more traditional tables in the side room, and during peak times there's always an hour-long wait. Part of the charm here is jostling for elbow room while bantering with a harried but witty staff.

"It's not a lawsuit about a lobster roll recipe," says Charles. "Thirty-one out of 34 recipes on his menu are mine. They've stolen my restaurant's identity and have plans to make a great deal of money off it, and that's not right, and I plan to do something about it."

In response, McFarland called a press conference at his own New England-style restaurant. Such is Pearl Oyster's reputation that, even in a city with almost 19,000 eateries, television and print outlets showed up. His attorney by his side, McFarland said, "I am deeply saddened to learn that Rebecca Charles has brought an action against me. I believe her action has no merit. I harbor no ill will and wish her safely to port." (McFarland would not give an interview without, as a manager explained, a list of questions beforehand.)

Even so, Ed's Lobster Bar is startlingly reminiscent of Pearl Oyster. The white marble bar on the right looks exactly the same as the one at Pearl, and there's a matching counter on the opposite wall; the upward-fanning "wheat straw" chairs could be made from the very same batch of straw. There's matching gray wainscoting beneath exposed brick, and a window alcove seat in front, which the suit claims was a necessity at Pearl, but a blatant rip-off at the new SoHo bar.

Though only a 20-minute walk apart, Ed's and Pearl do have different vibes, reflecting their downtown neighborhoods. Pearl is on a side street in the West Village, the erstwhile Bohemia, still a live mix of aspiring artistes and wealthy Bobos. The staff dresses like the summer help on Cape Cod – khaki shorts and Polos, usually – and the crowd is casual and talkative.

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