Downtown Portland, ME
The trip to Maine was a success! After dropping the dog off at my in-laws, Dan and I drove the 90 miles to Portland, stopping briefly at the Kittery Outlets for some much-needed work-clothes shopping for us both (also a great success – guess who’s looking extra snappy at work today?).
We arrived first at our apty-named and very charming B&B in the West End neighborhood. After dropping our stuff in the room and checking the map, we headed into the Old Port district and walked all around. Old Port is a relatively small area, but jam-packed with stores, restaurants, art galleries and pubs. We had one pint at Gritty McDuff's pub, which brews its own beer locally, and after more walking around finished off the afternoon with thick Belgian suds at the dark, moody Novares Res Bier Café.
Dinner that evening was at Fore Street, said to be one of the best restaurants in all of New England. The entire menu is written from scratch each day so that every ingredient used can be as fresh and as local as possible. Our waitress told Dan that the mushrooms in his lobster dish (lobster meat in a black-bottom skillet cooked in the wood-fire oven with mushrooms in an herb butter) were in still in the field that morning; he also had the oysters. I ordered Maine farm goat cheese ravioli with English peas in a vegetable broth as my appetizer and the turn-spit Maine chicken in red pepper butter with corn bread as my main course. Nothing about our experience at Fore Street was disappointing; the food, the service, the ambience, it was all exemplary. It even smelled incredible, thanks to the roaring wood fire in the brick oven, located smack dab in the center of the restaurant. My hair and clothes reeked of firewood/smoke the next day, but it was so delicious and atmospheric at the time. The view of the bay, along with a great bottle of Bordeaux, capped off an awesome night and a truly memorable and outstanding meal.
The next day we ate waffles, bacon and coffee at our B&B and had an interesting conversation with our fellow guests – one of the women at our table went to Redlands High School! She actually lived in Highland at the time, so I told her that if it had been ten years later she would have actually gone to the new school, Redlands East Valley, where I went. And her husband was at UVA law school the same year I was born in Charlottesville. It was a very funny coincidence. I usually abhore B&Bs because of all the forced interactions but this breakfast was bearable. I’m more of a keep-to-myself person when travelling (and kind of in general, I guess); especially after Dan and I made such a sincere effort to be friendly with the dinner/table-mates on our honeymoon cruise and they were all so unpleasant and awkward.
After checking out of the inn, we spent a few hours driving around to the towns surrounding Portland to see where people actually live. Of course people do live in Portland proper, but if we were ever to move up that way, we’d probably want to be somewhere more rural. We even happened upon a few open houses and decided to pop in and check out the local real estate.
Which was maybe a mistake, because I found my dream house in Yarmouth, Maine and now I am obsessed – it is a 3300 s.f. Colonial/Federal home built in the 1800’s, with 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, on a huge lot, right near the water. Plenty of room for chickens and a goat. The whole place unbelievable, I just kept walking from room to room shaking my head saying “incredible!” over and over. I had never seen another house like it or that I loved so much. The kicker? Most dream homes are only a dream because of the price tag, right? But this house was listed for $125,000 less than what we paid for our condo. Dan and I both were blown away and immediately started plotting our move to Maine (in, like, ten years). So now I may be back in Boston, but I left my heart in an old house in Yarmouth.
We arrived first at our apty-named and very charming B&B in the West End neighborhood. After dropping our stuff in the room and checking the map, we headed into the Old Port district and walked all around. Old Port is a relatively small area, but jam-packed with stores, restaurants, art galleries and pubs. We had one pint at Gritty McDuff's pub, which brews its own beer locally, and after more walking around finished off the afternoon with thick Belgian suds at the dark, moody Novares Res Bier Café.
Dinner that evening was at Fore Street, said to be one of the best restaurants in all of New England. The entire menu is written from scratch each day so that every ingredient used can be as fresh and as local as possible. Our waitress told Dan that the mushrooms in his lobster dish (lobster meat in a black-bottom skillet cooked in the wood-fire oven with mushrooms in an herb butter) were in still in the field that morning; he also had the oysters. I ordered Maine farm goat cheese ravioli with English peas in a vegetable broth as my appetizer and the turn-spit Maine chicken in red pepper butter with corn bread as my main course. Nothing about our experience at Fore Street was disappointing; the food, the service, the ambience, it was all exemplary. It even smelled incredible, thanks to the roaring wood fire in the brick oven, located smack dab in the center of the restaurant. My hair and clothes reeked of firewood/smoke the next day, but it was so delicious and atmospheric at the time. The view of the bay, along with a great bottle of Bordeaux, capped off an awesome night and a truly memorable and outstanding meal.
The next day we ate waffles, bacon and coffee at our B&B and had an interesting conversation with our fellow guests – one of the women at our table went to Redlands High School! She actually lived in Highland at the time, so I told her that if it had been ten years later she would have actually gone to the new school, Redlands East Valley, where I went. And her husband was at UVA law school the same year I was born in Charlottesville. It was a very funny coincidence. I usually abhore B&Bs because of all the forced interactions but this breakfast was bearable. I’m more of a keep-to-myself person when travelling (and kind of in general, I guess); especially after Dan and I made such a sincere effort to be friendly with the dinner/table-mates on our honeymoon cruise and they were all so unpleasant and awkward.
After checking out of the inn, we spent a few hours driving around to the towns surrounding Portland to see where people actually live. Of course people do live in Portland proper, but if we were ever to move up that way, we’d probably want to be somewhere more rural. We even happened upon a few open houses and decided to pop in and check out the local real estate.
Which was maybe a mistake, because I found my dream house in Yarmouth, Maine and now I am obsessed – it is a 3300 s.f. Colonial/Federal home built in the 1800’s, with 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, on a huge lot, right near the water. Plenty of room for chickens and a goat. The whole place unbelievable, I just kept walking from room to room shaking my head saying “incredible!” over and over. I had never seen another house like it or that I loved so much. The kicker? Most dream homes are only a dream because of the price tag, right? But this house was listed for $125,000 less than what we paid for our condo. Dan and I both were blown away and immediately started plotting our move to Maine (in, like, ten years). So now I may be back in Boston, but I left my heart in an old house in Yarmouth.
Dan in front of Gritty McDuff's pub
1 comment:
Portland, Maine sounds too good to be true! It's hard to imagine such a place...perhaps because I've only lived in the midwest :-(
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