Finally finished my Portland writeup. Apologies if this is too much travelogue & too non-food-focused for eGullet. It's just the way my stuff comes out. Anyway I hope some of the lodging stuff might prove useful to other folks.
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We’d reserved our first night in Portland, a Wednesday, at the
Eastland Park Hotel. It proved to be a lovely 1927 building on High Street, set back from Congress Street by a corner park where the local skateboard kids were having a blast jumping off of the varying elevations. I liked the hotel immediately, in spite of some initial confusion when we checked in and found that Expedia hadn’t faxed our reservation. The manager quickly put that right and gave us our room, promising to straighten things out with Expedia during our stay.
The Eastland Park was very comfortable, with well appointed rooms, a lovely view of the church directly across High Street, a window that you can open, and pleasant staff. They have a rooftop cocktail lounge that we never got to; I imagine that the view is wonderful. They serve a decent continental breakfast in the lobby outside the hotel restaurant – such comfy chairs! – or you can order a full breakfast in the restaurant. The front desk will stamp your parking ticket from the garage next door, so it’ll cost you $10 flat to park for the night. There’s a connecting covered walkway to the garage from a side door on the north side of the Eastland, and the multi-story garage has an elevator. The only awkward spot for handling luggage can be the two short flights of steps from the hotel entrance up to the front desk, but there’s always a concierge there ready to assist.
We went out immediately to walk around Congress Street in the late afternoon. There’s a funky mix of people on the street – the aforementioned skateboarders, SMU students, elderly folks from a nearby senior housing complex, a few hard luck cases from the localy family court, a couple of homeless people, and lots of business folks. A crew was busy setting up a soundstage in Monument Square for a free concert by Roger Clyne & The Peacemakers the next night.
There’s an interesting variety of shops on Congress – some antique places, three terrific used book stores, an L.L. Bean factory store, a few clothing boutiques and art galleries – and a wide mix of restaurants. Our location on High Street was roughly midway between Uffa, a few blocks to the west, and 555 to the east. We looked at both thanks to the recommendations here, and they seemed enticing. I was particuarly drawn to Uffa, the menu and the look of the place immediately appealed to me.
But this was our first time in Portland, and we were eager to see the Old Port area. I was also dealing with pizza cravings and getting a hankering to try Flatbread Co. (also recommended here), so we set off down the hill with that as our goal. We passed Kathadin on the way, another intriguing restaurant; we were tempted to stop right there, but those cursed pizza cravings were too strong.
We hit Fore Street and the swirl of Portland twilight life; shopfront window lights gradually replaced the dwindling daylight. In the middle of the block we noticed a crumbling alleyway that led down to an inviting cobblestone street and a sign for Cinque Terre restaurant. Their menu looked promising, the look of Wharf street reminded us both of a cobbled street in Zurich that leads up to one of that city’s most innovative restaurants. We agreed that this would be our backup if we couldn’t get in to Flatbread.
We wound our way & down Fore St. & Commercial St. Many storefronts & blocks later, we found Flatbread. It was mobbed, there was a half hour wait. I’d gotten far too hungry from our wanderings to wait, so we took a direct route back to Wharf St., only to find a 45-minute wait at Cinque Terre. Street & Co., across the street, was so crowded it didn’t seem worth the time it would take to inquire. On a Wednesday night, the Old Port was thriving.
A few doors east of Street was
Soffritto, which trumpeted its Creative Italian Cuisine in a way that made me wary. It was pretty well filled indoors, but there wasn’t a soul at any of the outdoor tables on the cobblestones; that also seemed a bit suspicious. The evening had gotten a bit cool at that point but it seemed to us an ideal evening for dining al fresco. I was too hungry to go on; we sat.
We started with salads of very good field greens, perfectly dressed in a creamy house vinaigrette. Some good chewy Italian bread was accompanied by a small ramekin of oil, herbs, grated cheese and a splash of balsamic vinegar that was all curiously flavorless. I thought they’d have done better with a simple dish of good oil.
Still wanting something heavily tomatoed to satisfy those pizza cravings, I went with the lobster fra diavolo, which was huge. The briny juices turned the fettucine underneath squishier than I’d have liked, but the sauce was robust, with large chunks of tomato and onion and a healthy dose of herbs and hot peppers.
Sheila had the Tuscan seafood stew in a saffron tomato sauce. (The seafood was tuna, swordfish and salmon, the mixture changes daily.) She thought it was dull, though the fish was fresh and nicely cooked. I made the mistake of not sampling it until my palate had been thoroughly peppered; the sauce seemed well made, but I can’t tell you whether it had any subtle qualities.
Halfway through our meal, three ladies of a certain age also asked to be seated outdoors. Sometimes it’s good to find fellow eccentrics.
We skipped dessert, hoping to grab some strolling ice cream from Fuller’s, just back up the alley and around the corner on Fore St., but we arrived there a couple of minutes too late.
The next morning we scoured Congress St., took our used book finds back to the hotel room, then walked down to the Old Port again. The shops were open, tourists and locals were swarming, it was a brilliant sunny day – this is just a great city to walk in. We discovered that the trick to avoiding steepness on the way back up to Congress St. is to head up Exchange St to Federal, or turn left a block sooner on Middle, then right on Temple and slant along the plaza that leads up to Monument Square. Not the shortest route on the map but certainly the easiest.
We crossed Congress St. at Preble and went a block down the other side of the hill to reach the
Portland Public Market. This is my idea of a great lunch. From Stone Soup, I got a delicious cup of tomato-leek soup, with more big tomato chunks, and a most refereshing curried chicken salad, with a slice of excellent multi-grain bread. Sheila had a shrimp salad sandwich that she said was first-rate. You can buy your lunch from one of the many vendors there and eat either in one of the small ground floor areas with tables, or up a flight of stairs on the mezzanine (I think there’s an elevator too) overlooking the market below. It’s sunny and airy up there, and there’s a giant lobster for your amusement.
We then got some delicious raspberry squares from one of the bakers and a cup of tea from Breaking New Grounds – they measure your choice of loose tea into a muslin teabag on the spot, a nice touch.
While sipping my tea, I called Holiday Inn on the cell phone, found I could cancel our Saturday reservation without a penalty, did so and booked us back in to the Eastland Park. We’d decided that the Eastland had much more character, and for a rate identical to the Holiday Inn’s lowest. The HI probably does have great views from its bayside rooms if your lodging budget can double, but that wasn’t in the cards for us.
After two days of family events, we returned to Portland late Saturday afternoon. I figured that we should probably make dinner reservations somewhere after our Wednesday experiences. However, I wanted to look at several B&Bs that I’d spotted on our map in the interim – as fond as I am of the Eastland Park, it’s always nice to know your options – so I was planning a winding route down to the Old Port. I didn’t know how long this would take and didn’t want to be tied to a reservation time, so we decided to wing it once again.
First stop was
The Percy Inn, on Pine St. just around the corner from Uffa. It looked lovely. We stuck our heads in the front door and peeked in, mindful of the “don’t let out the cat!” sign – didn’t see the beast. I’d stay here without hesitation if I can get a competitive rate.
Our next goal was
West End Inn, a couple of blocks west on Pine. The blocks started looking pretty long, and the sun was sinking, so we abandoned that quest and headed down to
The Inn at Park Spring. It also looked like a fine place to stay, in a location very convenient to the Old Port.
It was a warm evening, and we again wanted to dine outdoors. We passed an interesting looking Japanese place on our way down the hill, but the vibe on Wharf St. was calling to me, that little block must have some strong feng shui going. As I expected, every place was jammed; but lo, there was a lone table for two outdoors at Soffritto. It was fate; as much as I wanted to try someplace different, we just grabbed it.
The strains of Saturday night showed in the salads; this time the field greens were heavily diluted with romaine, and were more drowning than dressed. I ordered seared scallops with fettucine, asparagus and tomato in a balsamic honey butter sauce. Pretty much a waste of some really fine scallops, overwhelmed by way too much sauce that was both too balsamic and too sweet to begin with. The dish seemed overbalanced, with not enough asparagus or tomato; pump up the veggies, use only a dollop of the sauce, and it could have been pretty good.
Sheila ordered grilled scallops with risotto and cabernet syrup. It was a small masterpiece, simply drizzled with the syrup, the kind of dish where you savor each bite because you don’t want it to end. The scallops were perfectly cooked, still swewet, with just enough grilled flavor; the risotto was deliciously cheesy and laced with the right amount of green onion. I was totally jealous.
Service at Soffritto was friendly, gracious & prompt on both nights, and I think their outdoor dining area is a wonderful place to while away an evening (though if the air conditioner is running, watch out for the one table that’s right in its exhaust path). It may not be Portland’s best food, apart from those grilled scallops (and that diavolo sauce showed promise), but it provides a very pleasant experience if you’re as fond of al fresco dining as we are.
Oh yes, that night we did make it up to Fuller’s before closing. Strolling around the Old Port one more time with two scoops of chocolate and one of butter pecan was the perfect way to end our stay in Portland.
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