After the death of my road buddy Bill, I continued wandering alone. A fancy word for this is solivagent. Like Pius Itinerant, I like to toss these words around because they seem so much more cultured and eloquent than bum. But It’s all the same thing. Now food, as in where to get a good quantity, and quality at a reasonable price, is always on a road traveler’s mind.
There was a little place in Rising Sun, Maryland, that I liked to hit in the mornings for their breakfast specials, and let’s face it, living as I did, highway diners were not an epicurean four stars in the Michelin Guide, but if you did the same route often enough, you knew the places to avoid.
As I neared the end of my locational insolvency, so to speak, I focused on the state of Maine as being among the most interesting places to spend time in. From the Alagash to Bangor, and all the little communities along the coast, I found a place that I thought I could plan a future in. And, being that I had been raised with lots of seafood on the table at home, it was easy to find tasty familiar and unfamiliar seafood in Maine.
Eventually, I wound up focusing on the city of Portland. There were a number of friends living there, a few small coffeehouses, and it was quiet, clean, and unlike big cities like New York, smog and congestion-free. I soon also found a few restaurants that I could habitually retire to that were reliably good. Two of them are still open and serving good food.
My absolute favorite is Gilbert’s. It’s a chowder house without a lot of great pretensions, just top-notch seafood. Located in the Old Port, I rediscovered it when I was doing boat shows and selling my marine carvings. It was like coming home. Their fish chowder is not just fish soup, it’s a real chowder.
The second place is Becky’s. My first acquaintance with it was when it was the sort of place frequented by fishermen having really early in the morning chow before heading out on the boats. Good and unpretentious food. The food is still good, but unless you catch the early fishing crowd, you’ll contend these days with the tourists who’ve heard the stories about it.
I guess I like the connections to the past. Sitting in the back with my eyes on the door, just in case old friends…or old enemies come in.
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You know I love your road stories. I thought of you when I saw this prompt!
It’s stayed with me. Sometimes, in little things like putting away sharp objects, where an intruder won’t find them as a convenient weapon. Stuff like that never goes away.