Saturday Morning Grocery Mile in Portland, Maine

For seafood, and any food, really, Portland is a great place to visit and an even better place to live. Amongst the city waterfront’s crowd of 19th- and early 20th-century brick buildings, there’s a remarkably dense concentration of restaurants, watering holes, breweries, bakeries, coffee roasters, groceries ranging from Asian to Latin to Italian, even a mead factory. In the cobblestoned Old Port you can find the august heroes of the city’s 1990’s gustatory revolution, Fore Street. Hugo’s , joined by more recent standouts, from Paciarino , whose fresh-made pastas transport you to the Tuscan countryside, to the ambitious world-beat concoctions of Masa Miyake , who now has his own holding about 20 miles away, where he grows many of his own elements.

You could (and should) plan a week-long itinerary around the city’s great restaurants, as many do. But the simple pleasure of selecting elements and enjoying them at their freshest shouldn’t be overlooked by visitors; whenever I have friends coming into town, I send them on my favorite Saturday morning grocery itinerary, to make like a local and gather the fixings for a perfect afternoon picnic.

As, after all, the same resources that attracted ambitious chefs to Portland—abundant seafood and an equal abundance of local produce—are available to you and me.& William Hereford The mile-long journey starts on Munjoy Hill, in the city’s east end. I begin, usually sleepy and purposefully underfed, at the wide boulevard of the Eastern Promenade, overlooking a long grassy sward that slopes down to Casco Bay, its low-slung islands, and its constant buzz of boat traffic. CBD, whose plant is just over the other side of the hill, was one of the city’s first local roasters.

For 20 years now, early in the week, the toasty, caramelized scent of their morning roast has wafted across the neighborhood. I do stop at brick-faced Micucci Grocery , where I pull a deli ticket and contemplate the mosaic of Italian basics in front of me: prosciutto they’ll slice thinner than paper, mortadella, well-priced roma tomatoes, and, a dollar less than anywhere else in town, silky-soft rounds of cheese from the Nubian goats who live at Fern Hill Farm over in the state’s Lakes Region.

Upstairs in Micucci’s bakery I find the reward for starving myself all morning: a puffy tile of Sicilian pizza from the brick oven, which will be my late breakfast (as a marker of Portland’s culinary engagement, these tangy squares were a closely-followed news item when the original baker left in a huff). I head around the corner, past another Rosemont—this one dedicated to fresh produce, much of it local—to waterfront Commercial Street. When the ships come in, that tarmac is a red carpet for a steady procession of diners who line up to choose from dozens of offerings: breads in shelves and baskets in back, pastries on the countertop next to the registers.

William Hereford Back in the ‘90s Standard made its bones with just-so French baguettes and croissants. Today I choose the trusty baguette, and on to the finish line, less than a mile from where I began: Harbor Fish Market , which opened in 1969 on a downtown wharf where lobstermen could—and still do—motor in with their daily crop, to what is now a node for national distribution of New England crustaceans and bivalves. William Hereford There are well-cut fish from far and near, and mussels grown on a rope-farm a few miles out in the bay.

In season there’s Maine shrimp (which to me carry a hint of cilantro), Gulf of Maine haddock and cod, fresh Rhode Island squid. Sure, Harbor brings in Wellfleets from Cape Cod and Beau Soleils from New Brunswick, but with oysters, just as with tomatoes and corn, fresh-picked makes all the difference.

I call a friend out on one of the islands and catch the next ferry there. But first, we’ll sit by the shore and shuck and slurp those oysters—as I recommend you do—with a bit of coarse pepper, lemon and chive.

We’ll line the baguette with prosciutto, local tomatoes, Maine cheese, and, for a lark, spread on some of that muhammarah.