Roadfood_ Revised Edition - Jane Stern [16]
The enduring regional value we like best at Cole Farms is the importance of pudding. The lineup is the same every day: tapioca, bread, Indian, and Grape-Nuts. Indian pudding, the rugged cornmeal samp sweetened with molasses, is served hot under a scoop of melting Cole Farms vanilla ice cream. Grape-Nuts pudding comes as a cool block of custard topped by a ribbon of sweetened cereal that has an amber crust reminiscent of a swanky crème brûlée. Swanky, it is not; Yankee, it is.
Colucci’s Hilltop Market
135 Congress St.
207–774–2279
Portland, ME
L | $
Portland, Maine, loves Italians. Although Italians are similar to hoagies, heroes, grinders, blimps, zeps, wedges, and submarines elsewhere, the Downeast version has character all its own. We remained ignorant of this regional passion for years because Italians tend not to be served in places people go to eat. They are a specialty of convenience stores, delis, and butcher’s counters in groceries, where they are made to order, wrapped, and carried out. We have never seen one listed on a sit-down restaurant menu. It was a letter from Italian loyalist Bettie Shea, describing its “marvelous taste and texture,” that diverted us from our usual Portland chowder diet to go hunting for a real Italian.
The best one we found was at Colucci’s Hilltop Market. As proprietor Dick Colucci expertly assembled one for us behind the counter of his corner store, he told us that his place has been a source of Italians since the end of World War II, and that the big issue among those who make them is not lunch meat or seasoning, but bread. “A good, fresh roll is the key,” he counseled, reeling off the names of bakeries known for making the long buns on which Italians are made.
The uniqueness of Portland’s Italian is not owed to the meats and cheeses, which are commonplace, but to the toppings and the bread. Thick-cut tomatoes, crunchy strips of pepper, briny olives, and a surfeit of spiced oil give the upper layer a brilliant sparkle. And the bread below, completely unlike the muscular, chewy lengths typical of Mid-Atlantic sub sandwiches, is tender and light, something like a gigantic version of the split-top buns in which Yankee wieners typically are served. The layers of salami or ham and cheese form a barrier between the bread and the oily vegetables above, but once that barrier is breached (generally at first bite), the bread quickly absorbs what’s on top and loses its ability to hold anything. The experience is similar to eating a hot buttered lobster roll: midway through, the absorbent bun has transformed from a foundation into just one element among the stuff it originally contained. By the time you near the end of an Italian, the ingredients on the folded-open butcher paper no longer resemble a sandwich at all. They have become a deliciously messy cold cut salad, laced with fluffy tufts of oil-sopped bread.
We also recommend Colucci’s for the big, gnarled blueberry muffins set out each morning on the counter in muffin tins, for cheeseburgers made from just-ground beef, and for such démodé hot lunches as mac and cheese, beef chili, and American chop suey. There is no place to eat in this family-run market; any meal you get is takeout. From the outside, it looks like any other corner grocery, its sign advertising, “Meats—Produce—Groceries—Lottery Tickets—Ice—Deli.” Inside, shelves are stocked with a high-low cultural array of groceries that includes Twinkies and imported olive oil.
Five Islands Lobster Co.
1447 Five Islands Rd.
207–371–2990
Georgetown, ME
LD (summer only) | $$
There is no finer place to eat lobster than Five Islands, at the end of the road on a dock from which a couple of dozen lobster boats sail. Seating is at picnic tables on a wooden deck