What were your first impressions when you arrived?
Down on the quieter end of Fore Street, a shape shifting takes place over the course of the day. What begins as a funky morning bakery-café with blonde wood tables, banquettes, and whitewashed brick walls rolls into a brunch-meets-lunch brigade, with patrons reveling on picnic tables al fresco on sunny days. Then, four nights a week in the evening, tables get pushed together, lighting gets low, et voila: operation fine dining (as in: outrageously excellent five-course dinners) goes into full effect.
What’s the crowd like?
I won’t be using the term “foodie” to describe the crew here, because these aren’t bucket list-obsessed, Insta-braggarts. They’re just people who love food, and are in the know about how damn good it is here. They show up at all times of the day (since this is an all-day restaurant), and come in all forms—from suits picking up delectable cannoli croissants to packs of moms hooting over long brunches to culinary nomads who’ve reserved ahead and journeyed for the epic sit-down dinners.
What should we be drinking?
Caffeinated creations getting poured around here are no joke: The smoked maple rosemary latte with sea salt has been known to convert even a few resolute anti-flavor purists. At brunch, lunch, and dinner, there’s a lighthearted mishmash of beers, ciders, and wines (including plenty of rosés, orange wines, and bubbles—plus pseudo-cocktails made without hard alcohols, like the orange creamsicle mimosas). Then at dinner, the serious vinos roll out, from a formidable selection of natural vintages. Though no bottle price dips below $43, they make up for it at lunch by offering $2.50 High Life Ponys, and during Happy Hour, when wine bottles are half off.
Main event: the food. Give us the lowdown—especially what not to miss.
“Bread & Friends” isn’t a misnomer; both “bread” and “friends” are foundational to the vision here. Created and co-owned by four friends (all with previous hospitality industry cred), it was built first around a meticulous micro-bakery. (The stone-milled, wood-fired sourdough loaf alone is worth a stop.) That same everything-from-scratch cooking evolved to create symphonic lunch dishes like the crispy-edged dutch baby, topped with warm brie, roasted mushrooms, sweetly acidic maple vinegar and a sunny egg. But it’s the five-course dinners for which you should truly buckle up—and literally loosen your belt. Expect anything from grilled oysters with kelp butter, shiro dashi pearls, and pickled green apple to dry-aged duck with braised leeks redolent of lemon thyme, balanced with both rye miso cream and intense cherry agrodolce. And that wood-fired grill? It once again gets a workout come dessert—witness the almond olive oil cake, with its various yin-yang plays of textures and flavors: a sweet-tart rhubarb compote, spruce tip syrup, and anise hyssop whip.
And how did the front-of-house folks treat you?
Daytime staff is a different, far more laid-back animal than dinnertime service. Not that anyone here is uncaring, mind you; the underlying, unspoken pact between everyone who walks in the door and everyone who works here is that they all love and appreciate excellent food from as many local sources as possible, served with passion and art—and a natural chumminess often results. At dinner, things become a bit more buttoned up and serious; information about dish preparations stands in for jokes and gossip, but the warmth and attention don’t fade.
What’s the real-real on why we’re coming here?
It’s a delight when you can experience the vision of several incredibly hardworking, creative people in its ascendency. That’s what Portland, Maine’s Bread & Friends is right now. And it’s both infectious and delicious.
Dining and Cooking