The building was originally an auto garage, and later housed. One of these days I’ll have to return for the all-you-can-eat, Shipyard Beer-battered fish ‘n’ chips. The Porthole opened in 1942 in the alley just off of Franklin Street near Old Fraternity Row. Yeah, the Porthole is my kinda breakfast joint. easy 25 (Portland) 125 Jan 8 Vintage Solid Brass Heavy Round Porthole 125 75. A number of reviewers find the staff well-trained. An anchor business in Portland’s Old Port since before it was called that, the Porthole Restaurant & Pub has sold to the owners of two other local restaurants. Eggs were perfectly poached that 75¢ biscuit turned out to be a gigunda masterpiece. Dogs Portland Craigslistdo NOT contact me with unsolicited services or. The homely atmosphere of The Porthole Restaurant & Pub allows visitors to relax after a hard working day. I kept it simple with poached eggs and one of the homemade biscuits. Waitress arrived at the table with a smile, menus and coffee pot in hand. Yet even here, like nearly everywhere in the city, the menu touts that it supports local farmers and producers. Good, relatively cheap (you’re on the waterfront) basics-think biscuits and gravy, buttermilk pancakes, corned beef hash-outnumber those surprises. Still a bit too cool for the deck, but soon (somehow, I’m okay with inhaling diesel boat engine fumes and the pungent aroma of bait along with my blueberry pancakes).Īnd the food? Hey, it’s breakfast, and this isn’t a fancy schmancy place (well, except for the lobster Benedict or the creme brule French toast). The Porthole Restaurant & Pub has the largest waterfront deck in Portland. One neighboring table was spread with papers and Blackberries, signs of a biz deal in progress at another, two middle-aged men were reliving their high school glory days by the window, two women were holding a gab fest a young family filled the street-side table and a pair of bewildered, fearless tourists had snagged the aisle table between the front door and the deck door, in case they decided to make a quick escape. I love the Porthole, a retro, unfussy dineresque joint hanging over the Custom House Wharf: faded signs, more-faded linoleum, an old pot-bellied stove (replaced by a far more efficient gas one), an upright piano, hospital-green paneled walls, a counter full of salty character (and often, characters).
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