One Night in Portland

Remember that book of Calvin and Hobbes comic strips, "The Days are Just Packed"?  That's sort of how I'm feeling at the moment.  I'm like a kid who is having way too much fun, and is probably managing to get himself in trouble along the way without even realizing it.

Team Grigsby said a wistful goodbye to Castine the morning of July 5 and headed down Portland for a night.  For those of you who don't know (or remember), I lived in Portland back in 2002-2003 when I clerked for Judge Kermit Lipez.  Whenever I think about my year spent in Portland, I get all nostalgic and misty-eyed.  I had an amazing time during my year there, and to this day I wonder if I should have just set down roots and never left. 

We arrived in Portland shortly after noon, and Jenny and I joined the judge and his wife for lunch.  The judge, Nancy, and I laughed and reminisced and caught each other up on our families, friends, and our various doings.  And we even occasionally managed to loop Jenny into the conversation so she wouldn't feel left out.

After lunch, Jenny and I explored the Old Port, which looks pretty much the same as it did when I left almost ten years ago, with just a few exceptions -- a couple of storefronts look new or different, but most haven't changed at all.  We had a pint at Gritty McDuff's, we people watched, and we just wandered.  We eventually got settled into our hotel room at the Eastland Park, and then we went to church.

Yes, church.  Have you ever had an amazing meal or a stellar cocktail that bordered on the divine?  Well, Portland has a new restaurant that pretty much guarantees you a religious experience of some sort.  Restaurant Grace.  Set in a 150-year-old de-commissioned Methodist church, one need only look at the bar to know that drunkeness can be next to godliness:

Boozibus Vobiscum

The opening cocktail was a blessed event befitting the venue -- a margarita made with house-infused strawberry-jalapeño-pineapple tequila that started me on my pilgrimage.  And then the meal itself:  Salt cured foie gras to start, followed by goat cheese gnocchi prepared with an oxtail ragout, stone fruit, mushrooms, and baby peas, accompanied by a lovely Sangiovese.  With each bite of the gnocchi, I thought I had died and gone to heaven, with stained-glass angels escorting me into the clouds.  Jenny had some sort of fish dish, but really, I was so hung up on the gnocchi that I didn't really notice what she was eating. 

After completely sating ourselves at Grace, we stumbled into the Portland night, had a quick nightcap at Blackstone's, Portland's oldest gay bar, and then called it a night.

The next morning we roused ourselves, not too bright and not too early, loaded up Grigsby, and hit the road for New Hampshire.  But not without first making a stop at the Portland Headlight for the obligatory photo opp:

Jenny at the Portland Headlight

Maine.  The way life should be.