By Kitty & Greg
In visiting Provincetown for the last fourteen summers, we’ve amassed our fair share of frequented establishments that make it feel like “our trip.” But, like a television show that starts to drag in its third season, introducing some new characters is key. When planning this year’s voyage, we drafted a shared Google doc of places we couldn’t do without alongside novel restaurants that have been part of the landscape for years yet we’d never explored. We also decided to leave some room for spontaneity and follow the culinary advice of friends who live in town. Our captain's log lists old loves, fresh flames, and dishes that will always have a place at our table.
Beginning between bread
A single sandwich has ruled the Provincetown lunch rush for years. It's a sandwich we salivate over year-round. Pop + Dutch's masterpiece, the Agent Dale Cooper. As soon as the Pilgrim Monument appears on the horizon of Route 6 East, we're placing our online order. Otherworldly, fresh-baked focaccia is the scaffolding for an interior stuffed with house-cooked turkey, cheddar, avocado, pickled shallots, tomatoes, and bibb lettuce. The ritual of tearing through an Agent Dale Cooper acts as the commencement of our trip.
After sampling every sandwich on the Pop + Dutch menu, we've developed a passionate love affair with a condiment—Mama Lil's Pickled Pepper Mayo. Sometimes we substitute her for Dale's signature dollop of Duke's. With a custom Agent Dale in one hand and a cold brew in the other, all feels right in the world. Eating this puppy on the sands of boy beach, tasting the salt of the focaccia on your tongue, and the salt of the Atlantic on your skin is something we hope you can all experience.
This year we gluttonously chased down our Agent Dales with a shared "Summer Special". Beefsteak tomatoes swimming in mayonnaise and lovingly slapped between two slices of light potato bread. Aside from a newfound favorite, one of us walked away from this trip with a covetable piece of Pop + Dutch merch—a hand-lettered tote that reads, "Slut for an Agent Dale."
Poppin’ pasteis
Provincetown Portuguese Bakery is exactly what it sounds like. A fixture of the community since 1900 that for some reason has never called to us while prowling for a pre-tea treat. Perhaps we’d ignored it from a place of judgment. Given the long line spilling out its doors, one could guess it was the kind of place that attracted tourists most interested in taffy and sea glass earrings. One afternoon we decided to pay the bakery a visit and try to prove our asses wrong. We grabbed a couple of pasteis de nata and ate them on the crowded sidewalk in front of a garbage can, while disgruntled Bank of America customers discovered that the nearby ATM was out of cash. We were happy to have handed over our credit cards for these perfectly flaky, sweet and silky custard cups. This is a stop that will be baked into next year's agenda.
Room at the Inn
When we first came to Provincetown, The Red Inn appeared like the garden Alice spies through a keyhole at the beginning of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Frustratingly within reach but seemingly impossible to access. A charming crimson architectural curiosity set in a sumptuous bed of flowers that we knew we couldn't afford. We spent the next few summers chowing down on grab-and-go day trip menu items while coveting what we couldn't have—watching people enjoy a pre-dinner cocktail on the lawn, hearing the roar of dinnertime service from open windows. A few years in, we decided that we could budget for a brunch. The restaurant was mostly empty on a gray Sunday morning. We sat outside on the patio and marveled at the beauty of being able to lounge on the bay and eat eggs. After our meal, we slipped down to the beach and prowled the lunar scape (and smells) of low tide. As our summers in PTown rambled on and salaries increased, we worked The Red Inn into our rotation of must-dos every trip.
Their menu hasn't changed in literal years, which garners a specific feeling of familiarity. Comfort is found in ordering our yearly serving of savory bread pudding and pan-roasted cod. Baskets of fries and Kobe beef sliders are devoured, and the annual cracking of crème brûlée feels ceremonial.
The Red Inn, whether they do so begrudgingly or not, has always made a table appear for us when we needed it. When we’ve faced the cold shoulder of Sal’s or needed a late-night treat, we come to The Red Inn’s host stand to grovel and beg. There’s one picnic table, just past the entrance archway on the front lawn, nestled in its own little corner among lemon-colored lilies and fragrant Hosta. On several occasions of our pleading, the staff transformed this unassuming park fixture into a magical dinner tableau. A linen tablecloth and place settings are popped on, and a cascade of candles in hurricane glassware filled with sand cast a warm, romantic glow. The food tastes better under the stars and offers a front-row seat to the evening parade of revelers sauntering down Commercial Street.
After fourteen seasons, visiting The Red Inn feels like a homecoming.
Garden of eatin’
In the hustle and bustle of Commercial Street, it’s easy to stroll right past Nor’East Beer Garden. For an establishment that’s been in business since 2010, we’re ashamed to admit that it hadn’t really pinged our radar until three or four summers ago. Nor’East is nestled between a number of retail outposts offering everything from PTown branded bumper stickers to bougie lube and bedazzled kaftans—there’s a lot to look at. Not to mention the overgrown, enchanting greenery that acts both as a canopy and a velvet rope. Every evening, the restaurant's host du jour sits perched upon a stool at the patio entrance, screening potential guests. Last summer, Nor’East was closed or at capacity each time we tried our hand at getting a table. We’re they shrouded in mystery, or are we just a group of shitty planners?
Luck changed this summer when we were able to slink into a late dinner after a pleasant evening cruising with Art’s Dune Tours (another experience we’d let slip by for 14 years). We were seated in a dimly lit, oversized booth giddy with excitement that the vines had finally unraveled and let us through the gates.
Our server, Mikey, poured us water from a galactic-looking silver carafe and walked us through the menu. He seduced us with a tale of growing up in Long Island and his childhood "trauma" of navigating grated Parmesan cheese. Our conversation surrounding the iconic green shaker of Kraft crumbles was charming and vulnerable and helped set the mood for our meal.
Over dinner we ooh’ed and ahh’ed about dishes like whipped ricotta with rosemary toast, stracciatella with beets, burrata with fried dough and peas, and endive salad with native gooseberries. We sipped on inventive cocktails like arugula mojitos and wines that don’t show up on the menu of just any old patio. Gigante beans with saffron and tomato, amatriciana, and nduja arancini put us over the edge and we went home and filled our fridge with leftovers.
A sweet see you later
Settling into the new reality that our favorite menu in town at Strangers & Saints has transitioned to a spread of dips and breads, we decided to lean in and order a big mess of everything and make do. Luckily, they haven’t diluted their fabulous cocktail menu, and after another week of sampling espresso martinis, we can definitively say Strangers & Saints boasts the best one in town. Creamy and dreamy, strong and not too sugary, the mixologists behind the absinthe-green lit bar are doing Lady Delish’s work. Ending our week with this expertly crafted, caffeinated cocktail is the sweetest goodbye kiss.
This year, familiar faces and dishes we dream about when we close our eyes were peppered with new eats like a red sauce dinner at Front Street, a locals-only lunch rec at Rosie’s Cantina, and a misty outdoor brunch at Liz’s Cafe Anybody’s Bar. We traded a beach bonfire for a dusk dune tour, called back a climb to the top of the Pilgrim Monument, and took our seasonal seat at Dina Martina’s drag show. We swapped daily scoops of ice cream at Nut House for afternoon cookies at Kohi, relished in the tradition of post-Wave Bar pizza at Spiritus, and finally succumbed to purchasing a quarter pound of confections from the Provincetown Fudge Factory. Deciding who will appear in a recurring role next summer is all part of the fun, and like any long-term relationship, you've got to shake things up to keep the magic alive.
Name drops: Pop + Dutch, Provincetown Portuguese Bakery, The Red Inn, Nor’East Beer Garden, Strangers & Saints
A special thank you to this week’s illustrator, Carlos Miranda1. See more of his work here.
Carlos Miranda is a Venezuelan artist based in New York City. His background in engineering has helped him become quite the problem solver; yes, he can finally fix his toilet, put up shelves, and unclog shower drainage! Most importantly, he went to school for illustration at the Fashion Institute of Technology. Improving his observational skills has allowed him to bring to life all the fun ideas that cross his mind. He likes to experiment when making art, often going from one discipline to another, moving between illustration, graphic design, and animation depending on the project. In his world, there are no limits.
His influences include pop art, toys, industrial design, architecture, and music.