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The Portland Logbook #15

The Portland Logbook #15

This Week in Portland Maine

Jake Newman
May 13, 2025

The Fiddlehead Window’s Open. Barely.

How to Forage and Cook Spring's Most Elusive Green

There’s a very specific moment in Maine when you know spring’s serious. You spot one curled green fist poking out of the ground, and just like that, the fiddleheads are back.

They don’t stick around. One week, they’re pushing out of the mud behind a guardrail or between red bricks in the West End. The next they’re history. It’s one of the last truly wild foods left. No plastic clamshells, no greenhouse versions. Just raw, stubborn greens available for about five minutes if you’re lucky.

You’ll find them in late April to early June. Usually near moving water, Presumpscot, Capisic, maybe the back side of Stroudwater if you know what you’re doing.

Last spring, while I was up in mid-coast Maine, I saw this older woman crouched low in the mud. I thought she might’ve taken a spill, so I asked if she was okay. She didn’t even look up, just pointed and said, “Look.” There I saw tight green spires pushing up through the muck. “I don’t touch them before Mother’s Day,” she said. “My grandmother always said the frost sticks around ‘til then.” Then she went right back to picking. And between you and me? I’d trust her over Google any day.

Long before chefs plated them with aioli, fiddleheads meant survival. The Wabanaki knew where to look and, more importantly, why. After a winter of salt pork, cellared roots, and starch-heavy rations, these tight green coils weren’t just vegetables, they were medicine. A jolt of chlorophyll. A bitter, wild reset for bodies starved of anything fresh.

If you go foraging, follow the rules: take the tight coils, leave the rest. Use a knife. Don’t rip an entire patch out like an amateur. Pick a few, move on. Keep the land alive for the next person.

And here’s where most people screw it up: the cleaning. These little spirals come packed with brown papery gunk that doesn’t want to leave. You wash until your fingers go numb. Then you boil them. Twice. This isn’t a rare steak kind of vegetable. It’s a “boil until soft or regret it deeply” kind of thing.

Flavor? Somewhere between asparagus and green beans, with a bit of forest floor and funk. Boil them tender, then sauté with bacon fat or butter. Add lemon or breadcrumbs. They’re weird. They’re perfect.

The season’s short. The rules? Simple. Get outside. Get muddy. Earn it.

Not sure where to start? This guide from Pineland Farms breaks down how to forage responsibly, what to pick, what to skip, and how not to poison yourself. Worth a read if you still think every fern is fair game.

Want to cook like you’ve been doing this your whole life? These fiddlehead recipes won’t steer you wrong. Just don’t skip the boiling, this isn’t amateur hour.

🥬 Have you ever had fiddleheads?

The Grand Trunk Station: Portland’s Forgotten Front Door

Before craft beer and brunch lines, India Street had a train station that connected Portland to the rest of the world. The Grand Trunk was more than a stop, it was an arrival.

If you were coming from Montreal, this was the end of the line. Immigrants from Canada, Europe, and beyond came through here. They stepped off ferries from House Island after inspections and headed straight to the red-brick depot that anchored the East End. For many, it was the first piece of America they touched. Not Ellis Island. Portland.

Built in 1903, the Grand Trunk Station turned Portland into Canada’s ice-free shipping port in winter. Freight, families, laborers—it all came through here. Trains ran daily, hauling grain, cargo, and the hopes of people starting over.

And then, like most things in Portland, it vanished. The trains slowed, the grain dried up, and by 1966, the whole thing was gone. No marker, no plaque. Bulldozed and paved over with condos, a bank, and a pet store. Full honesty, I do buy my cat and dog food there, so I guess my coworkers benefit from the historical erasure.

Most people today walk past the old corridor without realizing it was once the heartbeat of the city. But Portland remembers things in its bones. You just have to know where to look.

🐾 Adoptable Buddies of the Week! 🐾

🐕 Confetti – 64 pounds of love and zoomies. Loves fetch, tug, and post-play naps. She wants to be your one and only (no other pets), and prefers kids 8+. Big loyalty, bigger cuddles.

🐈 Dae-Su – Quirky, chatty, and low-key dramatic. Warms up slow but becomes a total flop king. Adult-only, cat-savvy home preferred. Name’s pronounced “dye-soo”—you’ll be saying it a lot.

🐹 Twiggy – A shy little orange puffball. Still warming up to people, but worth the wait. Might do well with another pig, with the right intro.

🐕 Interested? Check them out here