This Little-known Peninsula in Maine Is One of the Best Places to Eat in the U.S. Right Now

How to eat your way through Maine's Blue Hill Peninsula.

I heard it from more than one person: this was unusually clear weather for Deer Isle, the craggy, granitic spit of land connected by suspension bridge to mid-coast Maine’s Blue Hill Peninsula.

When, on Labor Day Weekend, my husband, two kids, and I pulled up to Aragosta at Goose Cove, the 21-acre, nine-cottage, three-suite property on Deer Isle known for its attendant restaurant run by chef-owner Devin Finigan, there was not a stitch of classic Maine fog in sight. Instead, clear and sunny weather greeted us, as well as spindly spruce trees, wide granite boulders, and a view of Barred Island, which guests can walk to at low tide.

“Deer Isle is unique,” Finigan says. “It's an island made up of fishermen, artists, and summer folks. The biggest draw, for me, to this island is the ocean and community. It doesn't matter if you are a chef, fisherman, carpenter, or waitress; everyone who lives on the island has a sense of togetherness.”

When dusk fell, we tumbled from our cottage, Thistle, and into the restaurant, where we were treated to the culinary exception that is Aragosta: a multi-course meal at a destination restaurant in the middle of what feels like nowhere. But Aragosta is, in fact, somewhere, and the sense of place – ocean, bramble, rock – comes through in every tumbling course. First: local lobster, bathed in a smoked egg emulsion and served with a nori-dusted cracker. Then, a parade of other courses, notable for their sense of terroir and presentation.

On a bed of sea rocks and moss: oysters with a swipe of orange curry and a tendril of carrot; pink-shelled scallops with a hint of lardo, and another with a quenelle of osetra. A symphony of an intermezzo known as “ode to summer,” featuring vegetables from farms like Four Season Farm, in Cape Rosier. Salty-sweet hon shimeji mushrooms, a salad of lightly bitter greens, blistered tomatoes beneath crisp breadcrumbs, pucks of bread and whipped butter with flakes of caramelized onions.

The lobster agnolotti, topped with a shaving of truffle and a tiny claw, is Finigan’s signature, but my favorite was her love letter to the summer barbecue: a perfectly rare rectangle of steak with a dollop of chimichurri, served atop a yellow heirloom tomato and beside a spoonful of charred corn. Could summer last forever? That night, it felt like it.

Aragosta may be a benchmark dining experience on Deer Isle and, indeed, on the Peninsula right now, but it’s hardly the only place to find a memorable meal. In fact, the Blue Hill Peninsula, as a whole, is having a moment, although famed author E.B. White, who lived in Brooklin, Maine, likely could have predicted the area’s trajectory.

The fair, at which Templeton the Rat of “Charlotte’s Web” fame enjoys the delectable discards of so many human passersby, takes place every Labor Day Weekend right in Blue Hill, and it was a de rigueur part of our visit to the area.

Those visiting in the fall may miss the fair, but they need not miss the 47-year-old Blue Hill Farmers Market, which takes place every Saturday through October, and where children receive five free tickets – each equivalent to $1 – for use on fruits and vegetables. (You don’t have to live in the area for this discount.) My own children chose stunning heirloom tomatoes and ate them as we shopped. Each week, rotating musicians and food trucks appear. During our visit, Wild Blueberry Hill Farm & Catering’s truck offered wild blueberry pies, beef potstickers, pork dumplings, dan dan noodles, chao so, and steamed pork buns for sale.

At the Blue Hill Wine Shop, just a few minutes down the road from the fairgrounds, we found a thoughtfully curated cheese selection, and bought just enough Dutch sheep’s-milk gouda and French triple-crème delice to curb our remaining hunger. The store also sells cured meats, olives, pâtés, and thousands of beers and wines, as well as bread from cultish Brooksville bakery Tinder Hearth, where sourdough and pizza is all the rage (reservations are absolutely required).

In the battle of the pizzas, though, who wins? At Fin & Fern, in Stonington, a beautiful and largely seasonal enclave next to Deer Isle, the 12-inch pizzas are ever-popular. Those who cannot get reservations at the petite restaurant can order the six different types of pies to-go instead. (Worth noting, I also found a superlative lobster roll in Stonington at the Stonington Ice Cream Company for just $25.)

Stonington is also home to 44 North Coffee (another outpost with more limited hours is open on Deer Isle), which sells premium coffee, baked goods from Stonington Baking Company, and, yes, bread from Tinder Hearth – before it sells out. At 9 a.m. on a Sunday, a line had already formed onto the narrow sidewalk, but my committed husband waited for his coffee, all of which is roasted on Deer Isle. It was, he pronounced, worth the wait, and my kids and I were happy to walk just down the street to Stonington’s miniature village, a replica of the town built beneath shady trees.

Later, swinging through Sedgwick, we happened upon the Makers’ Market, an unconventional destination for those in search of something delicious to eat. In truth, I had gone in to look for something else – something to take home as a reminder of where I was. And I found that there, too: a peridot necklace, my birthstone, a perfect keepsake from the weekend. But the Market has a room dedicated to food made by Maine locals, including burritos from El El Frijoles, just next door; wood-fired pizzas from Abraham’s Goat Farm & Creamery; and Pugnuts gelato.

On our final night, we drove back into Blue Hill, to the Barncastle Hotel + Restaurant, a five-guest room and one-suite property built in 1884 that has recently been purchased by Lizzie Szczepaniak and Owen Royce-Nagel. The couple brings experience from some of the country’s most established restaurant groups (Royce-Nagel spent time working for Boston’s Jamie Bissonette and both Royce-Nagel and Szczepaniak worked under Chicago’s Paul Kahan, among others).

The recently reconfigured menu offers standouts like bone marrow with lardons of beef tongue and tears of fried Tinder Hearth bread; chicken liver mousse under a layer of riesling gelée; and pillowy dumplings that tread the line between bao and gnocchi, in a sherry ponzu garnished with spiced peanuts and crispy ginger.

I imagined coming back to Barncastle on a blustery, cool evening, historic fireplaces optimistically ablaze (“We are hoping to get some of them up-and-running before the winter season hits,” Szczepaniak says of the hotel’s set pieces), fog finally settled on the peninsula. Far from the middle of nowhere, this slice of Maine is somewhere – and somewhere worth driving to on an empty stomach.

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