3 Buoys Seafood Shanty & Grille

I walk by 3 Buoys Seafood Shanty & Grille every day of my life. The restaurant sits directly across the street from what may be the sketchiest 7-11 in town (this is highly debatable) and is housed within a structure that last served as a conduit for spicy chicken via Buffalo Wings n' Things. It is with a heavy heart that I say I have avoided 3 Buoys like the plague up until recently. Blame it on preconceived notions, a healthy fear of food poisoning or sheer disinterest — it just hasn't been on my radar.

I may as well get right down to the point here and say that without the pressure of Haddockquest, I may very well have overlooked this not-so-hidden gem of a fried fish spot.

3 Buoys' fried haddock sandwich costs $10.99 and is served with fries and coleslaw. At face value, it'd be easy to dismiss this as being overpriced, especially considering the location and overall look/feel of the place (though it does grow on you more with each gulp of Narragansett Lager). Haddockquest knows no financial boundaries, however, so we pressed on and placed an order, which turned out to be one of the best decisions I've ever made.

There's no word to describe 3 Buoys' haddock sandwich better than "benchmark." Served with lettuce, tomato, tartar & lemon on a traditional (re: flimsy, but whatever) bun, this colossal beast is topped off with three heaping fillets of absolutely perfect, "golden delicious" fried fish. The coleslaw (not pictured) was nothing to write home about to be honest, although the hand-cut fries more than made up for this first-world problem, bursting with flavor and doing that "I'm-gonna-burn-the-shit-out-of-the-roof-of-your-mouth-and-demolish-your-taste-buds" thing that all good fries must do.

What truly sets this sandwich apart from the competition is its portion size. We're basically talking three haddock sandwiches in one here, which made me feel like a complete asshole for doubting the relatively high (for fried fish) price-tag. The guy at the counter (who was an absolute riot of a character and fun to complain about the current boat prices of lobster with) wasn't kidding around when he gave us his word that we wouldn't walk out hungry. Still, we ordered fried clams and a lobster roll to round things off, because this is America. Both were delicious and worth a repeat visit.

I have to say, I didn't walk into 3 Buoys expecting to enjoy anything about the experience, yet the place nailed everything from start to finish. It's far too early in the Haddockquest timeline to declare this the best fried haddock sandwich on the peninsula, but it sets a high bar right out of the gate. 

The Verdict — Dinosaur-sized portions of glistening, golden fried fish. Worth its weight in gold. (★★★★½)

Next week, we'll take to the streets and check out the fried haddock sandwich at Small Axe Food Truck. 

Gilbert's Chowder House

Let me start out by saying that, for whatever reason, Gilbert's Chowder House seemed like the right venue to kick this whole thing off ever since I first came up with the idea. This isn't to say that I'm in love with the place at all. Before the other day, I hadn't stepped through their doors in probably 5+ years, so take that as you may. Still, it's tough to beat the location, and the look/feel of Gilbert's practically screams "haddock sandwich."

The fried haddock sandwich at Gilbert's is $8.95 and is served with potato chips/pickle. I'm going to clarify something right off the bat and say that I absolutely despise potato chips. I never, ever want to eat them. If I get home from a night out and they're the only thing in the house, I'm going to bed hungry. This being said, I'm not of the persuasion to spend $3.25 on an order of frozen french fries, and substitutions go against Haddockquest guidelines. I also hate shitty pickles, but that's another story. 

Note that Gilbert's serves their haddock sandwich "w/cheese," which is a big turnoff for some people. Cheese and fish may be a nauseating combination in most cases, but this fish is fried. If you're going for the gold, you might as well go for the glory at the same time. Personally, I'm into it on some occasions, but sometimes it really just doesn't need to happen. 

Onto the main attraction. Aside from the aforementioned cheese-food (processed American, of course), Gilbert's haddock sandwich comes topped with lettuce and tomato and is served on a slightly-grilled bun alongside the typical squirt bottle filled with yellowing tartar sauce (not pictured). It's about as standard as they come, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. If you're going classic, though, you've got to do it right.

I hate to start things off on a sour note, but Gilbert's does not do it right. The slight char on the bun was too slight, rendering it not much better than its lifeless, prepackaged self. Both the lettuce and tomatoes had seen better days, with the former being wilted and the latter as mealy as I've seen in quite a while. Add the salty-as-hell-yet-somehow-bland "cheese" to the party, and this boat is leaking beyond repair. 

So how was the fish? Not terrible. Crisp, light batter is a must here, and Gilby's made it happen. The haddock had a nice flakiness to it, too, not unlike that "good friend" who always bails at the last minute to stay home and watch cat videos on the Internet because it's raining out. The only reason none of this served as a true saving grace for this sandwich was the portion size of the fish itself. On a fried haddock sandwich this traditional, I want so much fish that I'm reluctantly finishing it and dreading the rest of the evening. This was more of a guppy than a marlin, which made me sad.

All in all, I'm glad I stopped in to give Gilbert's another chance so many years since my last visit, if only to get a sense for what things are like over there these days. As far as haddock sandwiches go, however, I'm quite convinced there are much better options on the peninsula, and I intend to prove it. 

The Verdict — Decent fish, but far from being a memorable fried haddock sandwich. (★★½)

Next week, we'll hopefully take things up a notch (or not, who knows?) with a stop at 3 Buoys Seafood Shanty & Grille. 

It Begins

Haddockquest is a project with an end goal of finding the best fried haddock sandwich on the peninsula of Portland, ME. Rather than attempt a boring/self-serving manifesto, allow me to provide a FAQ to answer any questions you, dear reader, may have.

What are the "rules" of Haddockquest?

While Haddockquest is not to be viewed as an on-rails experience, there will be a handful of guidelines set in place to ensure consistency. They are as follows —

• Fish must be haddock; not cod, pollock or other, similar whitefish often used in such preparations. 
• Fish must be fried; not blackened, baked or otherwise.
• Fish must be sandwiched between two pieces of bread. "Wraps" and "roll-ups" suffer automatic disqualification. 
• Sandwich must be ordered straight off the menu and exactly as advertised. Augmentations will not be tolerated. 
• Sandwich must be located on the peninsula.

Is Haddockquest a restaurant review blog? 

No. Haddockquest is a blog devoted to reviewing haddock sandwiches and — on occasion — their associated sides. Each entry will begin with a quick overview of the restaurant in question, but that'll be the extent of it. If you're looking for negative write-ups bashing decor, service and menu design, you're in the wrong place. I don't care if the venue is characterized by fluorescent lighting and a questionable approach to sanitation; all that matters is they have a great haddock sandwich.

What can I expect to see on Haddockquest?

Each week will bring a different review of specific haddock sandwiches found on the peninsula. There will be photos, detailed descriptions and a five-star ratings system for folks who crave tangibility.

Are you an authority on haddock sandwiches?

No, I just really enjoy eating them.

Why are you doing this? 

Quite frankly, I thought it'd be fun. Hopefully you agree.

Am I encouraged to join in on the adventure?

You sure are.

So that's the long and short of it. In our first real post, we'll kick things off with a stop at Gilbert's Chowder House.