When my foodie friend Jerry sailed into Fairhaven Harbor last summer, he was in for a pleasant surprise. A short stroll from the water, he came across an unassuming little eatery called Margaret's, a place so oriented to regulars that the door of the address doesn't even indicate the real entrance is around the corner. After a meal that brought a "Thank you, Lord," Jerry ended up staying in port an extra day so he could eat there again and again.

Margaret's is only a half-hour from Providence, so I showed up early enough for a light lunch before meeting Jerry for dinner. I moseyed in, casual-like, not wanting to signal my eagerness and contribute to access being restricted to those who know the daily code word. Non-locals had already discovered the place.

I sat down, glanced around a small room that didn't seem special: four-stool counter, vintage oversized photo of the building, friendly waitresses chatting with customers. A similar-sized room is adjacent. Whole-belly fried clams, a daily special, looked thinly battered and greaseless. The menu had ridiculous prices: lunch-portion entrées only six and seven bucks -- sandwich platter prices.

Saving my appetite, I ordered just a bowl of the soup that, along with clam chowder, is always on the menu. I supposed it could be called a Portuguese kale soup (the menu lists just the ingredients), but that component was so overwhelmed it was virtually a garnish. Cooked to order, the guests of honor in the soup (just $4.95) were five fat grilled scallops and a sizeable length of linguica. The accompanying salt-and-onion-topped bread, dense, chewy, and made next door, was perfect for sopping up the thick, tomatoey seafood broth. It was going to be a long wait till dinner.

Fortunately, Fairhaven is a pretty village and the cobblestone historic district of New Bedford is only a short hop away, so we were sufficiently distracted till Margaret's reopened for dinner at 5. We got there just a few minutes after, and several tables were already taken. The menu entrées had increased from nine to a dozen, and the prices climbed to a still-reasonable $16.95 for grilled tenderloin. No reservations, to make things practical for them; no wine and beer license, to make things even cheaper for us BYOB customers.

There were a dozen salads and pizzas and appetizers. The latter include an interesting variation on calamari, fried with linguica and plum tomatoes ($6.95), in case venturing Rhode Islanders get nostalgic and daring at the same time. Of the three grilled pizzas, a version with mesquite-smoked scallops caught my eye, but I couldn't pass up the one with portobello slices and locally made blue cheese joining the mozzarella and hint of garlic. The plate-size pizzas are $5.95, and I would have gotten my money's worth with this one as described. But in addition to the drizzle of balsamic reduction that made sense with the mushrooms, there was enough pricey white truffle oil to impart its earthy aftertaste. Generously impractical, this kitchen.

Margaret was the name of the dearly departed mother of one of the original owners, who opened this up as a breakfast and lunch place in 1988. Gail and Arnold Isaksen wanted to get more serious about the fare, so in 1999 they hired chef Douglas Buker, and he ended up buying the place two summers ago.

Jerry's oven-roasted scallops, shrimp, and cod dish ($14.95) was marvelous, with its fennel and tomatoes in white wine sauce, again plentiful and inviting the bread. Ironically, I chose the apple wood-smoked pork tenderloin ($11.95) because Jerry had swooned over it the summer before, and it was dry and overcooked. It also didn't have the fennel and copious apples he remembered, although the honey-mustard barbecue sauce was a tangy touch, and the grilled corn relish and flurry of wispy onion rings were nice complements.

Our waitress, Simone -- who'd already gained membership to our life lists of helpful and patient waitstaff -- reported back from chef Buker. Apparently, enough people remain anxious about pink pork that he pre-cooks and then grills it to impart a gray finish. A shame. Especially at a place that strives like this one, we should be offered a choice. (However, the smoked scallops and shrimp with fresh buckwheat pasta [$15.95] that I brought back in response to Johnnie's whimpered request was just fine; Al dente noodles, seafood fresh, and not overcooked. The universe fell back into order.)

And the desserts. Just four ($3.50-$4.95) but each is made there: grilled pound cake with fresh strawberries and an unannounced lagniappe, a dollop of chocolate mousse. Ah, the pistachio cream between three layers of cake.

Margaret, your memory remains unsullied.

Bill Rodriguez can be reached at billrod@reporters.net.

Issue Date: May 24 - 30, 2002