Nestled into a basement off of Market Street in Portland, Maine is a bar called Maps. If you didn’t know it was there, well in all likelihood, you simply wouldn’t know that it was there.
It’s the bar where I had my first glass of Substance, where I discovered that beer. It is small, it reminds me of “home.” It is perhaps my favorite bar in Portland.
You come off of the street and pop down a half flight of stairs. You walk into the warm space and feel like you’re in you best bud’s basement. As you order a beer from the extremely well-curated 8-tap lineup, you notice that they’re spinning some dope tunes on vinyl. There are maybe 20 people there, altogether, but it feels like it’s packed full.
As you sip your beer, you start to look around and you notice the, well, weird shit on the walls. An old Austrian-looking cuckoo clock. Anatomical, phrenological charts. And of course, a whole lot of maps.
It’s an interesting and eclectic group of people, too—some folks there for the beer, some folks there for the ambiance, others there for the grilled cheese and home-made cake (yup, cake). Me? I’m there for it all.