Last Friday, I drove to Portland to have lunch with my friend Kate and to celebrate her upcoming birthday. Because I work at home and because I try to drive as little as possible and thus reduce my carbon footprint, most of my time is spent in Winthrop. Now, Winthrop is a pretty little town with lots of lakes and ponds, and I am perfectly happy to walk and bike and stay close to home most of the time. But it is nice, now and then, to go on an excursion to the big city, especially when it involves meeting a friend and going out to lunch. As my mother would have put it, these little trips “change the mind.”

As luck would have it, the day was sunny and warm, and the ride to Portland was an utter delight. As I drove, I listened to alternative rock on WCLZ, and I felt enveloped by the lush green of June. The lupine, still a deep purple, covered the banks of the highway. Off to the side along one stretch was a farm, complete with pastures and cows, who were doing what cows should be doing—grazing on grass. There were even a few little ones to admire.

My daughter Shannon is also a friend of Kate’s, and as Shannon works in Portland, she was able to join us for lunch. The three of us have established a birthday ritual of meeting in Portland for lunch (the birthday girl gets to choose the place), strolling around the Old Port, and then stopping somewhere for tea so that we can sit and chat some more. We are all in complete agreement: These outings are as much fun for the ones who aren’t having a birthday as they are for the one who is.

This time for her birthday, Kate chose the The Salt Exchange Restaurant on Commercial Street, and I was especially eager to eat there. I had heard good things about this restaurant but had never been there. The same was true for Shannon and Kate.

The Salt Exchange, with its brick walls and high ceilings, manages to feel cozy and airy at the same time. On the walls were paintings by a local artist —unfortunately I didn’t get the name—whose vivid use of color made even a grouping of buoys seem fresh, no small feat in buoy-saturated coastal Maine. Best of all, the tables were not crowded together, which meant there was no hemmed-in feeling, and our conversation was our own.

The menu at the Salt Exchange is small. Nevertheless, it took us a while to make our choices. Everything looked so tempting, but finally we decided on tempura fish and shoestring potatoes (Kate); a Brie sandwich with roasted tomatoes along with a bowl of artichoke soup (Shannon); and barbecue braised duck sliders along with a bowl of artichoke soup (me).

The Salt Exchange bills itself as serving “seasonal small plates,” which means, of course, that the portion sizes aren’t huge. No basins of pasta and no mounded servings of fish and shoestring potatoes that would prove daunting even to “a good eater.” While teenaged boys probably would not be thrilled by the size of the portions, Kate, Shannon, and I thought they were just right. And the food itself was terrific—the fresh rolls, the tang of the barbecue sauce, the moist and tender duck, the mellow artichoke soup, the smooth, purple coleslaw, as mellow as the soup, a chocolate dessert that was a cross between mousse and fudge.

Kate’s fish and shoestring potatoes were, in a word, amazing. Essentially, what she ordered was a fish and chip dish, and I was tempted to do the same. I am a fish and chip fanatic, and I usually have them once a week. (Which is why I decided to branch out to barbecue duck.) What Kate got was unlike any fish and chip dish I have ever seen—light tempura-battered chunks of fish on top of a bird’s nest of potatoes cut impossibly thin. (Who has shoestrings like that?) The dish looked so ethereal that it might have been served to Oberon or Titania or any other of the fairies in their retinue. Kate let me have a bite of the fish, and it tasted as light as it looked.

My one complaint with the Salt Exchange was with our server. While he was friendly and polite, he was so zealous about clearing our plates—even when they still had food on them—that at one point I wanted to slap his hand.

As a foodie and a good eater, I have mixed feelings about Portland. On the one hand, there are so many good places to eat in that small city that I wish I lived closer. (Every place we have chosen for our birthday meals has been smashing.) On the other hand, this would not be good for either the budget or the waistline. Perhaps it’s best that I live in Winthrop and don’t make it to the big city very often. I know I would give in to temptation much too often.

So three times a year, on our birthdays, we go to Portland and splurge. While eating out in Portland more often would be good—I won’t deny this—only going a few times a year makes it all the more special. A real treat.