“THIS BUILDING WAS built in the 1900s,” says owner Patrick Hurd, ushering me into 51 Rocky Neck Restaurant, in Gloucester’s Rocky Neck Art Colony. The space, Hurd notes, was purchased in 1920 by Hugh Henry Breckenridge, an American painter who studied under Monet and who founded the Breckenridge School of Art in Gloucester, where he taught summer classes until 1937. Upon purchasing the building, Breckenridge cut through the rafters, had the roof lifted, and installed a massive piece of glass, allowing in the northern light so that his students could paint. “Winslow Homer painted out of this building,” Hurd says. “Monet came to visit this building. So there’s a lot of history in the art world.”
Today, this restored space is a restaurant, seating 200 guests from May through January. Each wall of the space is dedicated to a Rocky Neck artist—painters like Sally Strand, Stephen LaPierre, Stephan Mierz, and Joe’s Fresh Fish Prints. Hurd, who hails from Vermont but has traveled all over the world through his work in the restaurant industry, has capitalized on elements from different beach enclaves in the restaurant’s recent renovation (he purchased the restaurant in 2024). A white marble and wood bar dominates the dining room. Tables face a panel of windows, all of which look out onto Smith Cove. A generous patio—it can seat up to 100—is one of the most desirable places to be on the North Shore in summer.
There is, too, the matter of the menu. Setting aside what is one of the best deals on any wine list that I have seen of late (2013 Dom Perignon, $300, not far off from a retail price—connoisseurs should grab this bottle immediately), the menu, representing different regions of the world, is the star of the show. I sat down with Hurd in late April, before the restaurant’s official seasonal opening, to taste through some of the menu items and additions. Open both for lunch and dinner, the restaurant places a heavy emphasis on fresh seafood, much of which is sourced from local purveyors.
Take, for instance, the Sicilian cod, which appears on both the lunch and dinner menus, and was inspired by a trip Hurd took to Sicily. The seared fillet of fish is served with a concassé of tomatoes, along with onions, capers, fennel, saffron, and lemon, alongside planks of grilled ciabatta. Also made from cod: the Peruvian ceviche, with whole chunks of fish in a leche de tigre, a spicy, citrus-based marinade that partially “cooks” the fish. Under ordinary circumstances, I might not suggest the deviled eggs as an appetizer at a restaurant, but I’ll make an exception here. The deviled eggs “carbonara” at 51 Rocky Neck are served whole rather than split and are topped with crisped guanciale. They have an inimitable texture as a result. Don’t skip them. Also unmissable: the highly addictive smashed harissa cucumber salad, which leans into the North African spice. The edge of the plate, in this case, is spread with Cocojune yogurt, providing a distinct contrast to the nutty, smoky flavor of the vegetable. It works incredibly well.
Mediterranean roasted zucchini is served with mint and garlic–whipped feta and comes topped with pistachios (I’ll confess I had them without, owing to an allergy, but I got the picture; vegetables work well at 51 Rocky Neck, a feat often underserved at restaurants, which treat them like an afterthought). Even after eating through this and more, I noted that there was far more that I hadn’t tried: yellowtail Hamachi, clam gnocchi, a shrimp and scallop pot pie, tuna, chicken, duck, lamb, steak…the list goes on. Which is to say I can think of no appetite that would be unmet by the restaurant’s comprehensive menu.
Or sweet tooth, for that matter. Dessert, for my part, arrived via a combination of Spain and the United States. Hurd recounted a story of visiting the Basque Country, where he was long ago inspired by its thick, burnt-style cheesecake (and bartered a round of hard ciders with the chef and staff in exchange for the recipe). He was equally inspired by his grandmother’s rhubarb sauce, which, he told me, he grew up eating on toast for breakfast before school. The version of dessert I had combined the two: a thick wedge of the cheesecake—burnt on the edges, with intention—alongside a perfect rhubarb accompaniment. I didn’t get the Dom, but it was still an ideal afternoon.