Rhode Island often gets reduced to a punchline: “the smallest state,” but those who know, know. This New England gem squeezes more shoreline, culture and food into its 1,214 square miles than most places ten times its size. A weekend here feels like a crash course in coastal beauty and culinary obsession, with locals eager to point you toward their favorite chowder shack or bakery that’s been in the family for generations.
A good starting point is Newport, the kind of seaside town that looks like it was sketched from a postcard. Yachts bob in the harbor, sailboats cut across Narragansett Bay and cobblestone streets lead to boutiques and seafood restaurants. The real showstopper is the Cliff Walk, a 3.5-mile path hugging the Atlantic on one side and the Gilded Age’s most outrageous mansions on the other. The Breakers, Marble House, Rosecliff — these aren’t homes so much as monuments to excess. You half expect to see Gatsby himself leaning over a balcony with a champagne flute. After the stroll, grab a lobster roll or a steaming cup of chowder at one of the harbor shacks. Just don’t ask for Manhattan clam chowder; here, there’s only one kind, and it’s creamy and rich.
Drive a half hour down the coast and you’ll land in Narragansett, where the scene is less yacht club, more board shorts. The long, sandy beaches draw surfers chasing waves and families soaking up the sun, all against the soundtrack of gulls and surf. Narragansett Town Beach is the main stage, but smaller coves offer the same beauty without the crowd. Food here is casual but unbeatable: clam cakes, those doughy fritters studded with briny clams, are best eaten hot from the fryer. Pair them with Rhode Island’s clear-broth clam chowder, lighter than the creamy version yet just as satisfying. A tray from Iggy’s Doughboys & Chowder House is practically a rite of passage.
Eventually you’ll want to point the car inland toward Providence and Federal Hill, the city’s Italian neighborhood and arguably the best place in New England to eat. The arch on Atwells Avenue ushers you into a stretch of bakeries, delis and trattorias where the air smells like garlic and fresh bread. Hot wieners (never called hot dogs here) are served “all the way” with mustard, onions, celery salt and a meat sauce locals have sworn by for decades. The wieners are messy, cheap and perfect. Bakeries tempt with trays of sfogliatelle, cannoli, biscotti and zeppole if you’re lucky enough to be around for St. Joseph’s Day (March 19). And then there’s the pizza, a Rhode Island style all its own: thin, saucy, often unapologetically simple and fiercely defended by whichever corner joint you happen to stumble into.
To wash it all down, nothing says Rhode Island like a frosty Del’s Lemonade. The slushy, tart drink has been around since the 1940s, and the green-and-yellow stands are scattered across the state. It’s the perfect palate cleanser before moving on to yet another round of Federal Hill bakery desserts or a deli sandwich that shames your local sub shop.
Between bites, carve out time for a visit to the Rhode Island State House in Providence. Its marble dome rises above the city like a wedding cake topper, and guided tours let you wander through one of the most striking capitols in the country. Even if politics aren’t your thing, the neoclassical grandeur and the view make it worth a detour.
That’s the magic of Rhode Island: You can walk Newport’s Cliff Walk in the morning, surf Narragansett in the afternoon and eat your way through Federal Hill in the evening, all without driving more than an hour. By the time you’re holding a bag of Italian cookies in one hand and a Del’s cup in the other, you’ll realize the secret: The smallest state isn’t small at all when it comes to appetite.
