Dining Review: Scales and Shells in Newport

Roberto littlenecks in a spicy housemade marinara. Photography by Angel Tucker

Newport is a tale of two cities: one constructed in the Gilded Age, lush with grandeur and built from stone. It’s a temporary enclave, an escape from the twenty-first century that’s rich with historic dreams and sweeping views of the ocean. Most of this rarified world is encapsulated in a few ornate hotels and the elm-lined parade of Bellevue Avenue mansions. 

But Newport is also a beach town, full of eager families crisped from the sun and looking for a chill spot to rehydrate. It’s this slice of the city that Scales & Shells serves — those looking to eat dinner in casual tees rather than a tux.

Shrimp piccata with linguine; Photography by Angel Tucker

Scales & Shells was purchased last year by the Peregrine Group, but the daughter and son-in-law of its original owners, Amanda and Kevin McDonough, stayed on board with the entire team to guide daily operations. The restaurant was originally conceived after a stint in the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy, though if there’s an obvious link between the two, it’s that both are bordered by water and defer to the halcyon spirit of the beach. 

That familiarity — more than thirty-six years later — is responsible for the restaurant’s success, evident by the regular crowd that forms a line outside before five o’clock to ensure a seat at this no-reservations space. Year-round residents have ample access to seafood in Newport, but like everyone in the midst of the daily grind, they’re keen to find a hangout that doesn’t fall prey to pretense. 

The building itself is fronted by windows which face the city — fitting in that the interior is a small metropolis all its own. There are three dining rooms, holding a total of more than 200 people between the Oyster Room and UpScales, as well as a seasonal Sidewalk Cafe. It’s a subtle interior, accented in aquatic blues and pops of persimmon with vintage photos along the perimeter, leaving the streaming sunshine to round out the aesthetic. 

Upstairs (known as UpScales) has its own menu, which veers more toward Italian grazing than a formal dinner. Tinned fish boards, fried gnocchi and cod croquettes with bacon pair up with grilled pizza and butter-napped ravioli, all of which lean toward a trattoria. Each dining room has its own bar and, if there’s a surprise here, it’s that the small bars feel peripheral to the dining experience. It’s an unusual design on Thames Street, where most restaurants emanate from a central bar, declaring proudly that a cocktail is the cornerstone of any meal.

That’s not to say that Scales & Shells doesn’t value a stiff drink; long past summer, the vacation vibe dominates as spiked Arnold Palmers have no off-season in Newport. In fact, it’s well into the colder months when the restaurant has the most impact, manifesting the singular flavor of a New England August: fried fish with a cold drink and a carefree attitude. 

Photography by Angel Tucker

Scales and Shells interior.

While UpScales dabbles in shared signature items like ceviche, tartare, lobster ravioli and arancini, most appetizers downstairs pass through the deep-fryer in a determined effort to bring back beach time. Crispy tuna rolls ($15.50) resemble spring rolls, but the crispy wrappers hold little more than a pristine, rare slab of tuna. Punctuated by a ginger-spiked soy vinaigrette, it’s the most modern take on seaside food and the dish most likely to make you think you should have ordered two.

Broiled scallops. Photography by Angel Tucker

It’s the batter-heavy sword fingers ($14.50) and reconstructed fried oysters, served in their shells over a dollop of roasted red pepper mayo ($17.50), however, that play a mind game with palates preparing for winter. Relentlessly crunchy on the exterior and delicately textured on the interior, both are examples of why anyone started frying fish hundreds of years ago. It’s a contrast that never grows old and one riddled with nostalgia regardless of geography. There are also skillets full of housemade potato chips dotted with Gorgonzola ($16) but, if you’re giving into a fully fried meal, it’s the seafood that prevails.

The go-for-it mindset is evident at brunch as well, where indulgence commands the day. The crowd may be dressed in cotton sweaters or novelty-shop sweatshirts, but this four-hour weekend block plays out like spring break on Miami Beach. Fried shrimp pops arrive on a stick ($16), fried oysters are piled high, po’boy style ($19), and egg sandwiches are layered with seared crabcakes ($20). The only things more dramatic are the bloody marys, which arrive topped with a frothy pyramid of celery foam.

Crispy tuna. Photography by Angel Tucker

In the evenings, however, things tend to float down from that fevered pitch. Entrees are far less evocative of a childhood-by-the-boardwalk and more rooted in Italian influence. Scallops, shrimp, calamari or even monkfish might be tossed with linguini and served with housemade piccata, Marsala or scampi-style sauces ($29.75-$39.75). It’s the kitchen’s middle ground and the space that fully embodies Rhode Island roots — a marriage of coastal cuisine and the Italian heritage that pervades the state’s culinary identity. There are more streamlined options — grilled and broiled aquatic steaks and filets of fresh fish with a panoply of seasonal add-ons: salsas, butters and relishes — though they tend to exist on their own, without the pull of evocation. Throw in a side of corn on the cob, french fries or seasonal grilled vegetables, however, and it pivots back to ritual. 

For dessert, a housemade tiramisu will bring you back to Italy quick enough. Baba au rhum and baba au limoncello are small sponge cakes soaked in liquor; the latter is accented by limoncello that’s made in house. The retro pair, served with towers of whipped cream, feel slightly at odds with platters of seafood but, as of yet, the kitchen continues to focus on the grill and not on building a pastry corner. There’s also locally made gelato and sorbet. 

Restaurants are always faced with the challenge of choosing the world as it is or the world as it might be and, in choosing the former, Scales & Shells makes a stand for a summer meal that needn’t evolve because it was always — cocktail in hand, grilled fish resting in butter, the warmth of the sun —exactly as it should be.

Scales and Shells exterior. Photography by Angel Tucker

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Scales & Shells

527 Thames St., Newport, 846–3474, scalesandshells.com 

Open for dinner six days (closed on Tuesdays, off-season); brunch on Saturday and Sunday. 

Wheelchair-accessible. Street parking. 

CUISINE: New England seafood. 

CAPACITY: 200-plus. 

VIBE: A cozy respite long after beach season ends. 

PRICES: Appetizers: $14–$24; entrees: $28.75–$46.75. 

KAREN’S PICKS: Raw bar; fried fish in all its forms; grilled seafood steaks.