New England is not all clam chowda and lobsta rolls. It’s a lot of that, granted, but not all. The region’s real food identity is built on traditions that rarely leave its borders and often come in cans, paper cups, or stuffed into clam shells.
If you’ve never lived in a zip code that ends in 03-whatever, chances are you’ve never heard of half of these 19 foods.
If you stroll into a Boston ice cream stand and ask for “chocolate sprinkles,” be prepared for a raised eyebrow. The term is jimmies, thank you very much, and it’s a thing in this region. In New England, kids are raised knowing that jimmies go on cones, not on cupcakes, and certainly not in rainbow form — only chocolate.
There are a couple of origin stories attached to the chocolate sprinkles and why they’re called jimmies in the region, but none of them have been confirmed. There was also a big debate based on a rumor that the name might have originated from Jim Crow, so some might argue that it’s racist to order jimmies. Nevertheless, that myth was debunked, so it’s most likely that jimmies’ origin is more innocent.
If you grew up in New England and your school cafeteria didn’t serve American Chop Suey at least once a week, were you even there? The dish, which is a regional staple, is made of elbow macaroni, ground beef, sautéed onions, green peppers, and tomato sauce, all tossed together in a skillet. It's basically "goulash" or "Johnny Marzetti" in different parts of the country, but in New England, it's unequivocally American Chop Suey.
The earliest printed recipe resembling American Chop Suey appeared in a Boston newspaper in 1916 American Chop Suey has virtually nothing to do with the original Chinese dish, which term comes from the Cantonese “jaahp seui,” meaning “mixed scraps” or literally “odds and ends,” and is a stir-fry of leftover vegetables and meats. The New England version is a mishmash — just one that ditched the wok for a skillet and took a hard left into pasta-land.
New Englanders say: take your jelly and keep it out of our peanut butter sandwich — just give us the Marshmallow Fluff for a good ol' Fluffernutter. It’s peanut butter and Marshmallow Fluff on white bread, and yes — people take it seriously.
Marshmallow Fluff was born in Somerville, Massachusetts, in the early 1900s, thanks to a guy named Archibald Query who sold it door-to-door. Eventually, his recipe ended up with Durkee-Mower, the company still making Fluff today. The sandwich itself dates back to WWI, but the name “Fluffernutter” didn’t show up until 1960, when an ad agency coined it for marketing.
Every October 8, Somerville throws a whole festival called What the Fluff? to celebrate National Fluffernutter Day, and that's how big the sandwich is over there.
In New England, it's officially spring when you can eat fiddleheads. What are fiddleheads you ask? Well that will be tightly coiled baby ferns that look like nature tried to invent a green cinnamon roll and gave up halfway.
They're usually harvested in late April to early June and locals love them for the crunch and nutty-asparagus-green bean flavor. Word of caution though, you must cook them — and never eat them raw.
First of all, there’s no pie in sight. They’re not pies. They’re two soft chocolate cakes smashed around a thick layer of cream — usually the sweet, white, frosting kind. It’s more of a cake sandwich.
Maine calls it their official state treat, and people there take it seriously. Massachusetts also claims it as its own, as does Pennsylvania’s Amish. Either way, it’s been around since the early 1900s and still shows up at bake sales, gas stations, and anywhere people pretend this counts as a single portion.
Despite the name, there’s no seafood involved. The Red Snapper is Maine's fire-engine-red beef-and-pork hot dog in a natural casing that snaps when you bite it. These fluorescent dogs have been around since the 1940s, thanks to W.A. Bean & Sons, a Bangor-based meat company that started as a small slaughterhouse in 1860.
They're typically served in New England–style split-top buns with classic condiments like mustard and relish.
W.A. Bean & Sons still makes them the old-school way, and you can even order them online if you’re not lucky enough to be local.
Brown bread in a can is a dense, molasses-heavy loaf made with cornmeal, rye, and whole wheat flour. It’s steamed, not baked, which explains the sticky texture and why it slides out of the can like something out of a survival movie.
This stuff goes way back. People were steaming bread like this in colonial times when ovens weren’t exactly standard kitchen gear. In the late 1920s,B&M (Burnham & Morrill) in Portland, Maine, started mass-producing this old-school staple in cans to go alongside their baked beans. Usually, it’s sliced and served with baked beans and hot dogs. Sometimes there are raisins, which is a choice.
Needhams are Maine’s chocolate-covered coconut squares — seemingly nothing out of the ordinary. Until you realize they also have a secret ingredient you don’t usually see in confections: mashed potatoes.
The candy was invented in the 1870s by a candy maker in Auburn, Maine, who had the bright idea to mix leftover mashed potatoes into coconut candy, then dip it in chocolate.
The mashed potato is there to hold the coconut and sugar together and to balance out the sweetness. He named it after a popular preacher of the time, George C. Needham — because apparently, nothing says “sweet treat” like a sermon.
Coffee milk is exactly what it sounds like: milk mixed with coffee syrup. Not espresso, not cold brew — syrup. It’s like the adult version of chocolate milk, just coffee-flavored.
Italian immigrants in Rhode Island started the trend in the early 1900s, mixing sweetened coffee with milk for a cheap drink. By the 1930s, local companies like Autocrat and Eclipse were bottling the syrup. In 1993, Rhode Island made it the official state drink, because of course it did.
Again, not a pie. Seriously, this pie but not a pie thing is happening a lot in New England.
Boston Cream Pie is actually a cake — two layers of sponge filled with pastry cream and topped with a shiny chocolate glaze. It was invented at the Parker House Hotel in Boston in the 1850s, back when cake and pie pans were kind of interchangeable and naming conventions were apparently vibes-based.
Still, it stuck. In 1996, Massachusetts made it the official state dessert, because even if it’s mislabeled, it’s still pretty great.
Cider donuts are a fall staple across New England. They’re fried, cakey, and made with actual apple cider in the batter. Cinnamon sugar on the outside, dense and spiced on the inside.
These boozed-up donuts started showing up in the 1950s, when cider mills began selling them as a seasonal add-on. Now they’re expected. You see cider, you ask about the donuts. That’s how it works.
Locals will tell you to skip the bagged ones at the grocery store and go for the ones made near a barn.
In most places, a milkshake is a blend of milk, syrup, and ice cream. But in Massachusetts, order a milkshake, and you'll get milk and syrup — no ice cream in sight.
To get the creamy, ice cream-laden treat you're craving, you need to ask for a "frappe" (pronounced "frap," not "frap-pay").
The term "frappe" has French origins, meaning "chilled," and has been used in New England since at least the early 20th century.
Hoodsie Cups are a New England classic: half chocolate, half vanilla ice cream in a small paper cup, eaten with a flat wooden spoon that’s somehow always too small.
They’ve been around since 1947, made by HP Hood in Massachusetts, and are still a staple at birthday parties, school events, and sports games.
Stuffies are oversized baked quahog shells filled with chopped clam, breadcrumbs, herbs, and often a bit of chouriço for extra flavor. They’re salty, dense, and usually served with a lemon wedge — and maybe hot sauce if you're doing it right.
The dish comes from Rhode Island’s Portuguese and Italian communities in the early 1900s. Now it’s a staple at clam shacks, cookouts, and anywhere the ocean’s nearby.
Steamers are soft-shell clams that come with a routine.You pull off the thin outer skin from the neck, rinse off the grit in hot clam broth, then dip the whole thing in melted butter. It’s not pretty, but it works.
They’re a summer staple in coastal New England — served by the pound, shells clattering, fingers greasy, and nobody pretending this is fine dining.
Here is yet another food — nay, beverage — that decides the start of a season in New England. Summer in Rhode Island is sponsored by Del’s Lemonade.
It’s a slushy, lemony drink with actual bits of peel floating in it, served in a paper cup with no straw and no instructions.
Del’s was founded in 1948 in Cranston, Rhode Island, using a family recipe brought over from Naples. Today, it’s sold from trucks, roadside stands, and shops across the region.
The original lemon is still the most popular, though the company now offers bottled versions, mixes, and other flavors — including cherry, watermelon, and blood orange.
Made from white cornmeal, hot water, and a pinch of salt, Johnnycakes are Rhode Island’s version of pancakes. These griddled cakes come out crisp on the outside and sturdy enough to hold their own.
In Rhode Island, some make them thin and crisp, especially around Newport, while others prefer them thick and dense, more common in South County. Kenyon’s Grist Mill in Usquepaugh still grinds the corn traditionally and remains the go-to source for making real johnnycakes.
Moxie is New England’s soda (or tonic as locals call it) that tastes like root beer went to pharmacy school and came back with opinions. Invented in 1876 by Dr. Augustin Thompson in Lowell, Massachusetts, Moxie started as a patent medicine called “Moxie Nerve Food.” It was later carbonated and sold as a soft drink, flavored with gentian root extract.
It was once more popular than Coca-Cola and has been the official state soft drink of Maine since 2005. It’s still sold across New England, now under Coca-Cola’s ownership.
New England’s version of comfort food is baked custard with Grape-Nuts cereal mixed in. The cereal sinks to the bottom to form a soft, slightly chewy layer, while the top stays smooth and creamy.
It’s served in diners and home kitchens, usually with a sprinkle of nutmeg
