SOUTH PORTLAND — As shoppers filled their arms at DiPietro’s Market on Thursday morning, one woman nearly walked out empty-handed and visibly disappointed.

“What are you looking for?” owner Sam DiPietro called out, his hands still working the register. “Anything special?”

“Toothpicks,” she said with resignation.

DiPietro shouted into the store: “Toothpicks?”

A voice, DiPietro’s sister, called out from another corner of the building: “Over there!”

Variations of that scene played out a few times Thursday morning, as a steady stream of shoppers descended on the iconic market.

It’s one of the few stores open on Thanksgiving, offering hope to visitors in their desperate search for a last-minute bottle of wine or tube of cranberry sauce. It’s developed a reputation among neighbors for having almost anything one might need for the big meal.

“It’s a fun day. Everybody’s in a good mood, they’re all super thankful,” DiPietro said, stepping away from the counter briefly.

At one point, more than 20 years ago, the shop shuttered for Thanksgiving, but DiPietro said that changed after he and his father — Santo DiPietro, who founded the market more than 50 years ago — stopped by to pick up some drinks on their way to a family meal at his sister’s barn in Washington. DiPietro’s was closed, but that didn’t stop a crowd of hopeful would-be-shoppers.

“People were knocking on the door,” DiPietro recalled. “And I said, ‘I’m not going to the barn next year. I’m just going to open up.'”

Now, he said Thanksgiving is one of the market’s busiest days, bringing a crowd whose size rivals that of a bustling summer afternoon.

Among Thursday’s mob was South Portland resident Miguel Gonzalez, who stopped in about 11 a.m. The 27-year-old said DiPietro’s has “a little bit of everything, and it’s like one of the only places open on Thanksgiving.”

Gonzalez carried a bundle of dessert necessities: heavy cream, condensed milk, eggs and a pair of graham cracker crusts. He moved quickly, eager to return home and check on a cake he had left in the oven.

If a customer needs something that isn’t on the shelf, like a single onion or a pinch of spice, the DiPietros can often find — and package — it in the back.

“I’m always surprised at the things that we can pull out,” he said. “Like cinnamon sticks, just random stuff — ingredients that people are looking for.”

That was good news for South Portland resident Megan Tetrault, who came in shortly before noon scrambling for gravy.

“My nephew totally dropped the ball,” she announced.

Susan DiPietro, Sam DiPietro’s sister, directed her to a box of powdered gravy, high on a corner shelf, but it wasn’t quite what Tetrault had in mind. DiPietro thought for a moment before offering Tetrault some pre-made gravy from the restaurant’s own pantry, pouring dollops of brown from a big can to a take-away container.

Tetreault said that gesture “saved the day.”

Other customers offered similar stories of panic and problem-solving.

Massachusetts resident Katie Jordan, who grew up in South Portland and whose family still lives there, assumed that at least some larger grocery stores would still be open. But Maine law generally prohibits retailers larger than 5,000 square feet from operating on Turkey Day.

She walked out with slabs of Parmesan, goat cheese and a sharp cheddar: building blocks for the cheese board she had been tasked with putting together.

“It was my only responsibility for Thanksgiving, so I had to make sure I didn’t drop the ball,” Jordan said.

At noon, the line stretched to include more than 20 people, coiling past the counter, down an aisle and along the little market’s back wall. Outside, the parking lot was nearly overflowing. A sign overlooking the pavement read “OPEN THANKSGIVING 9-4 GOBBLE GOBBLE.”

In the back, members of the DiPietro family filled the kitchen where workers usually serve up pizzas and subs. Sam DiPietro said they gather there to cook but generally take their turkey to-go.

“We all take a plate and go our separate ways, because we work together all the time,” he said. “We’re leaving at 4 o’clock … that’s like a half-day around here.”

Anthony Salce, Sam DiPietro’s nephew, handled the turkeys — three for about 15 people.

Salce tore skin from breast, creating a space to fill with what he called “an obscene amount of butter.”

“Butter, butter, butter, salt, pepper,” Salce said. “Cook them for around four hours, and baste it every 20 to 30 minutes.”

He shoved the birds into a massive oven, extending his arm until it was shoulder-deep. At 350 degrees, Salce said they would be ready just in time for the market’s 4 p.m. closing.