Archive for November, 2009

My Guiding Star

Perhaps it was that first bite into a peanut butter raw ball — a chunky concoction that tastes like a little, edible orb of childhood. Or, maybe it was the strum of Connor Garvey’s guitar. No, no. It was when the Americano’s steam tickled my nostrils before the sip. Smooth, aromatic, full of rich-roasted bean.

The order counter at North Store Music Cafe

The order counter at North Store Music Cafe

That’s when North Star Music Café captured my heart — and my ongoing business.

It truly is impossible to overstate what a marvelously enveloping environment owners Kim Anderson and Anna Maria Tocci have created on Munjoy Hill. Everything — from the organic mesclun greens in the salads, to the creative daily soups, to the acoustic performers singing onstage – fires on all cylinders.

Sometimes I simply sink into an overstuffed chair cupping that Americano and play a rousing round of Phase 10 with Adam. Other times I cart in my laptop, log onto the free WIFI and spend the entire day working — and working my way through a bagel, then a sandwich, then a glass of wine.

On any given night I know I can stroll in, order a local brew or an herbal tea and sit back for some of the best singer-songwriter’s playing the circuit. I discovered the haunting lyrics of Rebecca Lobie, the powerful pipes of Jenn Grinels and the witty words of John Craigie — all on one November Monday!

Simple and hearty, the menu is more grounded than ground-breaking — but that’s the whole point.  What feels more like home than a heaping bowl of rice and beans topped with avocado, tomato, and Cabot sharp cheddar? Or, a Yellow-Fin tuna salad sandwich with balsamic mayonnaise, tart capers and crisp red onion?

North Star Music Café is a warm welcome disguised as a neighborhood bistro. If you’ve never been, or haven’t been lately, I highly recommend you remedy that.

North Star Music Cafe on Urbanspoon

Farmers Fare in Rockport

A farm-to-table, back-to-the-land mentality is – blessedly – nothing new in Maine. The work and dedication of organizations such as Cultivating Community are deeply rooted here. So I was surprised that I was actually surprised by a beautiful new store, farm, and gathering place that recently sprouted up in Rockport.

Farmers Fare in Rockport - in a photo from the company's website

Farmers Fare in Rockport - in a photo from the company's website

I popped by the 8-week old Farmers Fare during a mid-November mid-coast excursion. Local fruits and vegetables, an authentic butcher and deli (think pheasant sausage and fresh quail eggs), still-warm baked goods and hearty prepared foods – all were housed in a massive structure the size of a New England Barn. Four surrounding acres featured demonstration vegetable gardens, native plants, edible landscaping and open space for public gatherings.

It was Rosemont Market mixed with Turkey Hill Farm — on steroids.

The Farmers Fare website outlines the company’s mission as, “to bring a contemporary interpretation to traditions that have always enriched our lives. We will host Sunday suppers, pig roasts, pumpkin carvings and other fun events. We pledge to provide a welcoming atmosphere, and scrumptious local food and products of highest quality. We will provide rooms for lectures and informal meetings about food, cooking, and growing healthy crops.”

Throw in a clever, colorful marketing campaign (complete with hats, tee-shirts, banners and a painted van), and me thinks the Farmers Fare’s eye-catching approach to revitalizing community and supporting local farmers just may just catch on.

And that’s a wonderful thing.

Cookbook Madness

I’m in love with a cookbook. I keep flipping through it, re-reading recipes, running my hands across the pages and gazing at the gorgeous photos for long, longing moments. “But wait,” you say. “Isn’t that normal for you foodie types?” Well, maybe for others, but not for me.

A section from Mad Hungry by Lucinda Scala Quinn

A section from Mad Hungry by Lucinda Scala Quinn

While I’ve always revered creative food photography, I’ve mostly treated cookbooks — from Julia’s masterpiece to Jamie’s latest — as utilitarian.

But not this one. Perhaps it is special. Perhaps I am mending my ways.

It is Mad Hungry by Lucinda Scala Quinn.

Purchased at Rabelais (of course!) in late October, it has earned an honored spot at my bedside. I’ve scoured through every page – and have yet to cook a thing! It’s more memoir — a love letter to the family meal — than pure cookbook. With the subtitle Feeding Men & Boys – Recipes, Strategies and Survival Techniques, Quinn tosses out advice (never be caught without bacon) and opinion (men love hot sauce) in between more detailed counsel on shopping with children and how to stock a guy-friendly pantry.

I don’t have sons, or even kids, and I’m devouring every word of it.

It probably doesn’t hurt that Jennifer S. Muller, the brilliant designer behind the look of the new Maine Magazine, lent her creative eye to the cleverly structured pages. Simple graphics, spot color and cunning use of pull-out sections make it a joy to peruse.

Each recipe starts with either a family story or a tidy justification for its inclusion. While none are elaborate — they range from “perfect fried egg every time” to “roast leg of lamb with lemon, garlic and oregano” — they all touch on home and hearth.

Quinn’s not shy about sharing her views, “Make boys eat breakfast. Brainwash them; it works. Tell them they’ll be smarter, have fewer zits, anything.”  She somehow manages to scold, cajole and pontificate in a way that is accessible and charming. Her suggestions and theories aren’t groundbreaking, but are presented with humor and intent.

I guarantee, even the most seasoned gourmand will learn a thing or two.

Meal from a Master

First, let me say that Rob Evans deserves all the accolades. My birthday dinner at Hugo’s was nothing short of spectacular. That said, when your restaurant sits perched on a pedestal boasting a shining, gleaming “sterling” reputation – well, the expectations of your guests run high. Very high.

The gateway to a great meal

The gateway to a great meal

My admittedly stratospherically high expectations were almost – just about – very nearly – exceeded. But not quite.

We had, of course, the “works.” Better know as the chef’s six-course nightly tasting menu with wine pairings. Courses three and four – the cod and the duck – were both spot-on, do-a-little-happy-dance-in-delight, successes.

Another stunning dish was the first course of beet-cured salmon belly paired with a fennel and hyssop salad. Got that? Beet. Cured. Salmon. It was inspiring.

Where the meal failed for me was during a strange second course cheekily titled “Deconstructed Chowdah.” Fried bits of clams sat in a bland thyme oil sauce communing with doughy, flavorless potato gnocchi. The wine pairing for this dish, an acidy Saumur from the Loire Valley, was disappointing alone. It truly botched as a pairing – turning flat-out bitter.

Not sure the “deconstructed” trend has legs. Or should.

The cod dish featured succulent, crispy cheeks and a meaty pan-fried belly. But the duck was the night’s winner by a nose. All three preparations were a joy.  A crispy breast nestled on a bed of delicately spiced wheat berries tasted, as Adam put it — his eyes wide — like Fall. A foie gras was melt-in-your-mouth marvelous, and the duck pancetta – perfectly cured with a layer of fatty chewiness – almost defies description.

The fifth (cheese) course was a little lackluster, but dessert was a lovely “crispy cream” of braised pineapple, peppers and coconut milk.

Overall – a truly memorable meal.

Hugo's on Urbanspoon

Friday Night Slice

What was First Friday like before Otto Pizza? I shudder to think. Queuing up for a slice (or two, or three) is integral to Portland’s monthly art walk for me.

Otto Pizza is a First Friday Art Walk must

Otto Pizza is a First Friday Art Walk must

It goes like this: Leave the office at 5 pm. Stroll through Whitney Art Works and MECA. Check out what’s at Space. Pop into Otto and grab a slice. Devour it while ambling over to Portland Museum of Art. Peruse the first-floor special exhibit. Stop for a martini at Norm’s. Continue on to a few West End galleries. Settle in for a beer at Blue and listen to some music. Pop into Otto again (they are open until 2 am!) for another slice (or two). Go home.

I’m tellin’ ya, it is the perfect Friday evening. And the visits to Otto are a critical part.

I love standing in the tiny alcove of a pizzeria, enveloped by the smell of baking dough, and peering over Adam’s shoulder at the pie options displayed in an orderly row. The four nightly choices are always yummy and interesting –  sweet Italian sausage with roasted red pepper; spinach, feta, plum tomato and Genoa salami;  mushrooms, caramelized onions and fontina cheese;  sliced potatoes with scallions, bacon and fresh herbs.

I could go on.

Thin with a crispy crust and oily overtones (in the good, NYC-style way), Otto’s pies are just what Portland needed on Congress street in the heart of the Arts District. Give my itinerary a try next month. Or, comment back with your own First Friday food agenda (or Otto Pizza story)!

Otto's Pizza on Urbanspoon

Hake at Home

I’ve avoided writing about our at-home cooking because this blog really isn’t about that. But, when you live with such a wonderful cook and have such great ingredients from local purveyors, it certainly deserves mention once in awhile. Adam picked up some fresh catch from Harbor Fish Market and made one of my favorites last night – Proscuitto-Wrapped Hake.

Adam's half-eaten proscuitto-wrapped hake

Adam's half-eaten proscuitto-wrapped hake

I’m more of a recipe-following type. Adam is the true kitchen creative. I mostly act as his sous chef and have evolved into a celebrated salad maker among my peeps. My killer homemade dressings are the key (if I like you I may tell you about my recently created whiskey/olive/mustard vinaigrette).

Adam knocks around the kitchen making a mess and stewing up great scents. He tends to braise most meats and then finish them in the oven in a fragrant sauce. He’s a master of sauces.

Last night’s fish started (as most great dishes do) with shallots and garlic in butter.

  1. Once the shallots become translucent, simmer with white wine and chicken stock.
  2. Add some tomato paste and chopped kalamatas to taste.
  3. Wrap the hake in proscuitto (keep the slices thin).
  4. Plop the fish into the pan and cover with thin-sliced fresh tomatoes and lemon.
  5. Salt and pepper over the top and throw in the oven for 15-20 minutes at 400 degrees.
  6. Make sure the proscuitto is getting crispy on the edges before you pull it out.

Serve with a spinach salad and glass of Pinot Noir or lemon-infused vodka.

Taste of Honey

I didn’t expect to like it. I really despise sweet wines, and the meads I’ve sipped in the past have failed (miserably) to impress. Grain alcohol mixed with honey was the usual sensation. But, Eli, Ben and the crew at Maine Mead Works are doing something different, better – right. And, much to my surprise, I’ve become a big fan.

Maine Mead Works co-owner, Ben Alexander, describes the fermentation process

Maine Mead Works co-owner, Ben Alexander, describes the fermentation process

The secret to great mead is the continuous fermentation process and the guys at Maine Mead Works have it nailed. They use a proprietary yeast strain to ferment the honey in what look like large test tubes bubbling with golden liquid. After bulk aging, the mead is hand bottled, labeled and stored a few more weeks before leaving the company’s tiny Anderson Street factory.

Granted, it is the Dry that has evolved into my go-to mead. Done right, dry mead hits the nose full of sweetness and light – displaying floral notes of the wildflowers blooming when the honey was in season. On the palate, it smooths out into a subtle, smoky earthiness.

Dry mead pairs wonderfully with spicy foods and (great for Maine) lobster. But, I have to admit that I also have enjoyed the Blueberry on occasion, and I’m not-so patiently awaiting the pre-Thanksgiving release of the Cranberry.

However, it is the limited-release Dry aged in a bourbon cask that I’m REALLY anxiously anticipating. Eli let that nugget slip on my most recent factory visit and I’ve been checking my email for the heads-up ever since.

I plan to run-not-walk to the warehouse-only sale of this special edition.