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Fall into Winter Favorites

Oct 20

Posted by dawn in Fine Dining, Informal Dining, Outside Portland | No Comments

As the temps drop my focus shifts to comfort food. The stewed and brothy. The ample and starchy. The earthy and rich. I scan menus for things I’d never consider in warmer weather. Cheesy noodles. Heavy sauces.

The Remedy. A wonderful cocktail at Kennebunk's 50 Local

I know, I know – I’m hardly alone in this. And, of course, restaurants embrace the season and showcase their heartier options. Never-the-less I humbly offer a little list of my four latest “fall into winter” favorites – two from here in Portland and two along coastal Maine.

And nary a one has meat!

Mushroom Tagliatelle
50 Local – Kennebunk
I’ve rarely tasted a better mushroom dish. Apparently, foraging fungi is a favorite pastime of chef David Ross and his 3-year-old son. It shows. Pungent earthy flavor and overtones of roasted garlic infuse every mouthful. Homemade tagliatelle pasta fresh and springy. Pecorino cheese adds a bonding creaminess.  While the mushrooms surely vary according to discovery, an online video of Ross shows him preparing the dish with black trumpets, hedgehog mushrooms, lobster mushrooms and chanterelles. Whatever the mixture, it’s truly marvelous. Dip in the restaurant’s thick and spongy focaccia bread and sip on a signature cocktail. It’s a cold weather meal to savor.

And, about that cocktail? If you’re like me and enjoy caramely liquors in the autumn and winter, don’t miss The Remedy – bourbon, cayenne simple syrup, lemon, and a gingered rim (see pic).

Ribollita
Ribollita – Portland
Okay, yes, this is their signature dish – available year round – but I only crave the hearty potage as late October arrives. Tuscany’s famous vegetable and bread soup is simmered to perfection at this Portland institution and warms me to my toes. As with everything that has peasant origins, the “from the earth” ingredients and basic presentation make Ribollita the ultimate comfort food. Pair it with the restaurant’s sizable Hearts of Romaine salad and a glass of Italian wine and you’ve got an affordable meal for around $20.


Shulte & Herr's spaetzle


Squash & Pesto Lasagna
Chase’s Daily – Belfast
We journeyed to the Midcoast for last Saturday’s Marshal Wharf Beer and Mussel Fest (totally worth the hangover) and – despite a swath of reserved tables – lucked into seats at Chase’s counter the night before. An acclaimed vegetarian breakfast and lunch destination, Chase’s only serves dinner on Friday’s. I’m hearby advising you to make reservations, stay the night and avail yourself of this lasagna. I’ve never, EVER raved about lasagna before. In fact, I didn’t even order it this time. I ate over half of Adam’s and have dreamed about the dish ever since. Layers of thin and crisped wide noodles housed “fresh from the farm” golden squash, spinach, cheese and a light pesto. Seemingly so simple, but stunning. A side of crispy kale also was spot on. On second thought, skip the reservation and sit at the counter. Soak in Chase’s “boho” vibe and enjoy the view of the kitchen.

Spaetzle
Schulte & Herr – Portland
I’ve loved every morsel I’ve eaten at this new German gem, but the Spaetzle takes the prize for “things I really want when it’s cold and rainy.”  The pile of swirly egg noodles topped with chives may not look like much (see pic), but it’s a filling feast that will pleasantly expand your stomach and make you crave a nap.  Carmelized onions and ementhal cheese (a type of Swiss) shift Schulte & Herr’s version to the sweet side, so I advise balancing with the crisp cucumber salad doused with dill.

Blogger’s Note: Check out Kate’s list of Fall & Winter drinks at The Blueberry Files.

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A Delightful Bistro

Jul 12

Posted by dawn in Dining Events, Fine Dining, Informal Dining | 2 Comments

While Petite Jacqueline doesn’t offer the most mind-blowing French food on the planet – I adore the place none-the-less.

The wide from window of Petite Jacqueline

Granted, it’s no Au Pied du Cochon (Montreal) or Au Vieux Comptior (Paris) – two places embroiled in my brain and heart (not to mention my thighs) for all-time top French dishes (guinea hen liver mousse and sweet breads with morels, asparagus and a river of cream – respectively).

But, I’m just delighted to have a solid French bistro in Portland. One that makes a tasty Nicoise Salad, an appealing Steak Frites and a lovely Fluke Meuniere.

Consistently. In authentic style. Wrapped in a bright, boisterous package that transports you straight to Boulevard Saint-Germain.

It also doesn’t hurt that the bubbly, dimpled Gwendolyn – who always seems to get stuck with us – is one of the most enthusiastic and appealing servers in town.

And – this is vital to my post-vacation budget – the house red is surprisingly stellar and comes in a huge carafe. A pinot noir-syrah blend, it’s a steal for $20.

Nicoise Salad: A sizable Nicoise approaches “Parisian” with chunks of tuna, bright, al dente haricot vert, slighly runny hard-boiled eggs, nicoise olives and fingerlings. See if you can pick out which salad photo (below) is from Petite Jacqueline – and which is from a café in Montmarte. (Okay – the anchovies probably give this away. That’s one key component PJ needs to improve upon).

Steak Frites: I recommend you order this richly marinated flat iron steak rare or on the “rare side” of medium rare. To cook it longer defeats the dish and toughens the meat to (from a French – and my – perspective) a perverse level of doneness. Seriously. Hand cut fries come skinny, crackling and drizzled with mayo and a dash of parsley. Expertly fried and made from what I presume to be local Maine potatoes, they offer not just crunch but complex flavor. Marvelous.

Fluke Meuniere: Pan seared with capers and loads of butter, this local fish gets a light flour coating before its crisped to a perfect golden brown and draped over spinach. Delicate simplicity on a plate.

Timely note: In honor of Bastille Day, this Thursday, July 14, Petite Jacqueline is offering a traditional celebratory meal – a three-course dinner with wine pairings for $50. Check out the menu.

Which Nicoise is Petite Jacqueline's?

Petite Jacqueline on Urbanspoon

Filling up at Fuel

Mar 10

Posted by dawn in Fine Dining, Outside Portland | No Comments

Honoring the fact that this is Maine Restaurant Week (and not simply Portland Restaurant Week), Kate of The Blueberry Files and I decided to drag the men out of town and fill up at Fuel.

Adam's stellar Nicoise Salad at Fuel in Lewisto

Intrigued by the Lewiston restaurant’s reputation – not to mention its mouth-watering $30 special menu previewed on the MRW website – our hopes and expectations were high.

Were they met? Well, yes. . . and no. It was a night of highs and lows.

Adam loved his Nicoise Salad. Our shared Duck Rilettes appetizer was a revelation. My dessert a dream. But, Adam’s entree bitterly disappointed and M felt his side dish was – well – simply bitter.

Here’s the story.

The night veered a tad sideways early on when we discovered that instead of a “choose one from every course” structure, the chef had paired the promoted dishes into concrete threesomes. So, if you wanted the Pork Belly Cassoulet, you also got the Nicoise Salad and a silly “jellies and truffles” dessert. Faced with that restriction, Kate, M and I decided the only valid choice was to fully commit to the chocolate torte with Maine sea salted caramel, malt powder and Guinness ice cream. I mean, come on!

It proved wise.

Our first course was white asparagus cooked sous vide then grilled. French for “under vacuum,” sous vide basically means sealed in a baggy and slowly simmered in a water bath.  An accompanying egg also was prepared sous vide. Sprinkled on top – a lovely crumble of brown butter bread crumbs. While tasty and rich, the asparagus inevitably got old after three spears, and we three soon jealously eyed Adam’s stellar Nicoise. Crunchy little bread crumbs couldn’t make up for the juicy Ahi slabs being devoured to my right. Adam was in heaven and M accurately declared,”Adam won this round!”

Fuel's amazing chocolate torte.

Luckily, M also ordered extra appetizers, which included the afore-mentioned, super-fabulous Duck Rilettes (is braised duck ever really bad?) and a briny charcuterie plate. Both top notch.

For mains, the triad received generous lamb sirloins paired with grilled radicchio, endive and grapes in a red wine sauce. Tender, robust and not the least bit gamey, the lamb came with a nice red center. It pleased, but lit no spark. No overtones of rosemary or soft, smoky haze.  Perfectly cooked, yet also ordinary. Curious.

While I love bitter and bold, M just couldn’t abide the (admittedly) biting flavor of the grilled radicchio and endive. He choose instead to dive into the cheddar-laced polenta cake that served as cheesy lamb cushion. Underwhelmed, Kate and I left ours mostly untouched.

Meanwhile, Adam stewed over his bowl of ham and beans. Pork Belly Cassoulet it was not. Salty, thoroughly cooked through and lacking even a remote jiggle of fat, it was a stretch to label it “belly” and Adam wasn’t pleased. He brought most of it home to be re-heated with eggs and toast “where it belongs.”

Adam was equally underwhelmed with his mini plate of odd jellied cubes and truffles — abandoning them to a full-on campaign to snag bites of my marvelous torte.

I thwarted him. Save Bresca’s buttermilk pannacotta, it was the best dessert I’ve eaten east of the Mississippi and I finished every bite.

So, what was my impression of Fuel?  I saw enough brilliance to go back – and order off the regular menu.

Fuel on Urbanspoon

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Portland Burgers Round 2: Fine Dining Burgers

Mar 7

Posted by dawn in Fine Dining | 5 Comments

With it’s chic drum lighting, lacquered wood bar and influx of business lunchers, Walters was the last place I expected to find an “I’ll start my diet tomorrow” burger. But in this trendy, urban enclave – so seemingly suited to hunks of halibut topped with micro-greens – that’s exactly what I got.

Juicy, awesome fine-dining burger at Walter's

A burger that was decadent and luscious but didn’t over reach. A burger that avoided the extremes of both mundanity and gastronomic group-think. No melting wad of foie gras or oozing egg. Just the right mix of ingredients – each item prepared with thought to the whole.

Called the 2P2 Burger (no, I didn’t ask why and I’m apparently not clever enough to figure it out), this joyously constructed and luxuriously generous sandwich filled me up fast and left me happily humming. I jotted a few notes before I collapsed into a blissed-out fugue state. Here’s what I tasted:

The Meat: Billed as “Kobe beef wagyu style” the meat came dead-on medium rare with a slight run of blood and smoky, kissed-the-fire flavor. Juicy and tender with mouthfuls of blended fat and flesh – I could just picture the marbled slab that was ground for the patty.

The Toppings: Applewood smoked bacon arched over the meat in a perfectly cooked wedge of salty, pliant crunchiness. Carmelized onions slid down the sides in a river of melted Vermont cheddar – adding a tang and creamy sweetness.

The Sauce: Frothy, yet somehow also wonderfully pungent, a “special sauce” reminded me of Thousand Island or Russian, only both wispier AND richer. Go figure. Zesty dribbles mixed with oil ran onto my hands and plate – making it a five-napkin endeavor.

The Bun: A thick, buttery brioche crowned the patty like a puffy winter hat. Soft and rich – it’s crust golden and flaky from the egg wash – I couldn’t dream of a better container for the meaty, moist innards.

The Frites: Classic frites added more artery-clogging goodness to the meaty main course – soaking up the burger juices with their skinny, crispy selves. Not the best I’ve ever had, but certainly satisfying, and far better than most.

Bottom Line: A bonzo, fine-dining burger and frites – well worth the $12.00 price tag.

Blogger’s Note: Visit Portland Food Map for a round-up and links to other fine-dining burger reviews from around town.

Walter's on Urbanspoon

First Date Valentine

Feb 7

Posted by dawn in Bar Scene, Fine Dining, Informal Dining, Outside Portland | 4 Comments

A first date for Valentine’s Day is a patently absurd notion. Why put even more pressure on an already over-hyped holiday fraught with sexual tension? But, as the chosen “group blogger” theme this month, I had to post something.

Sonny's - the scene of my Valentine "dream date" with younger man, James Franco.

So I decided to run with the truly absurd.

I lured Adam into my scheme, and over dinner and a great bottle of wine, we devised “The Perfect Portland Celebrity First Dates” for ourselves. And not just one celebrity date, mind you, but three dates each with three chosen celebrities – one younger, one older – and one of our own generation.

MY DATES

The younger man date
James Franco – to Novare Res Bier Cafe, then Sonny’s
With roles as diverse as Sean Penn’s lover in Milk, the partier in Pineapple Express, and the outdoor adventurer/survivalist in 127 Hours, sexy Franco can’t be pigeon-holed. And, as a PhD candidate, he attends poetry classes at Yale. What’s hotter than that? I’d get him a little tipsy with a few 10% beers at Novare, then spice up the evening with Sonny’s Latin-inspired entrees. We’d keep the night sizzling by sipping pepper-infused tequila at Sonny’s bar.

The man of my generation date
Colin Firth – to Miyake, then Fore Street
This high-brow Brit would want the best, so I’d start at Miyake. Small. Colorful. Fresh. Perfectly packaged. The decor at Food Factory Miyake is itself a metaphor for this tiny Japanese bistro’s delicate delights. Super-fresh and expertly prepared, the sushi offerings would surely impress the Oscar-nominated star, no? Then, off to stellar desserts and cocktails at Fore Street, where we’d sink back in a squishy bar couch and make goo-goo eyes over a slice of Chocolate Souffle Cake.

The older man date
Richard Russo – to Caiola’s
Let’s face it, with nary a hipster in sight and the best comfort food in town, Caiola’s is the kind of cozy neighborhood restaurant where your cheeks turn rosy from wine and animated conversation. What better spot to pick the brain of an older (but cleverly cute) Pulitzer Prize winning novelist? As a Mainer, Russo would appreciate Caiola’s hand-crafted wooden tables and commitment to local, farm-fresh food. We’d stay late sipping coffee and discussing the brilliance of Empire Falls, Nobody’s Fool, and (my favorite Russo) Straight Man.

Adam outside Nosh. Waiting for Brian the animated dog?

ADAM’S DATES

Adam had no trouble picking the younger and older women (lovely Keira Knightly and striking Julianne Moore, respectively), but struggled mightily with the  “same generation” category. He finally chose – after completing the wine AND a couple Gin & Its – “that animated dog Brian from The Family Guy ‘cuz he seems like a great conversationalist.”

Okay. . .

To be fair, we’d discussed my dates first when fully sober, so his choices are a bit sketchy on the details (not to mention – one-third light on humans).

The younger woman date – “I’d take British beauty Keira to Grace, because she does all those period movies and I think the grandness of Grace would impress her.”

The older woman date – “I’d drive Julianne up the coast and woo the ageless redhead at Suzuki.” (Blogger’s note: we just saw The Kids Are Alright and I think the “red thong scene” has stayed with him.)

The same generation date – “Brian and I would grab brews and Pig Belly Apple Pie sandwiches at Nosh Kitchen Bar and discuss the events of the world.”

There you have it.

Blogger’s Note: This post is one of a group of “first-date Valentine” writings being posted today by Portland food bloggers. Visit Portland Food Map for information and links to other posts.

Fore Street on Urbanspoon
Sonny's on Urbanspoon

Now that’s Amore!

Oct 27

Posted by dawn in Fine Dining, Informal Dining | 1 Comment

Long, hectic days with high maintenance clients (you know who you are) drain my spirit and cripple my cooking abilities. Even boiling pasta seems a chore.

Those evenings, I lift my weary eyes from my computer and whine to Adam, “Let’s go to Ribollita.”

Always crowded with happy patrons, I’m amazed by how little buzz Ribollita garners.

Folks who wax poetic about the far reaches of Middle Street would rather blather on about Duck Fat next door. And who can blame them, really. I’ve done so myself!

Yet another lousy iPhone photo. Ribollita's gnocchi in the foreground -- osso bucco in the background.

I usually opt for the Roasted Chicken Puttenesca. The snickering 10-year old in me adores that “puttenesca” translates to “whore’s spaghetti.” Pasta of ill repute? Gotta love it.

In Ribollita’s version, housemade pappardelle ribbons are anything but sticky – yet they stick to the ribs like a Sicilian classic should. Fall-off-the-bone chicken, loads of garlic, capers, and kalamatas dance together in the artisanal red sauce and create a party. Each time, I struggle to suppress the “abbondanza!” bubbling up in my vocal chords.

Monday night, however, I strayed from the norm and ordered two things I had yet to try – the steamed mussels and the pan-seared gnocchi. Adam choose the veal osso bucco.

Steamed Mussels
An admitted mussel nut like me can be hard to please. I want ideal consistency and a creative, aromatic broth. Ribollita’s were shaky on the first part, solid on the second. Too chewy, small and slightly gritty, the mussels themselves were underwhelming. I ate a few, then grabbed the crusty Italian bread and turned my full attention to the broth. Pistachio butter cranked up the richness in this delicious, thoroughly original brew. Chunks of pistachio, a smidge of garlic and a healthy dash of salt tamed the butter’s sweetness. It took a while to regain my senses and shun the loaf. Nothing worse than filling up on bread – even if it is dipped in heavenly bouillon!

Pan-Seared Gnocchi
Gnocchi usually isn’t my bag. Mushy potato balls? Never understood the appeal. But the “pan-seared” part has always tempted and I finally gave Ribollita’s gnocchi a whirl. Smart move. Searing transformed the goopy texture – sealing the orbs in a crisp jacket of lightly fried flavor. Tossed with salty prosciutto and crisp pea pods, and topped with parmesan, the result was a super-hearty pile of perfection.

Veal Osso Bucco
This Milanese stew encapsulates what’s grand about Ribollita – simple dishes, wonderfully cooked, lovingly made. Osso bucco requires more patience than flair. It’s an amalgamation of veal shanks, mirepoix (carrots, onions, celery), red wine, stock, herbs (rosemary, thyme, and bay leaf, perhaps?) and hours simmering in low heat. Adam dug into the massive mound and pronounced it “exactly right – robust, braised to tenderness and unpretentious.” (Yes, he really said that.) Surprising me, he also raved on and on about the accompanying polenta until I finally scooped up a spoonful. Creamy, yet dense, and spiced with herbs, it slurped up the veal “gravy” – spawning a splendid savory pudding.

Now that’s amore!

Ribollita on Urbanspoon

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“A Little Too Greasy” Spoon

Oct 12

Posted by dawn in Fine Dining, Informal Dining | No Comments

I lunched at Blue Spoon yesterday for the first time in months. As in the past, I left frustrated. And reminded of why I just can’t put this place on my “go-to” list.

Blue Spoon's yummy beet salad with red onions and pine nuts.

I want to love Blue Spoon. Menu items are creative and fairly priced. Produce and meats seem local and fresh. Service is friendly and fast. And yet – more often than not – I’m perplexed and underwhelmed by the culinary execution.

This time, it was a preponderance of grease that dampened what held so much promise. An otherwise lovely arugula, pancetta and poached egg salad wilted under the weight of a fried flavor that left me slightly queasy. A friend’s inventive grilled cheese (white cheddar and apricot preserves) had tasty tones that fought mightily. But in the end, an oily film – like days-old griddle drippings – won out.

As a lover of all things pig, I’m no shrinking violent when it comes to fat. So. . .what the heck?

I am willing to accept that I order poorly at times, or that I tend to visit on “bad days.” But the consistent inconsistency simply drags me down. My hopes float with a tasty beet and goat cheese salad only to be dashed on the rocks by an overcooked bistro burger. A dry chicken sandwich eclipses the happy haze from a discerning Meze platter of dry pungent cheese, shaved prosciutto, and toasted nuts.

Yesterday, a hearty mushroom soup – peppery and thick with kale, baby bellas and diced carrots – had me believing until the salad came and the grease, um, hit the fan.

I’m truly at a loss. Reviews rave. Friends speak highly. The bistro’s atmosphere embraces with its cozy warmth and charming simplicity.

Sigh.

I did once have a delectable haddock chowder. Creamy and lush with fingerling chunks and dense fish, it pleased with every bite. The memory of it still stirs my synapses. It’s that one flash of true brilliance that keeps me hoping – and trying – for that elusive golden dining experience at Blue Spoon.

Blue Spoon on Urbanspoon

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East End Love Affair

Oct 4

Posted by dawn in Bar Scene, Dining Events, Fine Dining | 4 Comments

Speaking truth to foodies, my friend Uke confessed her bias – flat-out, right in the first paragraph – in a glowing (and lovingly written) August review of Caiolas. Her frankness gave me the courage to do something I’d been avoiding for months: write a full-fledged review of Bar Lola.

Bar Lola's meaty and delicious cod loin

Ya see, I love Bar Lola.

I love the food. I love the menu structure. I love the complete lack of pretension of owners Guy & Stella Hernandez. In short, I am horribly biased.

So, if you abhor odes – you might as well stop reading now.

But, if you want to know why Bar Lola is one of the best, most consistent and welcoming restaurants in Portland – read on.

Perhaps it is merely this patron’s perception, but a conspicuous lack of drama seems to set the vibe at Bar Lola. Out front, Stella’s keen eye and palpable calm make you feel comfortably coddled. Sneaking glances into the kitchen, you sense that Guy loves the slicing, dicing and creating. Employees appear happy. Somewhere angels sing. . .

Okay, before I go completely off the rails on this love letter, I do have two negative things to say.

  1. The romantic lighting is not conducive to my already lame iPhone photography (see photo, right)
  2. In the five-course “Feed Me” dinner I’m about to describe, I wasn’t completely enamored with the opening round – a pork belly “snack.”

The Review Part

Bar Lola structures its menu into five sections: small, medium, large, salads and sweet. Experience it as you like. Pick one from each and throw in wine pairings. Simply have a small and a large. Go crazy with the mediums (an approach favored by a fellow blogger and Bar Lola lover), or let the kitchen decide and choose “Feed Me.”

For this review I cashed in my chips and went all in: Feed Me ($44) with wine pairings ($24). I received a dish from each grouping (er, actually TWO from medium), wine pairings with all but the salad, and a sizable “snack” to begin.

Adam had to roll me home.

Round One: Snack
(The aforementioned) Seared Pork Belly With Cucumber Slaw.

While good, it lacked the profoundly delicious nature of everything that followed. Slightly too charred, the belly couldn’t match the lusciousness of the “Japanese Big Mac” I enjoyed recently at Pai Men.

Let’s move on – shall we?

Round Two: Medium
Orecchiette with Olive oil, Pangritata and Portuguese Sardines

Pangritata is a Southern Italian flash of brilliance. Oft made from stale bread, herbs, crushed garlic and olives, it’s a “poor man’s Parmigiano.”

Wearing a delicate coating of this savory substitute, the tender, ear-shaped pasta and the plump, salty sardines mingled in my mouth – joined by flecks of spinach and a nose-tingling dash of red pepper flakes. I can’t remember the last time something tasted so singularly sublime.

Each bite was better than the last. I wanted to dive into a vat of if it and eat my way out. Instead, I settled with sipping the paired wine (a Michel Lynch Sauvignon Blanc from Bordeaux), which flawlessly corralled the red pepper’s heat.

Bar Lola's front entrance sign in Portland Maine's East End

Round Three: Medium
Applewood Smoked Duck Breast with Morse’s Sauerkraut and Mustard

This is one dish the Hernandez’ tend to keep on the menu, and the one – if permanently removed – would drive Adam to Hari Kari. My acerbic cynic of a man morphs into a sentimental poet each time he eats it.

He ordered it for himself (thank God – I’m not beyond wielding my fork as a weapon) and voiced (more than once) exactly what I was thinking: smoke and sour together is the culinary world’s gift to the tastebuds.

Particularly in this dish.

Rosy slices of succulent smoked duck cap a mound of pungent sauerkraut so saucey and laced with mustard that the grains flow in a river around the plate. I was so enjoying it – closing my eyes and chewing at a snail’s pace – that I almost forgot to drink my wine: a lovely Leese-Finch Pinot Noir from Monterey.

Round Four: Salad
Roasted Lentil Salad with Carrots and Mini Brussel Sprouts

If you read AP much, you know I’m obsessed with earthy flavors. Bitter and earthy – even better. This dish fit my fetish to a “T.” Tinged with the tang of tarragon and doused with a mustardy vinaigrette – it tasted like Fall.

Superbly roasted lentils and carrots, blessedly bitter brussel sprouts and a drizzle of aromatic oil. Simply yum.

Round Five: Large
Cod Loin with Sauteed Vegetables, Ponzu and Toasted Sesame Seeds

Immaculately cooked to a buoyant firmness, this meaty hunk of white fish charmed me with its simplicity. Flecked with a light, peppery coating, it floated in a cunning ponzu sauce.

Complex, with strains of citrus, soy, mirin, and dashi – all flavor-forward and easy to detect – the sauce was nonetheless subtle and weightless enough to not overpower the fish. Ingenious.

A white Spanish Rioja (crafted from 60-year old vines) paired nicely, curbing the ponzu’s acidity with smoke and spice.

Round Six: Sweet
Almond Tart

I have to confess. At this point, my stomach was bulging and I could only nibble.  Note taking screeched to a halt (hence the cryptic titling). I have hazy memories of a flaky crust, a dusting of powered sugar and a creamy almond filling.

Sharper scenes of previous Bar Lola desserts prevail in my grey matter, however. A honey and yogurt panna cotta comes close to being the best in town (although I give the edge to Bresca’s buttermilk), and the Trio of Cheeses always pleases.

Wrapping It Up

Bar Lola – beloved by many, but commonly overlooked on lists of Portland’s best – deserves better. Much better. It ranks high on MY list of favorites – and certainly is one of the most creative and pleasant fine dining experiences in town.

Bar Lola on Urbanspoon

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Beacon Hill Bust

Sep 17

Posted by dawn in Breakfast & Brunch, Fine Dining, Outside Portland | 7 Comments

Adam and I spent a few days in Boston for the Rush concert (yes Rush – we ARE that old AND that geeky) and took the opportunity to hit a few Beacon Hill hot spots.

Okay, so this photo has nothing to do with food, but it made me laugh. Where do you think the "specialty hooker entrance" might be? Yes, I have a 10-year-old boy's sense of humor.

While I know that it was not – of course – representational of all Boston’s food scene, I have to say that the West End certainly didn’t have much game. Clink sucked. Mooo. . . . was good, but WAAY overpriced and The Paramount was a flat-out joke.

I’ll elaborate.

But, before I do, I have to share a realization: Portland restaurants are gaining the rep – in large part – because of the presence of the chef-owners.  Not to take anything away from their hard-working sous chefs, line chefs and staffs, but the reason Bresca, Miyake and Bar Lola are consistently good is because Krista, Masa and Guy are (for the most part) THERE. They are committed and constantly creating.

So, back to Boston.

At Clink, located in the trendy Liberty Hotel, hungover line chefs and attention-starved waitresses seemed to run the show. Flirting was more on the agenda than serving. We received our wine and then lost our waitress to more important endeavors, such as chatting into the open kitchen. She must have felt me starring daggers into her back because she finally came to take our order. (And let me be clear, this was pre-concert, so it was early and the restaurant was practically empty.)

When the food came, I was sorry we’d bothered. The yellow fin tuna was days past its prime, the mussels uninspired and chewy, and the foie gras over-chilled. The meat in the goat curry was moist and flavorful, but the accompanying “homemade gnocci ” were simply flavorless gobs that managed to be both mealy and pasty. Truly a mess of a meal.

The next night’s dinner at Mooo. . . .was much better. A swank steak house with cream decor and dim lights, the place was packed and vibrant. The food was extremely good. Adam’s fries in his Steak Frites rivaled Duck Fat’s and our sauteed spinach was simply – and perfectly – cooked. My (ah-hem) beef with the joint? A 14-ounce New York Strip was $44 and it came with nothing.

Nothing.

A Napa Cabernet that I know to retail at $15 was listed for $65. An $8 Spanish Tempranillo was $42. This ain’t The French Laundry folks.

Now, on to the – apparently – celebrated neighborhood spot, The Paramount. Granted, we had one simple breakfast there instead of the much-acclaimed “diner” fare. But, if the overcooked eggs, undercooked potatoes and watered-down coffee are representational of, well,  anything – we just didn’t get it. Adam also was particularly annoyed at the non-neighborhoody marketing speak plastered on the walls. Attempting to explain their policy of not letting you sit down until you’ve ordered and paid, the faux-friendly phrasing just made us gag – “it may seem strange but it actually makes sure that the delicate balance of tables and guests is not upset – ensuring that you have a table when you need one”

A more honest approach would have been to say, “Its been working since 1937, so who are you to question? Just order your food from the distracted kitchen help, stand around for awhile, then try to guess when they throw your order on the counter. Got your food? Good. Now you can see if there is still a table left for you. If not, the john in back might be free.”

Overall – our Beacon Hill dining experience was a disappointing, overpriced, unfriendly bust.

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“very Thai” at Boda

May 4

Posted by dawn in Bar Scene, Fine Dining, Snacks & Street Food | 2 Comments

It’s unfair, really.

Putting Boda in the same category as the rest of Portland’s Thai restaurants is like equating grandma’s from-scratch Sicilian with greasy-good college town pizza. It’s a matter of ethnic authenticity.

Boda's exquisite bitter melon soup

The Thai food at Boda is simply – well – unAmerican.

And in this case (unlike Arizona’s hideous new immigration law) – it’s a good thing.

Boda’s menu doesn’t cater to the sweet-craving American palate the way 95% of Thai restaurant menus do. I challenge you to find another Thai restaurant in Portland (or in Maine for that matter) that serves bitter melon soup stuffed with minced pork.

Oily and aromatic with sesame overtones in a savory broth, the soup provoked my tastebuds like little I’ve tried before or since. It awoke areas of my tongue I didn’t know existed! A remarkable balance of flavors, it played the role of appetizer to a “T” – kicking my hunger into overdrive.

And it killed with a crisp martini.

We started the meal with the soup and an obligatory grilled skewer (the house specialty). The list ranged from pork belly, to king oyster, to asparagus wrapped in bacon. Not much of a skewer fan (I just don’t see the point, really), I found the shiitake version a tad underwhelming. The teriyaki seasoning tasted predominantly of soy and the nicely roasted mushrooms just seemed lonely on that skinny stick. The accompanying pickled onions were tasty, but did little to perk up the dish for me.

I turned back to the soup with its acerbic bouillon and spoonfuls of bean thread noodles and was happy as a clam until the entrees arrived.

My tilapia with herbs in a banana leaf conjured memories of mountainous rice terraces and thick jungles. Earthy, like a cauliflower, the fish was dense in a way that tilapia rarely is – buoyed by a bed of cabbage, shallots and hearty mushrooms. Cooked in a bevy of spices (chili, Thai basil, lime leaves, lemongrass, lemon basil, garlic) — it was heaven for the senses.  Aromatic steam released the moment I pierced the leaf and it wafted through the rest of the meal. I alternated bites of meaty fish with balls of sticky rice dipped into a puddle of spicy lemon basil broth. Sheer perfection.

Tilapia with herbs in banana leaf

While not at the level of my fish, Adam’s Thai chicken wings were fun to eat (gotta love messy finger food) — piping hot and doused with chile. Each bite into the spicy carmelized skin revealed hints of vinegar and fish oil in equal amounts. An accompanying pile of uninspired daikon and carrots lacked a strong pickled flavor, however, and did little to cool the wings’ heat.

Full at this point, I began to rethink my anti-skewer stance and wish we’d leaned more toward the lighter dishes and tapas. Fried taro sticks, Thai Northern-style sausage and Kanom-krok quail eggs all sounded just brilliant. Ah well, next time.

Boda’s atmosphere blended mod and rustic. Rough pine tables and floors mixed with cement walls and platinum and glass drop lights. Service was earnest and knowledgable. Our server was dead right with each insight and suggestion.

My one quibble with the environment is the large television hanging over the bar in the back dining room. Tuned to a reality show and set a bit too loud, IT was very American indeed.

Blogger’s Note: This post is the sixth in a series of Thai restaurant reviews being conducted — and posted on the same day — by a group of Portland bloggers and writers. For other reviews, check out Portland Food Map.

Boda on Urbanspoon

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