The grand logo of Elevation Burger.

I appreciate the company’s organic, fresh philosophy and commitment to producing food that can’t sit on a counter for a year and remain virtually unchanged.

The use of bamboo, sorghum and recycled materials in the store architecture itself and other sustainable practices (such as donating waste oil and use of post-consumer content paper) are admirable. And, the optional ingredient list earned my respect right off the bat. You sure won’t find caramelized onions, balsamic mustard and hot pepper relish at Wendy’s.

Bottom line: It truly is a good option for a quick bite if you happen to be in the Maine Mall area.

But it ain’t no In-N-Out Burger.

I feel Elevation Burger, with a newly opened franchise on Westbrook Ave., goes awry on a few fronts.

1. The Beef. I get the idea. Less saturated fat, blah, blah, blah. But organic, grass-fed cows don’t really make the best meat for a burger. It works beautifully for steaks, but – IMHO – burgers depend on a good mix of beef and fat mixed together. Without a healthy dose of fat, the hamburger tastes kinda empty. When I plucked a chunk of the meat away from all the fixins, my reaction was, “Meh.”

2. The Fries. The olive oil fries (again, I appreciate the gesture) were flat-out soggy and tasted like oil rather than good, fresh potato. In-N-Out’s approach of cooking fries in 100% pure, cholesterol-free vegetable oil produces a crisper, more flavorful fry.

The double-pattied Elevation Burger.

3. The Price. I was a tad tweaked that I had to pay an extra $.40 for the good cheddar cheese. This brought my burger and fries alone to $9.00 before tax. Not to say it’s not worth the price compared to other fast food restaurants, but for $4.00 more I could be enjoying crispy hand cut fries and noshing an awesome, medium rare burger in a brioche bun right in downtown Portland (granted, no tip is necessary at Elevation).

I’m willing to say that my expectations were too high. Perhaps 13 years in San Francisco enjoying In-N-Out corrupted me. I really do give Elevation props for their “closest thing to healthy” approach and general commitment to sustainability, but why not go all the way and remove the high fructose corn syrup from the premises? A whiz-bang high tech soda machine does offer seltzer water as an option among the Coke products (great for someone like me who shuns traditional soda), but why not a healthier approach on that front?

When you’re running to Home Depot or a movie and feel peckish, there are many worse options than Elevation Burger. The burger WAS pretty good. And, you could feel about good eating it. I guess that is what really matters. Besides, the closest In-N-Out is in Nevada.

For other perspectives on Elevation Burger, read the write-ups at The Blueberry Files, Chubby Werewolf, and Edible Obsessions.

Vrylena's contribution: Whispers of the Frost

It didn’t sneak up on me this year. I planned, recruited cohorts to bring cocktails, secured last-minute kitchen help (thank you S.!), invited new bloggers, and – in an uncharacteristic flash of Martha Stewart-like craftiness – made a center piece. Don’t know what that was about. . .

In year three, Obscure Holiday Cocktails officially became a tradition.

S. outdid herself (again) with cheese pairings, and the cocktails kicked ass! Seriously. All (at least to my taste) were great. So much so, that I actually got a little nostalgic about the gnarly Grinch and the revolting Christmas Pudding – ghosts of cocktail parties past.

But on to the details of 2011:

First Up – Christmas Bellringer
My contribution was this citrusy, boozy little number. A cousin to last year’s tropical crowd pleaser, The Ulimate Holiday, the Bellringer was tart with a nutty edge. More complex than a Screwdriver, but orange-juicy and pleasant, it’s the kind of drink that sneaks up on you. Again, more Santa Monica than Santa Claus, but whose judging? Methinks the dark of early December makes me crave the beach.

Fixin’s:
1 oz Gin
1 oz Cointreau
1 oz Frangelico
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed orange juice
Orange twist

Pairing: Caprichio De Cabra, a Spanish goat cheese high in fat and protein plowed through the drink’s tart sweetness and draped my tongue in a happy hug.
Bottom Line: The fruity cointreau and the nutty frangelico totally mask the gin. Proceed carefully.

Next – Greek Airmail
A. twisted this vintage spirit around with a liquor from his heritage (the Greek Metaxa subbed for rum) and produced a fragrant winner. Earthy from the biting tonic and bitters, sweet from the honey, tart from the lime and fresh from the mint. Balanced is the word. Much like the man, himself.

1-1/2 oz Metaxa
3/4 oz Lime juice
1 oz Honey
Splash Q Tonic
Dash of bitters
Muddled mint

Pairing: England’s Keen’s cheddar – more nutty than sharp – added one more dimension to the flavor frenzy. Nice.
Bottom Line: A terrific aperitif. I recommend it as a start to an evening.

Kate stirs the Tom & Jerry's.

Then – Lion’s Pride
Adam took delicious liberties with a seasonal tipple revealed by the bartender at Brunswick’s beer mecca. Hence the name. Very, very adult with a peppery finish, this frothy concoction won my heart. It featured bitters (a popular ingredient this year) and was like nothing I’ve sipped before. Herbal, with a smooth base from the egg white, it rolled around in my mouth like a savory sauce until the twin kicks of lime and pepper asserted themselves. Sublime.

Fixin’s:
1 oz St.Germain
1 oz Gin
Portion of egg white
Dash Peychaud Bitters
Lime juice
Shake and top with lime zest and black pepper

Pairing: Valencay, a goat’s milk covered in ash, was a grown up cheese for a grown up drink. Instead of countering the Lion’s Pride’s flavors, it matched them. Brilliant.
Bottom Line: Classic yet original. Smooth yet spicy. If only folks referred to me this way!

And Then – Whispers of the Frost
I adore the name (so, granted, I was predisposed) but Vrylena’s beverage continued the evening’s winning streak. Culled from Old Mr. Boston De Luxe Official Bartender’s Guide (I sense V is just as enamored by such-titled things as I) this delicately named drink is anything but. Powered sugar and citrus barely tame three dark, potent alcohols. Subtle it is not. But truly luscious. It went straight to my head.

1 oz Bourbon
1 oz Sherry
1 oz Port
Dash of Powdered Sugar
Serve with slices of lemon and orange

Pairing: My pick for best pairing of the night. A Bayley Hazen Blue stared the high alcohol content of Whispers of the Frost right in the eye and didn’t back down.
Bottom Line: A couple of these and you’ll be ho ho ho-ing. Ergo, this cocktail is not advisable for office parties.

Finally – Tom & Jerry
Kate continued her nog-ish ways again this year with a creamy warm Tom & Jerry.  Two years ago, I dissed the Rye Flip for being an anemic cousin to Egg Nog. Tom & Jerry caused me to reconsider that assessment. Like the flip, it’s thinner and less weighty than nog, but offers the same velvety, pie-like spice that saucily chortles, “Christmas.”  Without the heaviness.

12 eggs
1 Cup Sugar
1 Bottle Brandy
Ground allspice
Ground cinnamon
Ground cloves
Dark rum
Milk
Nutmeg

Pairing: S. rightly skipped the cheese this round and presented us with not one, but TWO, delectable homemade chocolates: Ghost Chili Salt Bark (with salt from Gryffon Ridge Spice Merchants in Dresden, ME) and Guittard Chocolate with Candied and Roasted Marcona Almonds and Sea Salt. Yes, the women is my hero.
Bottom Line: A lovely way to end a lovely evening.

Other highlights? S. brought the best deviled eggs I’ve ever had the honor of devouring and Steffi (the awesome owner of Schulte & Herr) popped in for the Christmas Bellringer round and left behind (bless her) a plate of her restaurant’s signature lox. All and all, a successful night of imbibing, noshing and gaiety.

Blogger’s Note: Check out the insights and thoughts of the other participants at their blogs at the links above!

Yakitori is now served at Pai Men Miyake.

Planned a “catch up” dinner with my pal A. from Portland Food Map last night and his suggestion of Pai Men Miyake proved inspired.

It was the restaurant’s first night serving Yakitori (A. swears he didn’t know!) and we happily gnawed away on charred crisp bits of Kawa (chicken skin), Reba (chicken liver) and pork intestine.

Yakitori literally means “grilled chicken,” but refers generally to skewered meats cooked on a skinny open-flame grill just wide enough to char the meat without setting the wood skewers aflame.

Pai Men offers quite a lengthy list of chicken, duck, pork and beef yakitori. More than 15 skewer choices ranging in price from $2.00 to $7.00. Only wish I’d had the presence of mind to snap a shot of the menu!

On this first visit, our favorite was the chicken liver — which rivals the stunning preparation at Emilitsa in that “close your eyes and imagine yourself hand fed by a Persian prince” kinda way.  All three choices, however, were rich, oily and pungent. The way animal parts and innards should be.

A great addition to solid restaurant that keeps getting better and better. I’m looking forward to trying the beef tongue skewer next.

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.

Schulte & Herr's fantastic lox and potato pancakes

Just three blocks from my house – under a lime green awning – is the new culinary object of my affection.

Schulte & Herr.

Run by the former Fräulein Schulte and her husband Herr Herr (no kidding!), this breakfast and lunch joint serves hearty heaps of homemade food straight from Berlin. Having never fullfilled my fantasy of a Bavarian getaway, I have no idea how authentic it is.  But judging by her accent and the sheer marvelousness of the dishes – it’s spot on.

My first encounter was a lunch of bratwurst, sauerkraut, German potato salad and a side of beets. All for the ridiculously reasonable price of $12. I was blown away by the generous portions and the pungent sharpness of the sauerkraut. This is no Americanized “dog cart kraut.” A tart punch and a hefty fullness kick it into another realm. Sizable chunks of skin-on red potatoes bless the creamy salad, and beets of both ruby and gold sparkle with pickled perfection.

It truly was surprising that I polished it off, as I couldn’t keep myself from snarfing the homemade rye bread that preceded my meal.

A second lunch was a $10 daily special that featured two chubby beef mounds that resembled burgers, but tasted like meatloaf. Paired with pickles and an enormous pile of mashed potatoes (that miraculously can be described as both “velvety” and “chunky”), it filled me up so much that I skipped dinner.

The vibrant awning of Schulte & Herr in Portland, Maine.

But it was my first breakfast at Schulte & Herr that moved me from fan to neighborhood regular. Melt-on-your-tongue house cured lox ($9) had me at first bite. Cured in salt, sugar and orange juice and edged with a thick fringe of fresh dill, it elicited a long breathy “oh my” that started in my brain and hissed from my mouth in a loving growl. Pile it on a forkful of crackly potato pancakes with a swab of the horseradish sauce, capers and slices of gherkin pickles and you’ve got yourself a mini tower of heaven.

Next I’m gunning for the Bergmannkiez, a German breakfast plate that includes sliced hams, two kinds of cheese, jam, fruit, and a bread basket for $10.

In addition to the outstanding cuisine, the service from Frau Herr couldn’t be more charming. As the frontwoman of the two-person operation, she’s warmly welcoming and prompt with water and coffee refills. She and American-born chef Herr have years of restaurant experience in the kitchens of Berlin and western Massachusetts, but – thankfully – decided to put down roots and open their own place here. They arrived in May and opened their Cumberland Street bistro just a few weeks ago.

Not only does Schulte & Herr brighten Portland’s food scene with a solid “old world” European option, it also brightens Bayside – a place blessed with Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s, but cursed with a dearth of good restaurants.

As a Bayside resident, I couldn’t be more thrilled.

My only complaints are that the coffee is a bit weak and that they are closed on the brunchiest of days – Sunday. But I guess they deserve ONE day off!

Standard Baking Company's absolutely perfect almond crossiant

It’s not original, but it is classic: Standard Baking Co.

7:00 breakfast: Morning bun with nuts. Always my choice if I’m there when the door creaks open. Sticky, oozy warm. Nuts still crunchy and pert. A perfect counterpoint to the SBC dark coffee – roasted special by CBD.

8:00 breakfast: Gingerbread. Though available from minute one, the gingerbread (for my money) is best an hour in. Icing top has had time to harden and form a crackly hat, and the moist, dense cake has cooled just enough to let the ginger flavor shine past the sweet. Lovely.

9:15 breakfast: Almond croissant. Don’t even think you’re gonna get one any earlier than this. I’ve learned that hard lesson. My favorite item by a nose, the almond croissant fits best for me as a “sleep-in day” ritual. Sundays more often than not. Arrive a tad past 9:00 and you’ll catch them coming out of the oven – the marzipan center melty from steam. Mass of almonds on top toasty crisp. One bite and you can sense loads of butter charging toward your arteries. But you frankly don’t give a damn.

10:00 breakfast: Chocolate cork. As an early riser, this falls more into the category of “breakfast dessert” or “sweet brunch” for me. Intense chocolate explodes oily rich, yet somehow light on the tongue – miraculously avoiding gumming up in your mouth like so many lesser brownie-ish things. Adam loves the cork and could write odes. If I come back from a stroll to Standard (no matter what the hour) without one, I get a steely stare full of hurt (and a touch of malice).

11:00 breakfast: Cheddar cheese scone. When the time pushes closer to noon, this cheesy, chivey option fits the bill. Not a scone fan by nature, I can’t get enough of Standard’s savory, flaky version. Not always available, I make sure and snag it when I see it.  Back home, perched on my kitchen stool, it’s awesome with a glass of cold milk.

Blogger’s note: Visit Portland Food Map for a round-up and links to other blogger reviews of favorite “Breakfast on the Go” places.

Gotta love the sign at The Thirsty Pig in Portland!

Classico no longer offered “Italian Sausage with Fennel.”

Further research revealed the pasta sauce’s fate. The company had callously yanked it from the shelves – replacing it with the far more pedestrian “Italian Sausage with Peppers and Onions.

A sad, sad development in my book. This was years ago – before Adam and I steered toward homemade – and it still stings.

Why am I telling you this?

To establish just how serious I am about the marriage of fennel and pork. Truly one of life’s great twosomes – like Bogie and Bacall, or, dare I say, Will and Jada.

When I find this divine coupling I celebrate like Princess Beatrice with a new hat.

I chair danced like a fool at The Thirsty Pig.

The Exchange street purveyor of tasty pig parts slings a Sweet Italian that fairly bursts with fennel flavor. Slapped into a hot-pressed Italian roll and piled high with caramelized red peppers – it truly doesn’t get much better than this juicy, herbed-up sausage. A side of cole slaw also satisfies. Crisp strings of carrot and cabbage float in a light mayo puddle – a gaggle of poppy seeds swimming freely.

Adam tends toward the Lithuanian Kielbasa drenched with a tart sauerkraut. Although my local Lithuanian connection arches her eyebrow at the moniker Kielbasa (“for the Lithuanians, sausage is sausage…it’s what you do with the left-over pork”), the fat frank is winning none-the-less.

A tasty Greek Chicken sausage offers a slightly lighter option to the the pork links.

Slightly smoky from its steam bath in Shipyard Export, the kielbasa boasts hints of mustard seed and a hefty dose of garlic.

When I can be wooed away from the Sweet Italian, the Greek Chicken fits the bill with its veggie overtones of spinach and tomato. Topped with a healthy sprinkle of feta and pickled onions, it’s a great lighter option.  But the fowl is a bit drier than the swine, so I rarely diverge.

Links are hand made right here in the Forest City – soon to be made onsite. Menu items include a Veggie Dog, Classic Dog, Apple Chicken, BBQ Banger, and a handful of seafood selections (including a promising looking clam chowder).

While the beer list doesn’t (to my taste) represent the absolute BEST of the Pine State’s brews (why not Marshal Wharf?), it is good.  And, nothing beats sipping one on The Thirsty Pig’s back deck while sucking in a breath of fresh autumnal air as Maine summer slips into Fall.

Here’s hoping this affable, affordable – and very, VERY welcome – bar/bovine cafe stays put in Portland.

The awesome roll at the Brunswick Diner in Brunswick

Then, about a year ago, I watched Adam choke down a far-from-perfect specimen in a place whose name claimed the opposite.

That didn’t help.

So, I stuffed the idea of this state-sanctioned sandwich onto the far reaches of my mental shelf. And there it sat – until a group blogger assignment dusted it off.

When A. requested that we pick a place – I stalled. Prejudice breeds lethargy in me and I didn’t call “dibs” fast enough. By the time I rallied, the Portland area “biggies” had been snagged. Perennial Phoenix “best of” winner Portland Lobster Company, as well as Cape Elizabeth’s Lobster Shack and the venerable Old Port Sea Grill had slipped through my net.

Stories of stomach upset kept me from sampling another local institution. I did try the lobster sandwich at the Porthole, but, in a last-minute flurry of confusion and missed opportunities, I grudgingly (hey – it was already written!) ceded the review to Kate. I did include my photos of the Porthole below, though, and tend to agree with her review’s sentiments.

So – what was a blogger to do?

I got outta town.

Brunswick Diner - $13 (without sides)

Set on the busy intersection where Route 1 bends north from its journey east from Highway 95, the Brunswick Diner itself is an intersection – of cute and crusty. Opened in 1946, it ain’t no retro throwback. It’s the real deal with naugahyde stools, a classic jukebox and locals milling about.

Once featured on the Today Show for its roll, the diner’s been riding the wave ever since. I’d seen the boastful banner (see photo) on treks to the Midcoast, and, being a skeptical soul, decided to put it to the test.

Billy's large lobster roll and sides.

It truly was a revelation. Adam (who demurred from purchasing his own roll due to “a lack of hunger” – always a dubious claim)  practically arm-wrestled me for it in the end. Heavy on fresh lobster (with a healthy amount of the succulent claw) and light on the mayo, it featured a crisp lettuce leaf and a generously buttered, split-top roll toasted to perfection. A seriously awesome sandwich. Simple. A credit to it’s genre. A roll that tempered my biases and made me hanker for more.

So, we tried another at –

Billy’s Chowder House, Wells – $19 (with sides)

Feeling mighty peckish after a photo shoot in York, we sojourned to Billy’s Chowder House in Wells on the way home. I’d spied the joint on Ricchio’s Maine mag list and determined to “go for two.”  It didn’t hurt that Joe had also lauded the cocktails.

Rolling up to the valet (yes – really – the valet) at 5:30, we were shocked at the crowd of cars – until we strolled into the bar. Just about every hair was blue. Ignoring Adam’s snarky comment about our compatriots “getting liquored up before Dancing with the Stars,” I settled onto a stool and was soon sipping a cold one and enjoying a view of the marsh.

Lobster sandwich at the Porthole.

A communal vibe and a lobster roll as big as my forearm (you can opt for a $13 “junior roll” – but why?) made the evening sing. While I missed the lettuce of the Brunswick version and wasn’t quite as enthralled with the bun, the lobster on Billy’s roll was just as perfectly cooked (no rubber here!) – the mayo as lovingly balanced. A crunchy side of slaw (I swapped out the fries) and a pickle elevated the experience.

And, I admit, it probably didn’t hurt that Billy’s early-evening patrons made me feel quite young for a gal in her mid-forties.

Portland Lobster Roll Search

Now a firm fan, I tried one last time today to sample a lobster roll in Portland. Hearing tell of the sandwich at the new food cart, Lindy’s Lunch, I took a sweaty slog the breadth of Commercial Street just now – narrowly missing a downpour. While I spied Eric’s Pizza Express and Jen’s Hot Dog’s, there was no sign of Lindy’s Lunch (at least on a Monday).  I even popped by Monument Square to no avail. Ah well, another time. . .

Blogger’s note: Visit Portland Food Map for a round-up and links to other blogger reviews of local lobster rolls.

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?

Paciarino's sign and Adam's photo of the stunning Amalfi Coast

When we lived in the mid-south I was mostly out of luck. Post vacation culinary cravings were never satisfied. Returns from Vietnam and Turkey were particularly harsh. There ain’t no street Pho in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, folks.

But Portland has proven a salve – easing my re-entry from a recent trip to France and Italy. Three places in particular have helped me over the hump: Paciarino, Gorgeous Gelato and Petite Jacqueline.

Just sitting at Paciarino’s bare, blonde wood tables makes me wistful. Shades of creamy gold and robin’s egg blue evoke a crisp Mediterranean morning. A rich, doughy odor wafts from the open kitchen as pasta ribbons curl into existence. Set in front of me, a hearty plate of Tagliatelle alla Bolognese steams with meaty, tomato goodness tinged with garlic, rosemary and cloves. Made from owner Fabiana de Savino’s trusted family recipe, the sauce is pure heaven atop a generous pile of thick, al dente strands.

Next to me, Adam’s “oh man-ing” over fat ravioli pillows stuffed with goat cheese and Vidalia onions caramelized with a touch of fresh sage. A drizzle of extra virgin olive oil glistens on his fork as he stabs chunks of the tender pockets slathered in traditional Pomodoro sauce speckled with fresh ground parmigiano. 

A few days before I’d sampled the Ravioli di Pesce al Pomodoro – packed with local shrimp and haddock. Also stellar. (In fact, everything I’ve ever eaten at Paciarino rings with authentic flavor and fresh ingredients. Try the olivey Maccheroni Paesani or the Spaghetti aglio olio e Peperoncino if you spy these house specialties featured on the restaurant’s signature blackboard.)

We could sit here all afternoon sipping Falanghina (a lemony, crisp Campania white that won over two, seriously committed red addicts), remembering lazy days on the Amalfi Coast, but we have a self-imposed date a few doors up Fore Street.

I’ve written about Gorgeous Gelato before. It was blessing in January – and a Godsend now. It’s astounding how addicted Adam and I became to traditional Italian gelato in just a few weeks. The creamy and fierce dark chocolate is exactly like the glorious scoops I ate all over Venice and it harkens me back. Bitter sweet – both the taste and the memories.

Sigh.

Up next: Petite Jacqueline.