My tasty and colorful Chicken Pad Thai

That is to say — wildly inconsistent.

Friendly and cozy, with great smells wafting from the kitchen, the little “outer Washington” restaurant seemed like a promising spot for a food blogger gathering. Plates delivered to neighboring tables revealed large, steaming portions.

For Adam and I, the meal began with a shared bowl of Chicken Tom Kha Gai. Lacking the requisite coconut milk, it featured fresh mushrooms and onions, but had very little flavor. Where’s the ginger, I pondered?

Not a good start.

Appetizers ordered by our dinner companions, however, looked fabulous. A. from Portland Food Map took pity on me and I speared a sample of his Thai dumplings. Plump and meaty with spiced pork and a sauce of bright acidity and ginger (ah, there was the ginger) — they were rich and perfectly cooked. Definite winners.

Adam’s Basil Duck, on the other hand, arrived limp and brown — a pile of boneless duck, mushrooms, bamboo shoots, bell peppers and onion in what the menu described as “hot basil sauce.”

Not so much.

It had very little heat, the duck was tough, the vegetables weren’t crisp and, as he put it, “it tastes like something that came out of a can.” Yikes!

But, across the table, Kate from The Blueberry Files munched happily away at her Larb Gai. She described it as fresh and citrusy “with a kick. ” I snaked my hand over for a fork full and concurred. Extremely yummy.

Turns out — she ordered it at “heat level 2.”

My Chicken Pad Thai — also ordered at heat level 2 — was decidedly peanutty with a spicy snap. Red in color from the spices and shiny with oil, the noodles slurped up beautifully. The Tofu Pad Thai — ordered by Margo from the Portland Daily Sun — was white and dry. It looked like a dish from a different restaurant. She had ordered it at heat level 1.

Lightbulb. You’ve gotta go for the heat.

Blogger’s Note: This post is the eighth 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.

Po' Boys & Pickles' Sign stands out on Forest Ave.

She just couldn’t believe Maine could produce an authentic version of the Crescent City’s beloved sandwich and neither could I, really. (Raves from my colleagues here, here and here not-withstanding).

Although I’ve snacked on my share of this New Orleans’ staple post raucous nights of zydeco dancing and Hurricanes, I felt ill-equipped to make a qualitative verdict without some native perspective.

After a phone call tutorial (more like a “dictatorial”), I had my list of the “Three Key Elements on Which to Judge a Po’ Boy”) and I was ready to get down to business.

First, the list:

1. Fresh French bread. Foremost and vital. According to my friend, the bread must have a thin, crisp, parchment-like crust and a fluffy light center. “Its gotta be firm enough to withstand the moisture when doused with sauce, but not so heavy that a doughy bread flavor dominates the fillings,” she said. Although not an extreme purist (someone who insists on New Orleans-baked bread – preferably from the Leidenheimer or Gendusa bakeries), she warned me not to be lenient with “any ole’ hoagie roll.”

2. Stuffed to the gills with the main ingredient. Whether fish, fried oysters, fried shrimp, sausage or roast beef, the sandwich must not be greasy and must not be skimpy, she emphasized.  ‘If you ain’t pushing it back in, you ain’t eating a po’ boy.”

3. Dripping in sauce. Whether plain mayonnaise (or MAY-NEZ, as she pronounces it) or gravy on the meat versions, or homemade tarter or remoulade in the fish versions, the po’ boy – if it’s dressed – “must be dripping, tangy and have a bit of heat.” A “dressed” po’ boy simply means it has sauce, lettuce and tomatoes. Apparently, “un-dressed” po’ boys do exist.

So, how did Po’ Boys and Pickles stack up?

Very, very, very well. But, alas, not perfectly.

The Bread:
While fresh, crusty and close to the vital po’ boy style, the bread didn’t quite hit the mark. Perhaps my friend’s hoagie warning rang a bit too loudly in my ears, but the self-contained roll (instead of a “sliced off the loaf” roll) seemed sorta “sub” like.

My blackened fish po' boy was tasty if not perfect

The Fixin’s:
My blackened fish and Adam’s Debris (roast beef) both were stellar. Flaky fresh with a slight heat, the fish was well-prepared and plentiful. Slow roasted and nicely spiced, the beef was piled high and very tender.

The Sauce:
My fish dripped with a super-tasty roasted pepper mayo instead of the expected tartar sauce and – frankly – was all the better for it. A river of it flowed down my arms as I ate. Adam felt the horseradish mayo was a tad tame for the spiced beef, but I liked it fine. It didn’t ooze out in the same voracious quantity, however.

Other Eats:
A shared Golden Fried Oyster Salad gave us the chance to sample the fried seafood. While the cornmeal crust was tasty, Adam and I both felt the oysters (and the salad in general) was way too dry. Perhaps the mayo in the oyster po’ boy would overcome this weakness. The mesclun mix, green beans, shallots and blue cheese dressing failed to moisten up the breaded shellfish even a little bit.

A toffee bread pudding was – in a word – killer. Too stuffed to eat in the restaurant, we carted it home and fought over the too-small portion. I’ll definitely go back to try the fried shrimp po’ boy, the gumbo and my very own order of pudding.

A call to my friend with my assessment yielded a stunned pause, and, finally, “A good po’ boy in Maine. Well, that’s almost enough to make my grandpa roll over in his grave.”

Seems Po’ Boys and Pickles will be quite the story down in Baton Rouge.

Pom's noodle soup with crispy duck and five spice broth.

It’s what I get every time.

Now, it’s not the best soup in the world, but it’s dependable, hearty, filling and affordable. At $8.95 (lunch size) and $12.95 (a formidable dinner size), it’s a deal. And, with a heat level that turns your cheeks rosy and sinuses clear — it’s a flavorful way to warm up in winter and sober up on First Friday’s.

So, branching out of my rut for this review was a bit tough. Sometimes I just like what I like. But, I set my resolve and waltzed in for lunch on a recent Friday.

Feeling slightly pressured by the regimented efficiency of Pom’s wait staff, I scanned the expansive menu for a suitable duck soup replacement. Still searching through town for great Pad Thai, I choose the restaurant’s Maine shrimp version. For an appetizer, I couldn’t resist the intriguingly titled Steamed Butterflies.

Billed as the Pom’s house specialty, the butterflies were mostly just a sticky and overly sweet mess. Essentially dumplings stuffed with ground chicken breast, ground peanuts, herbs and turnips, they tasted — strangely — as if they had been dipped in a vat of maple syrup. It was hard to get past the pasty texture of the dumpling shell and the cloying flavor of its contents. Even a dunk in the accompanying soy sauce didn’t mute the sweetness much.

The Pad Thai arrived looking promising. I enjoyed the first few bites. It was fresh. Noodles perfectly cooked. Shrimp the requisite blend of buttery and meaty. Crisp bean sprouts added snap. But, quickly, a sweetness (with undertones of fish sauce and overtones of peanut) took control. I scanned my plate for the lime.

No lime! What’s wrong with the Thai restaurants in this town!

Instead of suffering in silence I flagged down a waitress and begged for citrus. It came promptly. One squeeze and the flavor profile balanced out and I was able to contentedly finish the rest of my meal. Once tamed, the Pad Thai was quite tasty.

Through all this drama, across the table, Adam was happily slurping his duck noodle soup.

Lucky bastard.

Blogger’s Note: This post is the fourth 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.

Kon's groovy Buddha and mod lights.

The Asian fusion restaurant (located way the heck out on Brighton Street) earned immediate points for:

1. A large, uplit Buddha statue – his groovy girth shimmering in a reflecting pool,
2. Mod lights and floaty ceiling swags, and
3. A seriously strong – totally-not-girly-although-it-sounds-like-it — pomtini (pomegranate vodka with a dash of cranberry juice.)

The food wasn’t half bad either. The non-Thai food, that is.

A group of Thai-o-rama reviewers gathered at Kon a few weeks back to check another one off the list and celebrate the b-days of two of our ilk: Joe of Portland Food Coma, and Seth, Jenner’s intrepid dinner date.

And, the great thing about a crowd? Sharing.

Joe and Jenner were Kon veterans, and their recommendations – all Chinese items – were the pros of the night.

The Thai food – a snapper chosen by A. of Portland Food Map and, unfortunately, my Pad Thai (sigh) — were the cons.

Adam’s Udon soup fell somewhere in the middle, and I honestly can’t recall what Kate of The Blueberry Files – who ordered late — had (damn you, pomtini!)

The Pros:

Mini Peking Duck Appetizer: I picked this deconstructed dim sum on Jenner’s strong recommendation. I wasn’t disappointed. Tasty shredded duck strands. Puffy little “min bun” pancakes. Julienned cucumber and scallions. Five spice rub. A Peking dipping sauce of salty soy and hoisin. Very Chinese and very flavorful.

Yummy rock shrimp appetizer at Kon Asian Bistro.

Rock Shrimp Appetizer: A pile of crispy little tempura shrimp poppers topped with a sweet, tangy sauce. Joe’s rock shrimp appetizer made me drool. The whole table loved it. He had to order a second round as a result. Served in a half-orange peel. Alight with sesame and fennel flavors. Drizzled with a creamy sauce akin to a light, orangey mayonnaise. Serious yum.

Crispy Szechuan Beef: Fried shredded beef. Sweet brown sauce. Celery and carrots. Very tasty, but kinda cloying after a few bites. I loved sampling, but probably wouldn’t want it for the entire meal.

The Cons:

Pad Thai: Not the worst I’ve ever had, but certainly not the best. The noodles were a tad clumpy and the chicken – while nice and tender — was scarce. Too mild (Kon doesn’t offer heat options), it was mainly just humdrum. And, although it came with the requisite lime, it was dry and curled on the edges.

Thai Red Snapper: Deep fried and prepared with onions, snow peas, peppers, basil and Thai sweet chili sauce, it sounded promising. Unfortunately, it tasted muddy (more like catfish than snapper) and had an unappealing spongy texture. Not spicy. Not aromatic. The only positive thing I can say — there was a lot of it.

The Service: Earnest and friendly, but a bit slow.

The Bottom Line: Kon really is more Asian Fusion than Thai, and its Thai offerings seem to be its weakest link. While I’m not a big fan of hibachi, if that’s your bag, the folks in the secluded hibachi area were having a grand, raucous time. For me, the Chinese dishes were stellar – and well worth repeat visits.

Blogger’s Note: This post is the third 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.

Pepper-crusted ahi at David's 388 in South Portland

Oil sizzles in a pan. A pungent haze smells of garlic and butter. Furtive glances flicker from tightly clustered diners. A hostess beams in greeting.

Crossing the threshold into David’s 388 in South Portland last night was — exactly — that.

Upscale, yet relaxed, the restaurant features painted tin ceilings, speckled drop lights and flickering candles on a smattering of two-tops. At the rear, a raised marble Chef’s Counter and four leather stools overlook a compact kitchen.

Ushered through the small, packed space we settled in at the counter. More of an eater than a cook, these “sneak a peek” food bars are just my speed. I felt immediately at home. Tensions of the day eased as I sipped a glass of Pinot Noir.

Order in, I shifted my attention to the action and watched Chef de Cuisine, Bo Byrne, shake and shuffle skillets of all sizes – steam billowing with scent. His assistant chef, Katie, molded little green balls of wasabi to pair with the night’s most popular dish – pepper crusted sushi rare tuna.

Adam opted for this ahi along with crispy duck potstickers as an appetizer. I choose a caprese salad and mushroom dusted haddock.

The Ahi: Served with a Szechwan citrus dipping sauce, the Ahi itself was pink and fresh with a plump sashimi texture. Pepper dominated, but did not overwhelm. Heat (red chile, maybe?) and sesame perfectly flavored the accompanying asparagus. A pile of soba noodles was the downer of the dish. Fixed too far ahead of serving, the noodles were squishy and listless — and lay there uneaten.

The exceptional mushroom-dusted haddock.

Crispy Potstickers: In a word – tasty. Very, very tasty. Hoisin-forward in flavor, the crunchy little pockets crackled when bitten and burst with sweetness and tang. Filled with tender duck, cabbage and carrots, they sat atop arugula riddled with tiny apricot chunks. Killer combination. Our only issue – a tad too oily.

Caprese Salad: While pleasantly — and simply — flavored with balsamic and salt, the salad was the night’s disappointment. Tomatoes were kinda mealy and the mozzarella uninspired. Scants sprigs of basil did little to help. Not totally bad, mind you, just boring.

Mushroom Dusted Haddock: The night’s BIG standout. Moist, meaty haddock encased in an earthy mushroom essence draped over a bed of savory risotto. Spinach, first steamed in vegetable stock, then braised to perfection by the artistic pour of a sizzling ragout, added a bright, fresh zip.

And – OMG — the ragout: a delicious blend of white button, shitake and oyster mushrooms, roasted tomatoes, leeks and white wine — finished with healthy splash of delicate clam broth and butter at the very end. Awesome.

The Service: Excellent, friendly, prompt and laid-back. Truly perfect. Our waitress, Jane (I asked, she didn’t offer – points in her favor), served with a wonderful mixture of warmth and efficiency. Bo and Katie juggled questions from me with poise and professionalism. All three made a point to thank us for coming.

Our Opinion: Mostly lovely food and a remarkably enjoyable dining environment.  We will certainly visit this welcoming neighborhood bistro again.

New-fangled fish and chips at Big Fish in Kennebunkport.

Best thing in a bun: The blackened fish po’ boy at Po’ Boys and Pickles. Massive pile of seasoned New Orleans style whitefish stuffed in a crusted French bread bun — oozing roasted red pepper mayo and Cajun coleslaw. Perfection.

Best tubular bakery item: The chocolate cork at Standard Baking Company. Essentially the world’s most awesome dense chocolate cake packed into a portable, palm-sized tube. A “to-go” cocoa rush.

Best new take on a classic: The fish and chips at Big Fish in Kennebunkport. Tempura-fried ahi crusted with pepper and crunchy panko crumbs. Hand-cut shoestring fries crisped to a golden brown and dipped in hoisin ketchup. Killer.

Best booze named for a dead British actor: The Rathbone Sour from John Myers at The Corner Room. Brilliant at all things cocktail, the mix master has outdone himself with this one. Ingredients — basil muddled in ice, a dash of lemon juice, gin and — the kicker — St Germaine Elderflower Liqueur.

Best reason to stay overnight in Camden: The pork breakfast sausage at The Hartstone Inn. Cumin-spiced sausage patty the size of a fist wrapped in thick, juicy slices of applewood smoked bacon. Seriously. Made by James Beard Award finalist, chef Michael Salmon.

Best thing to squirt in your Latte: The liquid “crack” at Scratch Baking Co. in South Portland. Espresso and sugar boiled down into a gooey simple syrup. ‘Nuff said.

Best noggin’-sized breakfast pastry: The cinnamon roll at The Good Table in Cape Elizabeth. Steamy fresh, the size of my head and wafting with fragrant sugar and spice.

Best drink in a plastic-coated paper cup. The What’s Shakin’ Bacon shake at Silly’s. Thick sprigs of meaty bacon sprouting from peanut butter creaminess. Picture a well-tended chia pet. A mind-blowing blend of salt and sweetness.

The sweet chicken wire bagel bin at 158 Pickett Street.

The Judges: Adam and me

The Battleground: South Portland, Maine — one weekend in late February.

The Weapons of Choice: Everything and Sea Salt Bagels.

The Reason: Foodies we deeply respect deemed the bagels at 158 the “best in Maine.” Yet, the voraciously happy bagel buyers at Scratch seemed to know something. Who was right? Which of these former partners did bagels best?

We were determined to find out.

Scratch: Bagels purchased and brought home for toasting:

My face scrunched in doubt when I first pulled the Scratch bagels out of the bag. They were so light. When they buckled under the pressure of the knife – reacting more like croissants than bagels – I got worried.

Once toasted and slathered in Scratch’s homemade herb and chive cream cheese, however, my fears went out the window.

Good. God. Almighty. They were great bagels.

Light and airy, yes, but intensely flavorful. The Sea Salt bagel, especially, hit my tastebuds with a savory barley malt. Smoky salt slowly dissolved on my tongue. As I chewed, the wheat and grain came alive and perfectly blended with the fluffy cream cheese that was whipped into a delicate froth. Simply marvelous.

Now, bagel purists may say that Scratch’s soft-style bagels are simply rolls with holes posing as bagels. But me? I am more a stickler for flavor than texture. And these were killer.

­

A pile of Sea Salt and Everything bagels at Scratch Baking Co.

158 Pickett Street: Eaten in the restaurant:
Bedazzled by an abundant bagel bin and the aroma of fresh bread, my senses were heightened simply by walking into 158. Tempted by the more expansive options (Scratch only offered three), we nevertheless stayed the course and ordered the Everything and Sea Salt with herbed cream cheese.

Denser and chewier with a more assertive wheat taste,158’s bagels certainly were more traditional. An interesting fact considering the common beginnings.

Piled high with seeds of all sorts – including copious amounts of sunflower – the Everything was the perfect example of what a classic bagel should be.

The Sea Salt bagel, however was a bit too salty. An herb cream cheese­­ mellowed it slightly, but I still puckered.

The Verdict: Scratch by a nose. But, just barely. Both establishments make truly fab bagels. And, If there is one thing I’ve learned, it is that bagel preferences are extremely subjective – and very, VERY personal.

Weird and wonderful flashing-eyed lobster at Viet Bangkok.

1. The authentic Pho.

2. The trippy, giant lobster mounted to the wall.

I’ll take them one at a time.

The Pho: Viet Bangkok serves a pleasant version of this classic noodle soup. Laced with roasted ginger, anise and freshly chopped scallions and cilantro, the restaurant nailed the “musts” of this Southeast Asian stable. Thin rice noodles were velvety and fresh – easy to wind around chopsticks and slurp up into our awaiting mouths. Aromatic steam billowed and curled from the light, sesame-oiled broth.

Two juicy lime slices (thank God!), a handful of cool, crisp bean sprouts, a few sprigs of Asian basil and a pile of fresh chiles waited on a side plate for our measured addition. The result – an earthy “green” flavor that epitomized tasty Pho.

Where the dish faltered a bit was with the beef. Most traditional Pho requires that rare meat slip into a hot broth for a flash boil. Our Viet Bangkok beef was pre-cooked, a tad tough, and clumped in the middle of the bowl in a huddled mass. We had to pry it apart. Not any easy feat with chopsticks.

While the Pho didn’t quite pass our strict “San Francisco” test, it was good — and a lovely surprise here in Maine.

The Lobster: Three feet long with flashing eyes that blink while you eat – what’s not to love?! The fake lobster was just the sort of wacky Asian-restaurant kitsch that makes me giggle. Our waitress confirmed that the mounted masterpiece is a native of Vietnam. Beyond that, she had no more insights. Pity.

As for the rest of our meal? Mixed results.

I was disappointed in a Basil Roll starter. Adam kinda liked it. As thick as an Italian salami, the roll featured scarce chunks of pork, scant bits of cucumber and rare sprigs of basil hiding amongst vast amounts of fridge-flavored lettuce. Not a homerun.

Tom Kha soup and basil rolls -- a mixed bag of starters.

A Tom Kha soup pleased us both with tender chicken floating in a rich coconut milk, a zingy balance of sweet and sour flavors, and fresh onions, mushrooms and galingale (a root related to ginger).

The night’s big fail was a massive bowl of Duck Masaman Curry. An overly heavy sauce drowned hapless potatoes, onions and bell peppers in a dense morass. Not one hint of spiciness managed to burst through the gloppy stuff, which was more like a burnt brown sauce than a curry. The duck itself resembled shoe leather — in both consistency and taste. Truly unappetizing.

So, my advice? Stay away from the curry and go for the Pho.

Blogger’s Note: This post is the second 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.

The Kapha Kick tisane at Homegrown Herb and Tea

Despite its proximity to my East End home, I’d never been to the Munjoy Hill tea café before Friday. An error I’m glad to have finally corrected.

Perched on a stool, I perused the menu’s dizzying array of “to order” ayurvedic teas and herbal tisanes. Caught up in the amusing names and detailed descriptions (how could you not love a hangover cure called “Hair of the Khan”?), my ordering decision slowed to a snail’s pace.

Finally, I settled on Kapha Kick –  it’s promise to “lift my soul” sounded like the perfect solution to overindulgence.  I slowly slurped the tasty mixture of ginger, damiana, cardamon and diced apple peel and pondered eating something.

Homegrown offers a daily soup option in the cooler months (Sept-April) and a daily salad option in the summer (June-August). May’s a mystery.

Friday’s crock pot special — an herby lentil soup – was full of health and vigor. Loaded with carrots, celery, potato and spice, it pleased with a garlicky broth and heady steam. The accompanying rosemary crumpet — while a tad too chewy for me — soaked up the hearty stew just fine.

Drawn back to Homegrown again on Saturday, I tried one of the limited-time seasonal tisanes that had caught my eye the day before. Dense with coconut milk and the scent of lavender, the Coco-Kava was a revelation. Creamy and lightly spiced with cocoa and sedating kava-kava, the milky liquid was slightly sweet and soothing to both body and mind.

Owner Sarah Richards measures out a tea order in the background.

Other preparations now firmly on my “to try” list are the Yoga Tea — a mixture of gotu kola, Soloman’s seal, sage, ginger, rose petals and spearmint — and a wicked spicy sounding conconction, called El Mexicano Por Favor, that features cumin, allspice, cayene, and — get this — sarsaparilla.

While I enjoyed everything I ate and drank, my most enduring impression of Homegrown has little to do with food — or even tea — and everything to do with watching owner Sarah Richards handle a very busy Saturday afternoon.

Fluid and graceful, she balanced competing demands with the precision of an aerial artist. At each door chime, Sarah would raise her gaze to smile at the newcomer before pivoting on her heel to simultaneously grind a custom tisane mix, ring up an order and tease her assistant, Jewel.

Seating areas swelled to capacity, and still new folks poured into the small Congress Street space. Every few minutes a regular bustled in to grab pre-packaged tea satchels to go. Sarah would pause for a hug or to query a customer’s enjoyment before tapping a glob of honey into a large pottery pitcher or pouring a steaming stream of water into an oversized cup.

The service was measured and fairly paced despite the imbalance of worker to guest – a feat only explained by the warm attention and enduring calm of Sarah and Jewel.

Methinks Portland is a cozier place because of Sarah and her staff. If you haven’t already, give Homegrown a try – it’s like entering a welcoming embrace.

Sign for the French Press Eatery in Westbrook.

The Plan: Hunker down and work and eat my way through half a day.

The Start: 8:15. Breakfast order in, I am booted up and typing at a round wooden table along the large, front windows facing Main street.

The Early Fail: 8:30. A basket of three steaming hot donuts appears under my nose. Crystal clear that the cashier’s minimizing “oh, about this big” hand gesture was utter lie.

Goal sunk.

Even at 2:00 pm – I still couldn’t handle a sandwich.

As big as regular donuts, twice as puffy and piled high with ingredients, these outrageous donuts are not for health nuts or the faint of heart.

Two of my three choices – the Bacon-Maple and Cinnamon Sugar –  even sported mini “hole” versions of themselves tucked into their middle voids. The third, Double Chocolate, was more of a donut sandwich — extra puffy, sliced in half, and coated with a thick chocolate glaze that trickled down the sides and oozed out the middle.

Completely ridiculous. And, deadly, decadently good.

At $5 for three, the donut basket was a great deal. It could feed a family of four. A dozen costs $18. One costs $2. Other options included a classic Crueler, Raspberry Jelly, Boston Cream, Chocolate Glazed and a peanut butter-and-banana-filled concoction called The Elvis.

Biting into the donuts caused an intense “fresh from the fryer” reaction in me –  a slight film instantly coated my tongue as the jolt of sugar and fat hit my blood stream. After eating only a third of each, I was ready to explode (okay — confession — I eventually nibbled my way through most of the Bacon-Maple). Topped with real bacon crisps and a dense maple glaze, the mixture of sweet and savory was right down my alley (see Whole Lotta Shakin’)

Decadent donuts (from left to right): Bacon-Maple, Double Chocolate and Cinnamon Powered Sugar.

I sat there in a bit of a food coma and spent the next few hours sipping too many cups of French Roast (beans from Rock City Roasters), working and glancing around at my surroundings. A wooden, almost deco style, semi-circle coffee bar extended across the vast majority of the room – rugged, chipped concrete pillars breaking up its mass. Thin, hand-blown drop-lights illuminated the order counter and expresso machine. Local art and photography graced the walls.

After two hours of morning quiet, I worried that the eatery had yet to capture a following (a cause championed in a January Maine Today review), but by 10:30, the place filled up with “ladies that lunch,” local moms and other laptop-toting self-employeds. A constant chatter and buzz continued until I left at 3:00.

My new goal: Spread the word about the killer donuts and – someday – go back for lunch.