Very few of my picks prevailed.

But that’s not the problem, really. The problem is the too basic, outdated structure of the list itself. While some categories are widely obvious (Novare Res for “best bar and beer selection” – duh), most are just too damn broad.

I’ve argued before that sub-categories are needed (see my “best pizza” argument here) and Coffee By Design’s win for “best coffee shop” seals that deal for me. While their beans are good and I’ve been known to grab a latte on the go – ya’ll really think CBD deserves to beat Bard for coffee shop?

REALLY?

I’d pick CBD for “best coffee chain” or “best bean selection,” but for pure coffee shop atmosphere and barista skills? Bard – hands down.

I’m gonna hear it now from you Arabica people – and that’s kinda my point. . .

The list is simply too simple for the culinary nuances of Portland and the voracious opinions of its dining population.

And that is a shame.

Unibroue's "anniversary" ales paired well with meats and cheeses.

Specifically, Belgian-style re-fermented Canadian beer sporting noir-ish labels that depict Quebecois folklore.

Novare Res Bier Cafe held what I can only describe as a seriously kick-ass, nine-beer Unibroue tasting last night. It was well worth getting drenched in the downpour.

Richard, the Unibroue rep, was cheerful, knowledgeable, and told damn good stories. Something about a flying horse and something else about a devil. Well, anyway, I truly did learn so much about these strong, (mostly 9%) award-winning ales that my head is still spinning.

Er. . .or, maybe I’m just a tad hungover (time for some Hair of the Kahn?).

Best-selling golden ale La Fin Du Monde kicked off the evening with its champagne-like effervesence. Triple wheat Don De Dieu followed right on its heels. But the evening really got swinging when the corks popped on the next few beers — Unibroue’s three, hard-to-find anniversary ales and its out-of-stock strong amber, Seigreuriale. Novare Res owner, Eric, matched these four with a savory selection of meats and cheeses.

What I (and many others) particularly love about Unibroue ales is that they pair exceedingly well with food. Balanced and full bodied, these brews have character and complex taste, yet they don’t take your tastebuds hostage (like say, a Victory HopDevil does — albeit in a good way).

Edition 2005, mahogany colored with a rich head of foam, was my favorite of the anniversaries. Paired with a Tuscan ham and blue cheese, the beer’s dark spice and cinnamon balanced the bite of the blue. Adam preferred the Unibroue 17, an intensely malty dark ale with mocha accents. We both loved the Seigreuriale — as did everyone else in the room. Its subtle notes of citrus and apricot tamed the salty salami and pungent New Hampshire landaff.

Quatre Centieme, a frothy blonde ale, held its own as a gingery palate cleanser before the dessert course. Then, hauled out with a bit of theatrics, gooey raspberry-filled donuts helped prove how Trois Pistoles conquers sweetness. Black and port-like, the popular dark ale is perhaps my go-to pick of Unibroue’s easy-to-finds.

Capping off the evening was a display of versatility by the strangely delicious Quelque Chose. Served three ways — lightly chilled, on the rocks, and steeped to 130 degrees — the ripe cherry, clove and honey flavors presented themselves in widely varying degrees. Fruity and refreshing, the iced version was my choice. I promptly pictured myself on a tropical beach sipping a frosty glass — fanned by palm-frond wielding muscle men.

All in all — a fantastic evening with a truly magnificent brewery. I’ll let Adam’s photos tell the rest of the story:

The hand-chalked Unibroue sign announcing the event.

Happy campers sample the brews.

The organizer of a Boston-based barrel-tasting event poses with his wife and oversized Unibroue bottle labels.

The three preparations of Quelque Chose: (From left: lightly chilled, heated and iced).

Coasters bearing Unibroue's distinctive logo.

Trois Pistoles tamed the sweetness of the gooey raspberry filled donut.

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.

Peanut butter cookies from Scratch Baking Co.

I’m telling you, it was epic. Brow furrowed, I hunched over my laptop, punching things in and erasing — sweating over “most romantic restaurant” and “best pizza” as if my opinions meant life and death.

I almost gave up. I mean, best pizza for when? Grabbing a bite on the go (Micucci’s)? Late night after too many martini’s (Otto)? Hanging with friends (Flatbread)? Snuggling with my honey (Bonobo)?

THIS foodie town requires sub-categories! Practically every query required considerable thought.

Except, that is, the category “best cookie.”

You may disagree, but that one was easy for me. Bigger than your average bread plate and stuffed with whole peanuts, the peanut butter cookie from Scratch Baking Co. in South Portland is hand’s down — without a doubt — the best cookie in town. Toasty warm, firm but pliable, and bursting with flaky, buttery goodness, this cookie truly is lovin’ from the oven.

Now, this is not to say that great baked goods can’t be found all over greater Portland. Rosemont Market’s Guinness cupcakes and Standard Baking’s gingerbread and chocolate corks, for example, are wonderful in their own right.

But cupcakes and corks are not cookies.

Consider this a throwdown? I (and my thighs) defy you to tell me of a better cookie around!

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.

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.

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.

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.

My lame iPhone photo of the Chocolate Zucchini Bread from Rosemont Market

The delightful little East End shop is so chock full of goodies that it alone can supply us with fresh produce, smoked meats, HoneyMaker Mead (more on Maine Mead Works soon), baked goods and cheese (try the triple-cream Kunik for a splurge) for weeks on end.

While the Guinness cake, pies, cupcakes and cookies all deserve their due, it’s the chocolate zucchini bread that has become a household favorite. While Thomas, a Rosemont guru, advises frying up a slice with butter (seriously), I think Adam has hit on the best way to prepare a thick hunk of the loaf.

Crumble a two-inch thick slice into a shallow bowl, pour a generous amount of cream over it and nuke it in the microwave for 60 seconds at half power.  The result rivals a chocolate molten cake. Divine!

EVOO & Balsamic Ready for Taste-Testing

Once in the door, we immediately veared to the right toward the shiny little silver barrels sitting shoulder-high in a gleaming, beckoning row. Filled with flavored olive oils and balsamic vinegars, these tasting barrels are a LeRoux must-do.  A turn of a spigot yields sweet, spicy and savory combinations that will blow your socks off. Hint: try a combo of the fig balsamic vinegar and the blood-orange olive oil.

At the end of one row sit two barrels in a place of honor: the white and black truffle oils. Intensely flavored and rich, these are not for the faint of heart. One whiff can send me over the edge – craving a plate of buttery mashed potatoes or risotto to absorb the thick nectar.

After a full half-hour of tasting we sauntered through the hardwood cutting board aisle, peered at the martini shakers, and stood mesmerized in front of the Kitchen Aid mixers and Le Crecet vessels for a full 20 minutes before finally making our way to the salt and pepper shelves.  We were immediately overwhelmed. Should we buy the brand recommended by Mario Batali or the expensive French mill? We liked the look of one blond wood mill, but it was labeled for salt. After a few minutes of bewilderment, Adam turned to me and queried, “Is there really a difference between a salt grinder and a pepper grinder anyway?”

Matt strolled over to help us out (or set us straight, depending on how you look at it). A culinary school graduate and former chef, Matt has truly found his calling as a LeRoux sales rep and general foodie advisor. “Look at it this way man, pepper is a seed and salt is a rock. You definitely need two different tools.” After that sage advice and a lengthy chat with Matt we finally made our choice and headed for the checkout counter. Outside the sun was setting and a chill filled the air.

Another sunny afternoon spent in the foodie cave.