An Odyssey of Portland Dining
So be it that the world is a small place and Portland a large one. Or so it would seem as the city looms tethered to an abundance of high caliber eateries co-mingling so closely in such a tiny locale one would almost think we lived in Metropolis.
Indeed, there’s no lack of variety among Portland restaurants--ensuring even the most peripatetic a sense of place. And that’s how it should be. After all, this is a city, such as it is, and diversity is key.
In larger communities new restaurants seem to pop up all the time. Here, of course, the rate is much slower. Ciaola’s is one example of the new kid in town to enter on all fours as an instant success. It’s not a hard formula. Offer good food and friendly service in nice surroundings and you can’t go wrong. Five Fifty-Five came in with a bang and continues flawlessly.
Do I dare, then, in the realm of the end of the year compilations offer my list of the best and the worst?
I’m certainly apt to offend some establishment, if I do, and what have I accomplished? Reviews or criticism shouldn’t be a dry Consumer’s Report of what’s good and what’s not. Still if the fare at a particular place is no better than the silt at the bottom of the sink then that shouldn’t be left unsaid.
No menu is 100 percent fabulous, at even the best places. There’s bound to be a clunker lurking. However, if the restaurant doesn’t alter it make you wonder.
Good waiters often ask at the end of the meal if everything was OK. Don’t refrain from saying something like, “Everything was great, but I didn’t like the soup.” The chef wants to know this.
Often I’ll read a restaurant review in other publications (I like to peruse reviews across the country—so easy to do online) and the place comes off well. Yet the reviewer gives it only a fair rating, and I try to understand why when most everything that was described sounded so good. I suppose one has to question the competence of the reviewer more than the talent of the chef.
In the end I’m not so sure that reading a moot appraisal of a particular dish means anything. I feel comfortable in knowing what the food is, with a cursory assessment (good, bad, heavenly or indifferent) rather than a proclamation.
Who’s the expert anyway? In this growing world of food criticism only a few ever qualified as divine authorities. The venerable Craig Claiborne was one and perhaps Gourmet’s Jay Jacobs anaother; his writing was often more delicious than the dish at hand.
I try to avoid this miasma of opinion by merely saying here’s what I had, here’s how I think it was made and here’s why I liked it or didn’t. I’ll spend a lot of time saying how I reacted to the overall ambiance, style and delivery at various places rather than linger over hapless opinions on the exalted being of a wild mushroom.
Ultimately what we all want to know is who’s the best and who’s the worst. It’s really a dreary pursuit yet one that seduces us all if only for quick amusement.
Yet there are places that truly excel consistently and places that truly disappoint constantly.
What I’ll do this year is—quite frankly—beg the question.
I’ve realized in the time that I’ve been contributing to this space that our metropolis is too small and too fragile to take swipes at those whose very existence could be affected. It’s better to omit than to commit.
Yet, there are times that I’ve lashed out because I’ve been so offended by what’s been served in front of me that I had to say something.
But mostly these have been places that are large, well established and quite frankly impervious to the verisimilitude of critique. They’re popular because the food is cheap, the portions are large and are known as fortresses of family dining instead of fine dining.
In the final analysis we’re lucky to have so many good restaurants that are so consistently up to snuff. They all have something different to offer even if some of the establishments are variations on each other.
What our local dining scene really lacks is a better pack of casual restaurants. We have a few. Norm’s, Dog Fish Café and Katahdin come to mind. Even the Salt Water Grill in South Portland makes the grade. They serve decent food in a very attractive waterfront setting. If only the interiors didn’t look like a cheap condo I’d go more often.
Where shall I begin?
A restaurant that seems to have rocked the boat lately is Oolong. Speak to 10 different people and you’ll get a variety of opinions. What Oolong is not is a Chinese restaurant. . Its métier is Asian fare, including Chinese selections, that go beyond the norm. It’s not a menu of column A or B. But in my mind they offer something totally different from any other establishment in town. The interiors are extremely well designed, the space is large and comfortable and even when it’s crowded you can get a table because there are so many of them.
I went there a few nights ago after having spent the day in Boston. I had a big lunch at No9 Park, always a special treat. Yet where to go for a good casual meal at home was a tough decision because such establishments of reputable standing are few and far between. Norm’s and Norm’s BBQ would have worked. But the former is impossible to get into and the latter is often just too noisy if you’re not in the mood for it.
Oolong was great. We ordered a few appetizers, two light entrees, a couple of beers and that was that. It was perfect.
Several nights later I went to Fore Street, which I hadn’t been to in a long time.
It was classic Fore Street. I love the space, the energy and the ambiance—all the more to appreciate the fineness of the food. Yet what makes it all so good? Ultimately it’s the quality of the ingredients that sparkle and the way in which they’re devised that marks Sam Hayward’s gracefully brilliant talent and wondrous results on the plate. From a wonderful puff pastry tart filled with caramelized cippolini onions to perfectly grilled fish and a steamed pumpkin pudding for dessert, it was all gloriously simple and divine. What more could one want?
Several nights later, on a Sunday, when very few of our better establishments are open, we went to Cinque Terre. I probably go there about once every other week, and each time it’s terrific.
I began with their roasted beet and goat cheese salad, which is united with just the right flavors in effortless proportion. For an entrée I ordered sautéed sole in a delicious sweet and sour sauce that seemed to linger dreamily. The various flavors of fine olive oil, judicious hits of herbs and spices, high quality ingredient, much of it organic and literally fresh off the farm--all deftly prepared—account for the sublime fare here. The restaurant is extremely comfortable, the lighting is just right, the tables are spacious and above all it’s one of the best venues for elegant Northern Italian cooking in New England.
The following week we went to Cialola’s with friends who hadn’t been before. Of course we entered a packed house of very happy looking patrons. It’s got to be the most convivial place in town. Good food and good Karma make it nearly perfect.
The other night we went to Five Fifty Five with a few friends. We had all been to a cocktail party--our hostess about to be newly single-- happily gave a splendid farewell fete to her matrimonial home. The hors d’oeuvres were wonderful and it seemed a shame to go to 555 on a full stomach.
What you can do here is eat lightly or go all the way and order a very fine meal indeed. I opted for a salad and a hamburger because I was literally stuffed from too many canapés and kickshaws. Others in our group dined very well on more rarefied choices.
The food at Five Fifty Five adheres to that wonderful concept of American bistro. There’s always something here that’s novel and delicious. That and an atmosphere that makes you feel like you really are having an evening out is a magical feat in itself.
Tonight, as we continue to make the rounds of Portland’s finest, we’re off to the Back Bay Grill. Tomorrow night we’re going to Hugo’s.
Perhaps it’s like taking the grand tour in two short days but that’s how it worked out. A friend of ours from Peaks asked to have dinner with us and to go somewhere “swell.”
“Where would that be?” I asked. She suggested Hugo’s. Quite frankly I haven’t been there in ages and I’m looking forward to it.
And it occurred to me that by going to Back Bay first, Portland’s longest running establishment of haute cuisine, followed by the stratospheric Hugo's might seem like nothing less than dining bravado beyond our reach.
To be continued.
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