Writing about restaurants—the food, the people that own them, the management, the wait staff and other personnel--is not always such a romp in the park. Criticism of any kind can be as sharp as daggers.

Sometimes something I say might have been better left unsaid. A cheap shot or a stray remark that seemed clever at the time hits someone the wrong way and all hell breaks loose.

For the most part I don’t mind dangling the bait on occasion because it creates healthy controversy and lively reading. The prate of opinion is not always gibberish.

What I like best about this space is that I have the opportunity to write uncensored on food and dining. Free reign can have its moments, though. It’s one thing to be outspoken in private and another to splatter an unexpurgated opinion across the printed page.

Reader comments run the gamut. Many seem to like my openness while others take the opportunity to express their own free associations. There are those who thrive on instigating. Others bark like malcontents snapping at a flawless blue sky.

No doubt a few readers here like to throw deadly darts in the guise of sugar and spice. I find such neurotic drivel moronic. Other, more intelligent and stable souls opine with style and substance rather than senseless ranting.

Last night I satisfied my Fore Street fix, the urge to go to Portland’s famous eatery to have a simple but good meal. I would say that it lived up to my expectations on a reasonable level. On a scale of one to ten, I’d rate it a very strong seven.

But what I noticed more so than at other times is that the entire restaurant was a haven of tourists. This is not surprising given we’re in the throws of tourist season and visiting parents here for camp weekend. I was told by the couple next to us from Hartford, Connecticut, that next weekend is the real big one for parents.

Certainly there were no familiar faces anywhere in the restaurant--people who look familiar, an easy event to come by in such a small city as ours.

The tourists were of the east coast variety too. Not many hayseeds in the crowd, hollering aw shucks at this or that. I watched as they seemed to order intelligently and knowledgably--their wines, their courses and such.

In that regard Fore Street does an admirable job of keeping up appearances. My meal was good, but it didn’t send me over the edge. I started with duck in the manner of pastrami, mixed in with wild greens. Basically it was chunky slices of breast meat that was lightly cured, set up with a mix of greens and a flavorful dressing.

The duck might have been better left to other devises. It wasn’t one of their finer dishes.

Eureka!

Portland has a new restaurant that will change local dining here dynamically. First of all it’s large, with a 130-plus seating capacity. Secondly it has design. This is no fly- by-night entrant to our restaurant scene, usually a hodgepodge of makeshift décor.

In a city mired in the myopia of status quo and political bickering (the stalled Ocean Gate Project, Riverwalk, Convention Center, Bayside, Lincoln Center, et al?) it’s even more a wonder that someone had the vision to forge boldly ahead to give Portlanders a restaurant with room to roam, an exciting menu and a lot of style.

Don’t get my wrong. I’m not taking cheap shots at Portland’s other dining spots. I love the good ones that, I feel, can compete with the big guys elsewhere. Yet they’re all small, charming eateries with, 10 to 20 tables at most. There’s nothing wrong with a little hustle-bustle sometimes. It’s good to mix up the pot with choices.

This culinary interloper goes by the name of Restaurant Oolong, located at 100 Commercial Street.

Housed at street level in the Thomas Block building, it took over the space formerly occupied by the JS McCarthy Print Shop. Getting the phone number from directory assistance is problematic. So write it down: 775-6569. Eventually Miss Information will get it right.

What sets Hugo’s apart from every other restaurant in Maine, if not all of New England, is that chef/proprietor Rob Evans is a genius of cuisine, creation and showmanship. Whether one is in the mood or mind to have little packets of prosciutto floating in soups of melon and yogurt remains a matter of taste and discretion.

Yet there is no doubt that we have an individual in our local culinary scene that can fight sword for swipe in a much larger universe of kitchen magicians. If he were in New York or any other city where the buildings are taller and the gentry more fashion-conscious he would no doubt woo them wild.

I’ve occasionally heard complaints about the food: tiny portions, inexplicable combinations and so forth. Well such diners should refrain from going. It’s not a steak house or a hamburger joint or even a house of Continental fare.

When Food and Wine Magazine called him one of the best chef’s in America, he entered the international consciousness of restaurant mavens. Tourists and savants flock to Hugo’s to see what it’s all about. I’m sure those of like mind don’t leave disappointed. If only we had a decent hotel in which to stay so that visitors can not only eat well here but sleep in fine surroundings too.