The recent round of positive comments and intelligent discussion about crisps and crumbles and the differences therein is probably a good sign that perhaps it’s best to fill this space with a safety net of harmless territory far from the spleen of more provocative topics that have recently been beaten to death here.

That said, let’s put to rest this controversy: There is no significant difference between a crisp and a crumble, a confusion of culinary skirmishes akin to the converging worlds of pot roast versus braised beef.

I came to this conclusion after pouring through my many books on baking and American cookery in general. I was surprised to learn that hardly any of these authors even broached the topic or made reference to any difference whatsoever. There was some mention here and there and most of the recipes offered for crisps or crumbles were basically identical.

Eve’s at the Garden, the dining room in the Portland Harbor Hotel, is not exactly a romp in the tuilleries. Nonetheless, a friend of mine has been raving about it for months, saying that’s he’s had wonderful luncheons there, that the salmon entrée with “a very reputable beurre blanc” was first rate.

So we went there last night with great anticipation.

Hotel dining rooms have gained in popularity and esteem in recent years. In some cities, the best restaurants are located in hotels.

Then, again, some of the best city restaurants are not in hotels. Our nearest, largest metropolis, Boston, has no lack of good restaurant without hotel affiliation and very good ones that do such as Ajourd’ hui at the Four Seasons or Spire Restaurant at the boutique hotel Nine Zero.
Portland, too, has hotel projects in the works that promise to offer fine dining.

So far only the Regency and the Portland Harbor Hotel here can lay claim to serving
good food. I’ve already reported on 20 Milk Street at the Portland Regency and think they’re doing a great job.

When I reserved a table at Eve’s I was told that it would be a quiet evening. Mondays often are. In larger cities, restaurants are often closed on Monday. If that were the case here we’d all have to eat at home.

There seem to be many fans of Bintliff’s various branch restaurants stretching from Ogunquit to Edgecomb, each covering a culinary turf awash in clichés. Admittedly I haven’t been to any of these in some years. So perhaps my estimation is a bit passé. But from my recent experience, I’d bet a rubbery piece of steak that my assessment still holds.

Though I haven’t sampled their dinner menu it reads like a who’s who of Continental cooking, interspersed with so-called award-winning dishes. It doesn’t say who’s bestowed these awards, but it presumes that the innocent could proceed safely towards such choices and walk away sated and smiling.

My recent foray through Bintliff’s many doors occurred in Edgecomb this past weekend, where the recently opened Bintliff’s Ocean Bar and Grill presides along the Sheepscot River, across the bridge from Wiscasset. It’s apparently made something of a splash there since the bar offers nightly musical entertainment in an area that has no other such options.

At this time of year there are boundless food articles lauding the praises of the venerable fruit crumble. In the Times food pages this morning was a recipe for a plum crumble, which I found a bit dull. Then, again, the Times Wednesday food section hasn’t been compelling since the Living Section died many years ago. But that’s another story altogether.

But soon enough apple crumbles will take center stage on food pages, too, as these crops near their peak.

Years ago, on my first trip to London, I had wonderful apple crumbles, generally served with a custard sauce. They were and still are a standard dessert in pubs and elsewhere. Since that time I’ve always been on the lookout for recipes that seem to offer the best devise for this humble creation.

Generally they turn out to be disappointing. To me, the hallmark of a crumble is as the name implies: crumbly, crunchy, sweet and buttery all at once. Most of the time they’re overdone with too much flour or oats and the crumble topping turns out to be a soggy mess.

It wins the prize for being the biggest surprise of our ever growing restaurant scene.

20 Milk Street, the new restaurant at the Portland Regency, is fantastic.

A few days ago we were trying to figure out where to go for dinner. We decided on Oolong, which has become a steady favorite of mine. The food keeps on getting better and better. And that’s where we headed to that evening. On the way, I thought of stopping at the Portland Regency to check out its new restaurant.

The first surprise was that 20 Milk Street is a very upstanding, if predictable, but good-looking establishment. I asked if I could get a table, and to my surprise I was told that they were booked solid.

Nearly speechless I regained my composure (when do new restaurants ever get off to such a good start?) and reserved a table for the next evening. Off we went to Oolong for a really good meal. Try the roast half chicken with honey glazed hoisin. Delicious.

I called up a few friends to join us, urging them to try out the new place. Everyone was game.

The room is typical steak house club house décor. But it’s well done. The walls are covered with attractive fabric; the tables are large, covered in pristine white cloths; the seating is arm chairs--soft, cushy and inviting.

In short this is a gracious restaurant but not stuffy or pretentious.

Adapting to what’s at hand is all a matter of tolerance and taste. You try a new restaurant, encounter heretofore unusual dishes and preparations and you’re not sure whether to sneer and walk out or embrace the new with wide, expectant eyes.

What is that foie gras rolled in almond dust? Am I supposed to eat it? Yuck. Of course, someone’s invention turns out to be extraordinary. Most likely you won’t prepare it at home. But at least one lost soul has tread on extraterrestrial ground.

After all we’ve been eating the same sort of foods for centuries and need variety once in a while no matter how obscure

Right now there’s a lot of trendy, faddish cooking going on that often seems loopy and far-fetched.

Remember nouvelle cuisine? Lobster bisque with vanilla essence ? Oh, such nonsense. But it finally came to pass and lingers in the mainstream as an alternative.

Going with the flow happens to us all the time when we cook. Today I had my mind set on serving a leg of lamb for dinner tonight. I had invited a few friends over and as of this morning I hadn’t really decided on a menu, other than it would revolve around lamb.

All summer long I’ve seen—from afar—that Mim’s, smack dab in the throng of summer visitors, has been awash with diners, inside and out. I haven’t been to Mim’s in a long time. When it first opened it was something of a novelty—what with its safely sleek interior and good quality bistro style fare. I enjoyed it.

We went there for dinner last night. It was not difficult getting a reservation for an indoor table. Most of the patrons were dining outside either on the sidewalk café section or the upstairs deck.

To me, outdoor dining is a dubious pleasure unless it’s alongside a beautiful body of water or on a comfortable porch in the countryside. Inhaling traffic fumes, listening to the cacophony of trucks, trailers, cars and the usual tempest of pedestrians has never appealed to me. Sidewalk cafes in European cities are another issue. Those can be lots of fun as one participates in the art of people watching, the haunt of the haute monde.

We sat inside to a nearly empty interior. Everyone—happily—was outside. Our waiter took our drinks order and we pondered the menu.

The Dip Net Restaurant in Port Clyde is one of those happy little dock-side eateries whose first open sign of the season signals that summer has arrived in Maine.

I realized that I hadn’t gone there this year. For the past few summers I used to rent a house in nearby Tenant’s Harbor, and the Dip Net was the place to go for lunch. Since I settled in Friendship this summer, going to the Dip Net meant getting to the other side of the St. George River, which by car is a good 25 mile trip--up one peninsula, down another. I just never got around to it.

But when friends who were visiting from New York and staying at the Samoset asked that I join them for lunch the other day, I seized the chance and suggested that we rendezvous at the Dip Net.

If I was hesitant to travel 25 miles for lunch I suppose the 80 mile trek from Portland to Port Clyde was overkill.

But what the heck? Summer is nearly over, and the days of outdoor waterside dining at places like the Dip Net will soon be a memory. In this case, Columbus Day weekend is their swan song.

In a whirl of dining in Maine this summer there were more great choices than ever. No longer is Maine fare just pot-luck eating chock full of baked beans, fried clams or lobster. Though, don’t get me wrong. Great beans, clams or lobster are as appealing as ever.

So let me give my very unofficial list of this summer’s dining highlights.

The Best Lobster: It happened one morning in Friendship. Friendship is a dry town in more ways than one. There’s no place to eat or drink and certainly no dockside clam or lobster joint. It’s strictly a fend-for-yourself sort of place. But I like it because it’s off the beaten path. Since I have a house nearby, I went to the lobster docks (after all, Friendship is one of the busiest lobster harbors in Maine) and asked if I could buy some lobsters. I was in luck and was told, “The boat is coming in now.”

Talk about freshness. It was literally fresh out of the water. I steamed the lobsters in sea water and at that moment they were indeed the best I’d ever had.

The Best Recent Meal. Fore Street. Yes, my friends, I always look forward to Fore Street, even with its vagaries of attitude. The other night dinner at the bar was superb. At 6 pm we found the last 2 seats in the entire restaurant. When, you might ask, should diners arrive to snare one of their famous 30 percent saved-for-walk ins tables? Four-thirty?

Anyway, let them revel in their idiosyncratic behavior because it’s generally worth it. I had their beloved tomato tart, a perfect starter of baked crab meat and one of the best renditions of grilled swordfish ever. This was Fore Street at its best. And when it is there’s no place better.