Though I haven’t been to any new Portland restaurants recently—because there are none—I have been eating well all over town and here are some of my discoveries and notes.

At Caiola’s, try the antipasto plate, a mix of Mediterranean flavors amongst the various meats, salads and marinated vegetables. Paired with a first course it could be an entire meal. Another dish that I’ve enjoyed there is the Shrimp Romesco, one of those nostalgic preparations that doesn’t show up often.

The notion of Sunday brunch belongs on the lowest rung of the culinary ladder, a superficial course of dining that has as much meaning as a Hallmark Get Well card. Yet every so often the idea seems like a good one--to partake in a dining ritual that can last most of the day.

On Sundays I don’t mind staying home and reading all the papers that I get delivered, or sit like a salted hog on my favorite TV chair surfing all 500 channels of digital-box offerings.

Yet the idea of brunch seemed right last Sunday—a beautiful early spring day perfect for an outing.

Leave it to Erik Desjarlais--the proprietor of our very own brilliant Bandol, a dining establishment that probably could have emerged more highly evolved in more magnanimous regions steeped with intrepid foodies—to give us now the mere basics and done so well, too.

Ladle, at 58 Exchange Street, in a basement location, is a brilliant little coup offering the nectar of pleasantries in the name of soup.

The eatery is all soup, bread and one fabulous rendition of a chocolate chip cookie, which the wait staff behind the counter calls the best in the world.

This subterranean jewel really follows in the footsteps that other local restaurateurs have taken by opening secondary establishments: To wit: Hugo’s Duckfat and Fore Street’s Scales ( dearly departed). Now Bandol’s Ladle. Bandol will reopen later this year, probably in the summer, at a new location as Chef Desjarlais reconnoiters to teach us new culinary tricks and treats.

Hot Suppa serves breakfast and lunch--but don’t try yodeling for supper because it’s not on the menu. I read about the forthcoming establishment some months ago, in one of those so-called alternative papers like The Forecaster or the Phoenix, which often have newsy items far more interesting than other daily news formats.

It’s located along the ass end of Congress Street, known more for its stretch of 7-Elevens, convenience stores, the grittiest Rite Aid in Cumberland County and other down-market haunts.

Though with gentrification zooming up Congress Street from downtown to who knows where else, Hot Suppa might have to beef up its act for the future.

Hot Suppa has replaced the Friendship Café, a popular breakfast joint for avenue walk-ins. I’d never been, not being one for big breakfasts anyway. I noticed the Hot Suppa sign, however, for the first time a few days ago and made a mental note to stop in.