What defines fine restaurant dining more than a varied, well conceived menu that changes frequently and offers skillfully prepared fare? Many of Portland’s better establishments fit the bill.

But what happens when otherwise good concerns generally held in high regard give their dining public the same frumpy offerings night after night? For me it’s no better than the surging inky depression of a tub filling with filthy water. It’s one thing for the stage actor to play a part in a long-running show when it’s to a different audience each performance. But for us diners to encounter the same dull acts of hash over and over are just inexcusable.