Neighborhood restaurants orbit in their own world. Warm, cozy and familiar they tend to eschew trendiness and other social hysterias. They’re everywhere around Greater Portland, for better or worse. But the most revered remain Caiola’s in the West End; Hot Suppa, Local 188 and others around Longfellow Square; Lolita, the Front Room and Blue Spoon on Munjoy Hill. These are some of the city’s standard bearers of dining in the hood. Now you can add Abilene to the group. Opened since June, it holds sway in the Woodford’s area. The difference is that this part of Portland doesn’t attract foodie preeners or make way for the next Central Provisions.
When Maine Street Meats, Bleecker and Flamm (the names of the co-owners) made some news recently on a local food site–their desultory mention was buried in a story about sandwiches. Maine Street Meats has an exemplary one, a Vietnamese bahn mi offered on Tuesdays. But this exquisite delicacy shop also has steamed pork buns on Thursdays as well as thin-crust pizzas daily and stuffed savory breads and double chocolate chip cookies that are popular with the lunch crowd every day.
The week that was Harvest on the Harbor showcased Maine food and dining in stunning display. But of all the events the one that cast the widest net was the Stage Dinner at Merrill Auditorium. It’s where some of the region’s best chefs cooked a six-course dinner for a seated crowd–but this time we were not there sitting in the audience but rather participating at tables set up on stage. It virtually allowed everyone to experience the cooking from six restaurants all in one fell swoop.
Portland leads the pack for chefs and restaurateurs to strut like superstars, waving their tickets to birth and background in frothy good will. That leaves a place like LFK in precarious limelight, its firmament aflicker in irreverent ways. Like the naughty boy acting out, it defies convention in so doing what it does so well: hosting a nightly asylum of imbibing foodies in nocturnal repose–a smattering of bohemians in the midst of high gastronomy all around it.
Featured here is one of the pie recipes that I would get from Keith Boyle, a longtime fixture at the Portland farmer’s market at Uncle’s Farm Stand. He passed on October 8th unexpectedly from a fatal heart attack.
Over the years he would share his family’s recipes with me–both from his mother, Patty Boyle, who passed some years ago and his grandmother, Gladys Gilbert, 90. These are all old-fashioned farm recipes, some dating back many decades. This crabapple pie is typical of the great recipes Keith offered.
As American as crabapple pie? Well, hardly, since this fruit doesn’t’ enjoy the same popularity as its larger cousin, the apple. That’s a shame because crabapples are a sturdy little fruit with a distinctive taste that work beautifully in pies, jams (very high in pectin), chutneys and sauces.
Crabapples are a little difficult to work with because they’re so small. They generally don’t need peeling; if you did, using the standard peeler might result in some nicked fingers. Actually it’s preferable to leave the skins on because they’re pectin rich and act as a natural thickener.
There’s a lot of good corned beef hash served at Portland restaurants–especially those with brunch menus. In fact, you can get hash on any day where breakfast is served—from hotel dining rooms to dives and everything else in between.
Hot Suppa, Marcy’s, Becky’s, Local 188, Front Room, to name a few have admirable dishes of corned beef hash.
But the winner for the most unusual is cooked up at LFK. The bar/restaurant follows an interesting concept of offering two plate sizes for many of its dishes. Whatever size you choose you get a heaping helping of hash in the small ($9) or large ($16) portion size. Unless you’re feeling voracious the small portion is plenty big filling an 8-inch round dinner plate to the rim.
Cast-iron has always been in my arsenal of cookware with a few sizes at the ready in pots and pans. But over the years my collection has grown from two cast-iron pans to a large collection in all sizes for many different uses.
I’ve learned that what makes cast-iron skillets so integral is the sturdiness of the pan and the heat that it conducts so evenly for such dishes as cornbread, producing the inimitable outer crust, or for skillet pies. Drape pastry dough into a skillet and fill with apples, sugar and a few knobs of butter and it’s all you need for a great pie baked in cast-iron.
Portland may not be a city of financial titans or internet billionaires (at least not by New York, LA or London standards) who covet trophy dining with star chefs. But it can be proud of its chefs like Masa Miyake who is as much of a force in Portland’s dining scene as his compatriots Chris Gould of Central Provisions, Larry Matthews of Back Bay Grill, Sam Hayward of Fore Street, Damian Sansonetti of Piccolo and other gadabouts from the culinary girth of fine dining here.
Moreover, in my last few visits to his venerable noodle house and pub, Pai Men Miyake, the food is still admirably done.
Though, pardon this round of nitpicking, there is, I’ve noticed, a slight curve ball of discombobulation in how the restaurant is run and the scope of the menu, which seems more stagnant than vital.