We have no shortage of pizza in Portland. From the plethora of pies from Otto ovens all over Greater Portland to the appeal of the big blocks of luscious pies at Slab and lots of others in between, choices abound. One, though, is in a class by itself—and I don’t mean it stands above the rest but rather is one of those places where it’s all about the specialty pie. That’s what you get—or hope to—at Bonobo, the rather ramshackle house of pizza that’s graced the corner of Pine and Brackett streets for years.
The Thanksgiving turkey rush is in high gear as that fateful day looms like some lubricious turkey trot led by a film-struck typist clucking like a celluloid Julia Child.
The stores are packed. Hannaford looked like a mass convening on Tuesday afternoon. Trader Joe’s parking lot was more maddening than ever. And as for the inimitable Portland Whole Foods, they were the epitome of organization as people waited on line to pick up their turkeys listed on a computer roster. The Portland Whole Foods will probably surpass their legendary $1 million-plus proceeds in a day.
Today’s breakfast special at Marcy’s Diner was the ultimate plate of hash: hash browns, turkey hash, two eggs up and grilled toast with a schmear of Smucker’s Jam. Add some strong coffee and Darla Neugebauer’s brand of snark and you’re at one helluva of a breakfast scene.
Don’t’ fret. It’s not just a Garden of Eden of meatballs at The Portland Meatball Company that opened on the Upper Exchange Street restaurant row. Rather, there’s more than meets the balls of these eyes. High-brow pizzas, composed salads, inventive sandwiches and house-made pastas round out a menu of eminently casual fare. In fact, the room looks more like a bar that serves food rather than a restaurant with a bar license.
Perhaps the enjoyment of comfort food—seeking out solace with knife, fork and spoon—is more warranted than ever. We have the growing morass of Washington politics within The New Disarray as pathological as urinary incontinence as some Americans grapple with the likes of the threats to put an end to climate control policies, the EPA agency and the standards it protects, cannulating immigrants to what amounts to exile and even the department of Education is under the gun as the new leader-to-be of the free world takes an ax to all that we’ve been used to for decades in the name of shaking up the establishment like a deadly virus. Or was it all a fatal scam to get elected?
That’s why I may turn to my favorite palliatives–butter, cream, sugar, flour, beef, poultry, anything sweet, pastry–loading up on carbs and the like, at least for a while as classic comfort food fills my fantasies. I’m even renewing my penchant for Dunkin Donuts.
One dairy product that hasn’t reached the artisanal crowd at farmers’ markets is local organic cottage cheese. That you can rarely find it might be reason enough. For a while Lauren Pignatello of Swallowtail Farm and Creamery used to offer her farm-made cottage cheese. I loved it for its marvelously creamy texture and its inimitable tang and sweetness from cultured raw milk. I would buy it at the farmer’s market each week along with Swallowtail’s prized Greek Yogurt. I didn’t use the curds for anything fancy as in baking or other dishes but rather found it a great snack, swiping a spoonful or two when the mood struck to relish the purity of flavor that this simple curd cheese displayed. It’s also not very fattening and has loads of protein and calcium making it the ideal food for healthy eating.
Alas she stopped making it. “Too much trouble, not enough time (or money in it).”
It sits between two worlds: at the tip of the Foreside where Cumberland and Falmouth residents reside in one of the most affluent neighborhoods in Maine; then it’s flanked on the cusp of Yarmouth , a village of Peyton Place likeness with its leafy Main Street and surrounding period homes.
That it’s also perched on the banks of the Royal River gives this namesake restaurant, Royal River Grill House, its ultimate fillip of distinction. But there’s more. It’s gone through a complete metamorphosis, which happened about two years ago, of which I was unaware because it happened with little fanfare.
For many of us who are in shock that Donald Trump is to be our next president, for now we can bury our heads in the sand as we quietly if not nervously figure out how to deal with what we know of Trump and his divisive mindset. Maybe it was all a sham so that he could get elected. Time will tell.
As this was unfolding last night, my sweet tooth was aching for a slice of cake. And so at 9 in the evening I put together this wonderful apple cake. (Talk about being an obsessive baker.) And after an hour of baking and 30 minutes to cool down I cut my first slice when the presidential path was clear. The cake is so sweet and delicious that it easily mitigated life’s more sour moments.
Friends had suggested that we try this restaurant for dinner, just slightly out of the city limits. So we went to it last Sunday night to walk into a dazzling space that I’d been to many times before–pre-New Look. Wow. It was packed with what looked like neighborhood locals of this affluent suburb of Portland. The menu has lots to offer and of the four dishes we had most were excellent, especially one of the best lobster stews around.
If you’re looking for a place to yawn your way through an ersatz Mexican meal, then the new El Rayo in its spiffy space on Free Street might just be the thing. That said, if you’re looking to elevate your appreciation of Mexican food stay away because all you’ll do is cringe over some pretty middling fare.