Paper Tiger is everything I dislike in a restaurant: plate-smashing noise, inside as dark as a pocket with knife blades tearing through and quarters so close at the dining bar that I wanted to call the Covid matron for help. In fact, the person sitting next to me had such a horrendous bronchial cough, I nearly walked out as my only means of getting away from this jabberwocky. I should have and would have not had to endure a series of ridiculous food that was coming out of the kitchen.
Large booths and additional dining at the seating bar overlooking Fore Street
Perhaps my assessment is more the words of an old geezer in a sea of millennials than anything else in a setting that tried so hard to be vaguely Polynesian. But the greatest insult of the evening was when a staff member asked everyone at the bar to move over one seat, presumably to make room for a twofer aiming to sit at the bar. Where would we move? No one paid attention–the staffer was summarily ignored, diners looking up for an instant at this ludicrous suggestion. The only seat that I saw that could have made the transition possible was the one seat to my right that was wedged against the counter’s edge at the end of the bar. As it happened I could barely get into my space that I was directed to, for perpendicular to that empty seat were two diners ass out in their chairs to make room for their two seats. My designated chair was nearly immovable, wedged in so.
The bar, scallop crudo and bar/dining room
But focus for a minute on my commentary about the dining scene. The restaurant whose name is defined by Webster as “Paper Tiger, one that is outwardly powerful or dangerous but inwardly weak or ineffectual.”
This is the restaurant to a tee. The food that I sampled was an amalgam of muddled flavors and irrelevancies. The restaurant is described on its site as a mix between “late-night Chinese, oyster bar and fast food. Perhaps the scallop crudo was an example of fast food. The scallops looked like they were put through the adjustable blade of a Cuisinart slicer, set in a vinaigrette that was as full as a putrid lake. Interestingly the drink that I ordered, one from a very complicated menu of creative cocktails, actually complimented the muddy flavors of the scallops, giving it some relevance. The drink called She Goes to a Different School (WTF?) contains saffron vodka, fortified wine, oleo saccharum, bubbles and lemon was actually delicious and saved the day for this drinker who generally abhors anything but straight liquor on the rocks.
While I was waiting for the first dish to arrive, I noticed on the blackboard baby bok choy. I ordered it (not pictured). It arrived along with my next dish as sliced, seared bok choy, stems and leaves, again in a sauce overwrought in a gurgling pool of vinaigrette, peanuts, sesame seeds and other ingredients that I couldn’t identify. I opted for a simple green and instead served a mess. The final tribute from the limited menu was the fried chicken sandwich. So far the best example of this is at Crispy Gai from a chef and restauranteur who knows what he’s doing.
This sandwich, enriched with a pineapple jam that looked like the chef had thrown up on it, was so huge served in its sesame hamburger roll as to render it impossible to eat. I first tried picking it up and parts of the dark meat chicken escaped from the breading and fell onto my plate over the mess of accompanying French fries. I then tried using my butter knife to cut it in half as the only other way to eat this monster. It was as difficult to cut as a two-by-four.
Three faces of crispy chicken: L to R — pineapple jam over chicken; chicken sandwich attempt to cut in half and the chicken as presented on its small bun,
I nibbled on the fries, finished my drink, which I was getting very fond of, and wrapped up my meal in a huff. I used the edge of the bar to push my chair away from its space so I could leave the restaurant. The tab for this including tax and tip was nearly$70, money thrown out the window to the traffic on the street.
In theory Paper Tiger is a good idea since we don’t have any examples of Asian fusion in our peripatetic dining world. This is a theory gone wrong.
Paper Tiger: 425 Fore St., Portland, ME 207-613-9823, reservations for parties of 8 or more (where would they sit???)
Ambiance: Eclectic Asian, watering hole
Noise Level: Unacceptable
Parking: On street or in garage next door
Service: Friendly
Seating: Huge booths and cramped bar seating 12 to 14 and dining bar-window overlooking street
Food: Ill-conceived
Rating: The Sum of its parts
Price: $$1/2
