No thick plush of white tablecloths because there’s no room for them with tables just inches apart apart and noise levels beyond comprehension, these traits might describe the scene at so many otherworldly dining chambers in Portland nowadays where the civilities of the past give way to guileless gimmickries as though we’re shoppers, not collectors. And let’s not forget the prices. If you think navigating at the local supermarket where shelves are stocked with sticker shock is fruitless, dining out is a way more perilous game of arithmetic. One example is Twelve, the Portland outpost where the refugees of Eleven Madison Park didn’t bring the tranquilities of the mother ship to give new life to our 2023 Portland dining scene.
Twelve’s version of roast chicken, which I had last year when it opened.
I don’t go out to eat often mainly because it’s too expensive. Cooking at home on a daily basis is tiresome but not without rewards. In the old days we made a name for ourselves being the most magnificent food-centric small city in America so bestowed by Bon Appetit Magazine back in the day. I rarely read the magazine much less swoon over the recipes, which have become a diatribe on ethnic cooking instead of delicious plain-speak. I prefer Food and Wine and Saveur if any of them make it to my mail box. And what? And now we’ve been ordained to have the best bagels in the country beyond New York so one of the magazines proclaimed (I cant remember which one). They’re OK, but I’d travel to New York just for the true bagel experience and wonder when The Purple House will reopen to serve us triumphantly those honey-brewed Montreal style bagels. On the subject of bagels I admit that I get mine “mail order”(remember that term?) from Shelsky’s in Brooklyn, where onion bagels are made daily instead of just Sundays at Rose Foods.
But not all is so dreary. Good food has not erred with a total defection, as if settling for a post-mortem coronet instead of a royal crown. I finally made it back to Chaval recently–still quietly quaint nestled in the charms of the Western Prom the way it used to be. The Prom neighborhood may not have the newly minted panache of Munjoy Hill, with the ravings of egregious real estate brokers, where there are only two restaurants. But it’s as good if not better than my last visit. I’ll also splurge at Fore Street or Scales and occasionally I’ll drop into Central Provisions for lunch where it’s half the price of dinner.
On a recent evening, the restaurant was near its bustling best at six in the evening. Reservations are still hard to come by at Chaval without planning ahead. I got lucky and we had two seats at the bar. I can still taste the sumac flecked Belgian white asparagus in a creamy lemony sauce. The last time I had white asparagus was at New York’s La Grenouille in the old days when I was a regular. I loved those luxurious white spears and was thrilled to be reacquainted with them again. The Chaval menu is one of our true European haunts. It’ seems to go against our dull grain of having only farm to table, but hey, asparagus does grow white if given the opportunity.
The Chaval dining room, white asparagus, tomato toasts
The crushed tomato bread is still fabulous, and there was a mistake in our order when the waiter put in braised beef cheeks instead of the chicken. But they were luscious and perfectly cooked. Then with one of Ilma’s fantastic desserts to end the meal, more of which is at Ilma and Damian’s luncheonette also on the West End called the Ugly Duckling with its sumptuous parade of desserts and sandwiches on housemade English Muffins.
Nearly one hundred miles away I found myself on the Blue Hill peninsula recently where on our long way back to Portland the three of us stopped at Lincolnville Beach at McLaughlin’s Lobster Shack on the banks of the Islesboro ferry terminal. I used to spend summers on the island and never went to the shack except for a quick bite before boarding the ferry. But this time it was a much needed break from traveling all day. We got a table at the water’s edge and ordered 3 lobster rolls at a whopping $130. I think the last tine I had a lobster roll it was priced in the $15 range, pre-pandemic, the latter being a lazy excuse to account for inflation. Lobsters are still $6 to $7 per pound so why is a picked over one so expensive? The time it takes to take the meat out of the shell?
Dining on the water at McLaughlin’s Lobster Pound at Lincolnville Beach
Classic lobster roll with fries at McLaughlin’s
Maybe the setting contributed a lot, but this was one of best lobster rolls I’ve had since snagging one right off the boat at a Friendship dock with a freshly caught lobster that I stuffed into a roll. Very fresh, very briny, very plump, lots of meat, simply dressed with a thimble of mayonnaise, this is the way a lobster roll should be. No waiting in line like a schmuck at Red’s Eats, we ordered it inside at the counter and picked it up when ready in a few minutes.
Then there’s my passion for pancakes, which I’ll order at various diners such as Moody’s or Becky’s. I swear the pancakes have gotten smaller at both places. They used to fill up an entire dinner plate. I asked the waitress at Becky’s if the pancakes had gotten smaller lately. She replied, “Must be someone new in the kitchen.” Oh, c’mon!
But I have no complaints at Dara in Cumberland where the blueberry flapjacks are monumental. They also serve dinner several nights of the week, and I highly recommend it for it’s old fashion full-tasting fare cooked meticulously and creatively by chef /owner Bryan Dame.
Perfect blueberry pancakes at Dara
The pancakes on my latest visit were bigger than ever and the fluffiest. If I have any gripe they need to serve a larger pour of pure maple syrup rather than the small amount in a little crock. Just ask for more.. But at $9 for two huge blueberry pancakes and an order of bacon ($4 extra), there’s nothing better than these.
