Portland Food Heads

It's interesting to me that I've driven by Hot Suppa at least two or three hundred times in the past few years and it took me until about six or seven months ago to finally decide to walk through their door. I don't know if it's the dark, almost shady look of the place or the fact that "Hot Suppa" doesn't serve dinner, but for some reason I used to drive by and just get pissed off. Although it would probably explain a lot, its likely that I'll never know why.

Regardless, I did decide to walk through the door at Hot Suppa one day and haven't turned back since. Sunday brunch is a prized commodity to me; I don't think I've ever turned it down when mentioned or offered. I've eaten at just about every spot in town that does brunch (or just breakfast in general) and I have to say that Hot Suppa is up near the top of my list.

This past Sunday, the lady and I stopped by for a plate of food, a cup of coffee and a read through the slowly-improving PPH. As usual, service was attentive and consistent throughout the entire meal. The waitstaff were friendly as could be and each one wore a genuine smile on their face. The coffee was hot (and good - I love their coffee), my caramelized onion, bacon and Gouda quiche was fucking mouthwatering, and Lynn's pancakes were light, fluffy and full of attitude. I love Hot Suppa.

That's the thing - I've sat through about 20 meals here over the course of the past six or seven months, and have only once had a plate of food that I didn't enjoy (I won't say which one), and I've ordered just about everything on their menu. Everything is good, without fail. The only suggestion that I'll offer up is that Hot Suppa does a perfect rolled French omelet. Have them fill it with everything they have in the kitchen - I promise it'll come out perfect. I really like Hot Suppa.

So that's all I have to say about this place. If you're looking for a casual, unpretentious and downright respectable place to eat breakfast some morning (or lunch, but that's another post), get over whatever it is that's keeping you from walking into this great little eatery and order a plate of bacon and eggs.

Hot Suppa is located at 703 Congress St. in Portland, ME.

~E~

Have you eaten at Hot Suppa? Be sure to leave a comment about your experience!

Please let me forewarn the reader that this post will mostly be an explanation as to why I appreciate eating at Evangeline more so than any other restaurant in this small city full of great restaurants. Although this will in fact be a review of our meal at Evangeline the other night, it will double as reasoning for my affinity for this tiny restaurant in the heart of the West-End. While I'm sure many people who read this have eaten at Evangeline, those who haven't might have a hard-time swallowing my overwhelming praise for the food, atmosphere and professionalism of the restaurant. To them, all I can say is that you should really eat here at some point.

Let's get down to business. During a conversation with Erik Desjarlais - chef-owner of Evangeline - earlier in the week, he had mentioned that he and his wife Krista (Bresca) had friends who were raising chickens fed with clabber - raw, curdled milk - and whey, a by-product of cheese. He was super excited about these things and offered to roast a whole one for Lynn and I on Saturday evening. As a rule, I never order chicken when I go out to dinner, but this was something entirely different and there wasn't much that could have caused me to turn down this opportunity.

Walking into Evangeline is very much like entering a part of town that just plain doesn't exist; I find it similar to stepping back in time. The incredible room, comfortable tunes and casual-yet-elegant atmosphere are just some of the things that make dinner at Evangeline stand apart from the rest of the crowd. We were greeted by a friendly waitress, seated, and served a nice little bowl of bread and some delicious butter as we chose our drinks.



The quality and professionalism of service that Evangeline offers is impeccable. The waitstaff is consistently knowledgeable about the menu - which says a lot, as the menu changes quite frequently - and the food is always presented in an elegant manner rather than being plopped down without any kind of explanation. This is just one of the reasons why Evangeline is my favorite place to come to dinner - you're treated like a king, even if only for a couple of hours.

To that note, the next thing to come out of the kitchen was the entire roasted bird, presented in the pan it was roasted in. It didn't feel right to break out the camera at the time, but I wish you could have seen this thing. A whole roasted chicken is always a beautiful sight, but for some reason this felt really special.

We were given the option of letting the kitchen break down the bird or carving it ourselves table-side. While I'm more than confident in my ability to break down a chicken, I wasn't sure I wanted to do so in front of a room full of people as they tried to enjoy their food, so we decided to let Mitch and Erik do the work for us.

The chicken was clearly the centerpiece of this meal, and the presentation couldn't have been better. Each plate came out with a half chicken (leg & breast) accompanied by pile of nicely dressed greens. We were then presented with a rather large bowl of frites, a dish holding a pile of sea salt and a pepper grinder, a condiment tray of house-made mayonnaise, mustard and cornichons and, to top it off, a small copper pot containing a herb and white wine-laced pan sauce. The family-style, Sunday dinner feel of this meal was exactly what I had been hoping for, and, at this point, I wasn't sure things could get much better.

That is, until I took a bite of the chicken. I'll spare everyone the wasted time and say that this was flat out the best chicken I've ever had in my entire life. I probably roast about 20-30 birds a year, and never have I tasted a chicken with such buttery, "chickeny" flesh. The white meat, which I tend to abhor, was succulent, juicy and full of flavor. I don't even know how to begin to describe the dark meat from this bird. Let's just say that, up until now, I didn't know that chicken could taste like this. Mitch and Erik were kind enough to carve out the oyster - the most flavorful part of the bird - and this served as the final send off to this wonderful plate of food. A perfect roasted chicken, perfect french fries, mayonnaise that tastes like mayonnaise. Honestly, a perfect meal.

The fact that we were both stuffed beyond belief didn't change the fact that we weren't leaving without some dessert, as it would take a terrorist attack for me to end this meal without a sweet finish. I had decided to order a small cheese plate of a raw, semi-soft cow's milk cheese and a Manchester goat (the exact names escape me). The cheeses were served with a modest drizzle of honey, some fresh figs and a line of crumble. The raw cow's milk cheese was definitely my preferred of the two, and I look forward to finding out exactly what it was so I can procure some for myself.

Lynn decided to order the Pot-De-Chocolate, served with a Creme Chantilly. Beautifully served - scooped table-side out of a chilled tureen - this was some of the better chocolate mousse I've had before, and, with a nice french press of coffee, made for the perfect ending to the perfect meal. Even though we were both about to hit the point of food coma, we didn't leave a stitch of chocolate on that plate and walked out smiling.

Let me quickly tell you the main reason why, above all, I find Evangeline to be the best restaurant in Portland at the time being. Aside from the incredible professionalism shown not only by the waitstaff but also the kitchen, Evangeline serves real, honest food. There are no frills, no gimmicks, no "South-Western Duck with Crispy Jalapeno Fritters and Hoppin'-Habenero-Blackberry Sauce." Erik Desjarlais and his Sous-Chef, Mitch Gerow are two of the best, most knowledgeable and experienced cooks I've ever met, and they consistently produce honest food with impeccable accuracy. Just about everything that comes out of their kitchen is made in-house with quality raw ingredients, be it the mayonnaise, the charcuterie and even some of the cheese. I've never had a bad plate of food from Evangeline, and rarely have I had one that hasn't caused me to change in some slight way my own approach to cooking.

If you'd like to have a meal similar to the one described above, I suggest you give Evangeline a call and inquire about these clabber-fed chickens. I never expect someone to take my word without question, but I can promise that you won't be disappointed.

Evangeline is located at 190 State St. in Portland, ME.

~E~

Have you eaten at Evangeline? Be sure to leave a comment about your experience!

This edition of Sunday Evening is definitely about as lite as it gets in terms of what I usually tend to cook on Sundays. Reason being, last night's meal at Evangeline - more on that in the next post - was about the only multi-course onslaught of sinful food that I could handle this weekend. So why not just steak and potatoes?

For some reason I rarely cook steak. I don't know if it's my tendency to try to eat *somewhat* healthy during the week so that I can gorge on bone marrow and other ridiculous things over the coarse of the weekend, but my experience with eating steak, at least recently, tends to be next to nothing. The fact is, I like to think I know how to cook a perfect steak, and after eating the one I fired tonight, I like to think that there's something to that statement. If anything, tonight's basic yet overly satisfying meal raised the question of why the hell I don't cook steak more often.

I picked up a nice boneless ribeye the other evening from Windy Hill Farm, a place that I have more than once professed my love for since starting this blog. The lamb they have is unbelievable, and their beef is nothing to scoff at either. This guy weighed about a lb., and was certainly enough for the lady and I for dinner.

I also happened to run into some chanterelles on a recent excursion to whole foods. Goddamn was I excited to see these mushrooms for the first time this year. I picked through them for 20 minutes, grabbed up nearly a half lb. and got the hell out of there before I spent the rest of my week's paycheck.

So...steak, and mushroooms - might as well throw in some mashed potatoes. I'm not going to tell you how to make mashed potatoes, because everyone can make them and everyone does it differently. Mine tend to include excessive amounts of butter and cream, and I usually go with baby reds or Yukon Golds. Regardless, make the potatoes that you're comfortable with and confident in.

The main attraction is easy as hell to prepare and perfect every time. Trim the steak of excess fat, rub it down in canola oil, massage in salt, pepper and a small amount of cayenne pepper and let hang out for a half-hour on the counter top. I don't need to tell you this - you already know this. But if you don't, pay attention, because this is how you end up with a perfectly cooked ribeye.

PREHEAT THE OVEN TO 400 DEGREES

Heat a dry, oven-safe pan (preferably cast iron) over medium high heat for about two minutes, and sear the steak for about 45 seconds on each side and on the edges, until nicely browned. Throw the whole pan in the oven and cook for about 3 minutes, flip, and cook for another 2 or 3 minutes, until the internal temperature of the steak hits 122 degrees (keep a thermometer nearby). Immediately pull the steak, tent it with foil and carve after 5-7 minutes.

Meanwhile, after giving the mushrooms a quick rinse/dry and chopping them laterally, heat a rather hefty amount of European butter in a small pan over medium heat and throw in the mushrooms once the foaming subsides. Saute until golden brown and throw in some salt and a few whole sprigs of marjoram. Cook for a few minutes, then take out marjoram springs, reserving as many leaves in the sauce as posstible. Pour out 60% of the fat, cook to caramelize and deglaze the pan with 4 oz of Allagash Tripel Ale. Cook down just like any reduction and add Allagash as needed, until a thick, syrupy sauce of chanterelle and Allagash goodness begins to form and coat the shit out of your spoon.

Time to plate: Throw down a nice even sphere of mashed potatoes in the center of the plate, prop half of the steak slices up against and around the circumference of the potatoes and top each plate with half of the chanterelle-Allagash reduction.

You'll enjoy this, I promise.

For desert? Um, chocolate cream pie from The Quality Shop, down the street. Hey - nobody's perfect.

~E~

I find lunch to be a hard thing to fix a critical eye on. Obviously, this depends upon where you're stuffing your face, as lunch at an upscale restaurant can certainly be worthy of scrutiny. Me, I prefer a nice, simple, relatively filling - and, on a good day - healthy meal to help me get through until dinner. Thus, my lunch reviews will not be as in-depth as those on dinner, but I still think it's worth knowing who does a decent sandwich around town.

The North Star Music Cafe, located in the hipster-coveted caveat that is lower Munjoy Hill is somewhat of a hidden gem. Granted, this is not the kind of place where one goes expecting to have their mind blown to unrecoverable shreds, but they no doubt provide a comfortable space to kick back with a cup of coffee and a sandwich.

The interior is inviting - a mixture of industrial and natural elements that give this quirky little coffee house a style all its own. Comfortable couches and chairs, decent tunes and an eclectic mix of customers make the North Star Music Cafe the perfect place to down a cup of coffee and recharge for the rest of the day.

Along with serving many different varieties of Jim's Organic coffee, the North Star Music Cafe serves up Sandwiches, Salads, Soups and occasional specials. Counter-service makes for a quick lunch, and a surprisingly stress-free atmosphere given the amount of lunchtime business they bring in.

When I visited the North Star Music Cafe on Monday afternoon, I ordered a mug of french roast coffee along with a sandwich called The Orion, which consisted of smoked turkey, greens, pesto-mayo, roasted red peppers and melted cheddar cheese served on honey whole-wheat bread, alongside a demi-salad. Although the sandwich didn't make me jump out of my chair and break a window in a fit of ecstasy, it was pretty good. By no means the best sandwich I've ever had, but pretty good. The demi-salad was refreshing and delicious, with a nice berry-vinaigrette to cut the bitterness of the greens. For $8, a guy can't really complain.

As I said, don't come to the North Star Music Cafe looking for a life-changing culinary epiphany. But if you're in the area and are looking for a relaxing place to chill with a cup of coffee and sandwich, don't hesitate to give it a try.

The North Star Music Cafe is located at 225 Congress St. in Portland, ME

~E~

Have you eaten at the North Star Music Cafe? Be sure to leave a comment about your experience!

Well, so much for my keeping promises. While many of you may have been clicking refresh all evening on Sunday waiting for this post (for your own sake, I certainly hope not), I was taking care of some family matters that needed to be tended to. Oh well; a few days late never hurt anyone...right? Anyways, dinner was indeed made, and if I must say so myself, turned out to be a really nice meal.

We started off with a small course of chorizo with white beans and sauteed rainbow Swiss chard from Freedom Farm in Freedom, ME. This is an incredibly easy first course to throw together, as well as being a really nice way to wake up the taste buds. To avoid crowding this post with recipes, you'll find hand written ones by following the links at the bottom of the post.




For our second course, I put together a simple salad of marinated mushrooms over a bed of pea shoots, topped off with some finely shaved Pecorino Romano sheep's milk cheese. This is the first time I've tried a dish like this, and I have to say it was delicious and a refreshing follow-up to the chorizo. The mushrooms - thinly sliced creminis - were marinated in olive oil and aged balsamic vinegar along with some fresh tarragon, thyme and salt/pepper. The trick to making this dish work is the time in the marinade - 4 to 6 hours in the fridge, covered, or no dice.

The third course consisted of some beautiful locally raised lamb chops I had in the freezer from Windy Hilly Farm in Windham, ME and I decided that it was time for them to meet their end (even though it was technically a bit too late for that). I gave them a little rub down with some cumin, coriander, salt and pepper and let them hang out in the fridge for an hour or so. Pan-seared w/ European butter and plated over roasted chickpeas and grape tomatoes, the chops came out perfectly cooked and thoroughly delicious, pairing well with the quick middle-eastern style yogurt sauce I threw together while trying to rescue the broken cork from a bottle of wine. My only complaint was that the chops were a little on the fatty side, and I probably should have trimmed them. Oh well.

Whenever I make a five course meal, the fourth is always a cheese plate. It's nice to know that most cheese mongers are willing to cut small pieces of cheeses that go for over $30/lb; otherwise, this plate would've cost me a week's pay. The first cheese (from left to right) was a ripened goat cheese from York Hill Farm in New Sharon, ME. This mild chevre had a spiral of vegetable ash running through its core and couldn't have been better. In fact, I would recommend it the most out of the three on the plate. Paired with a homemade wild berry jam, it turned out to be one hell of a taste.

The second cheese - paired with an Adriatic fig spread - was a Sottocenere from Veneto, Italy. Coated in an ash mixture laden with herbs, spices and white truffle oil and studded with little slivers of black truffle, this pasteurised cow's milk cheese is definitely worth a try, although the white-truffle oil gives it that a bit of a metallic aftertaste.

The third cheese, paired with local Tom's of Maine honey, was a Bayley Hazen Blue cheese from Jasper Hill Farms in Greensboro, VT, now famous for their excellent recent batch of Winnemere. This cheese is enough to knock you out of your chair, especially if you aren't fond of or well acquainted with the intensely sour flavor of a well-molded cheese. That said, it was delicious and I wouldn't hesitate to buy it again.

I consider myself a fairly decent cook. What I don't consider myself is a baker, and desserts are just not my thing. Regardless, I tried my hand at a creme caramel for the fifth course, and it turned out not half bad. Sure, I've had better just about every time I've ordered one from a decent restaurant, but not bad for a first try. The lady happens to be an excellent baker, and she approved, so it couldn't have been ALL that bad.

Recipes:
I
CHORIZO
sauteed swiss chard~white beans

II
SALAD
marinated mushrooms~pea shoots~pecorino romano

III
PAN-SEARED LAMB CHOPS
roasted chickpeas & grape tomatoes~yogurt sauce

IV
CHEESES (see description above; no real "recipe")

V
CREME CARAMEL (Not my recipe so why bother writing it out?)

~E~

The dreary ambiance of this misty summer morning couldn't have served as a better metaphor for Maine's growing season thus far this year. Most of us are aware that things have been off to a slow start as a result of the near constant rain we endured throughout the month of June and much of July. Although the weather has had a direct impact on the yields of many local farms, patrons and farmers alike remain vigilant, as seen by the overwhelming support from a community of folks willing to endure the rain in order to make an exchange with their local farmer.

I had a chance this morning to speak with three local farmers - all of whom are staples of both of the Portland Farmers Markets - regarding the recent weather and the effect it has had on their growing seasons. Rather than rehash their stories, I'll let them do the talking via the videos below.


Chris from Fishbowl Farm in Bowdoinham, ME.






Daniel from Freedom Farm in Freedom, ME




Richard from Rippling Waters Organic Farm in Steep Falls, ME

It goes without saying that these guys are having a rough season so far, which makes it all the more important for all of us to give support to our local farmers by shopping at farmers' markets rather than the supermarket. To find your nearest farmers' market, go here.

~E~

Wilco - Live at the Maine State Pier in Portland, ME 07.17.09

~E~

Just to let everyone know, you can now visit PFH by using a much more straightforward web address - www.portlandfoodheads.com. Get out the bookmarks!

Also - If you have any questions, concerns or ideas for the blog, please drop me a line via the new "Contact" button up top.

___________________________________________________

On another note, this weekend's edition of Sunday Evening will consist of a meal that I'll be putting together on Saturday so that you can have the recipes to cook with on Sunday morning/afternoon. It just makes more sense that way. Please feel free to send in pictures of adaptations, such as Shel's take on my Pan-Seared Cod.

Stay tuned in the afternoon for a scene report of the Saturday Portland Farmers' Market.

~E~

Let me preface this post by saying that, in the future, reviews will come with photos. As I faintly remember being a bit discombobulated on our mission to The Salt Exchange last Friday evening, naturally I forgot to bring along the camera. In light of a boring, wordy review (cause it's all about the pictures, man...), I've taken the liberty of drawing - by recollection only - pictures of the plates the old lady and I dined upon during our visit. While I'm not exactly known to keep my promises, rest assured that I will stop forgetting shit and start bringing my camera out to dinner with me from now on. I'm no Dali, and I see no reason why anyone should have to suffer through my poor attempts at drawing.

The Salt Exchange is one of the many new restaurants that have been popping up left and right lately in Portland. Located at 245 Commercial St., it's not exactly central to the Old Port shopping district yet certainly is within a short walking distance. The sign out front, tattered and weathered (though likely produced 2 months ago by a signage company) fits the modern, minimalist motif that the restaurant seems to be going for. Walking in to take in the sights of exposed brick walls, funky ceilings, a decent looking bar/lounge area and an open kitchen, The Salt Exchange looks promising. Looks can be deceiving however, especially this early in the game (they opened just under two months ago).

We were greeted by a nice, albeit overly anxious hostess who directed us past the bar into an adjacent room which houses the majority of the restaurant's tables. While some may be intrigued by the overhead track lighting and the sparse white walls offset with a series of framed photographs, it came off cold to both of us and did very little to set a relaxed mood. Oh well.

The Salt Exchange's M.O. is small plates. Each plate on their menu is relatively similar in size, and nothing reaches above the price point of $15. With menu items including lamb sweetbreads and duck prosciutto, this may sound like the gourmet's dream of eating like a king on a peasant's budget. Unfortunately, this is only about half true, maybe even one-third if you catch my drift.

I'll just go ahead and say it. Although this was the first time we've dined here (and I always like to give a restaurant at least a few tries before passing judgment), we both found more problems with our experience than we knew what to do with. Let's start from the beginning and take it from there.

First, the main room - where we were seated - is loud with a capital L. God forbid anyone go here on a first date, as the only thing you'll learn about your potential partner is their tolerance for noise and discomfort. We were "greeted" by an unfriendly waitress about 15 minutes after sitting down at 8:00 pm. As 8:00 was the only time we could get a table, I was already half-starving when we walked into the place, as I had been saving myself for what I had hoped to be a feast of "epic proportions" (hint hint).

We were explained the menu and how each course is approximately the size of an appetizer. I ordered a beer, and 15 minutes later it came. Notice the pattern here, as we're now at 8:30. The lady and I decided to start off with two items off of the amusé section of the menu - the Maine fish trio and the barbajuans. A few questions about the menu cemented the notion that the waitress had not done her homework, as she had to check on what exactly it was that constituted a "Maine fish trio" and had described the barbajuans as "sort of like stuffed pastries." Hmm...

About 20 minutes later, a precarious plate of 3 salts, butter and 2 pieces of bread arrived on a glass plate. I figured going in that, being "The Salt Exchange," there sure as hell had better be something salt-wise other than the shaker of table salt next to the dying candle. The 3 salts (maldon, smoked grey salt and what I believe was a Tibetan black salt) were a nice touch and each had a distinct and welcomed flavor, as did the small dollop of what seemed to be homemade butter. The real problem here was that the bread portion of our bread plate consisted of what can only be described as a half of a half slice of baguette and an olive oil crouton. Keep in mind there are two people eating here - this would have better fit an ill mouse with no appetite. For better or worse, I ended up with the crouton. Needless to say, this left us with about 2 tablespoons of excess salt, which might have been nice to keep around for the meal if it hadn't had been whisked away by an unassuming bus-buy. Oh well.

Here is the real issue at hand. Our first plates of food (which arrived about 3 minutes apart from one another), came at 9:15. 9:15! In case you aren't keeping track (and who could blame you), this is exactly an hour after we sat down. At this point, I'm so hungry that I catch myself picking up grains of salt off of the tablecloth that the bus-boy haphazardly let fall off the plate. Thank God!

The barbajuans arrived first, and let me say that, despite the ridiculous description from our waitress, they were actually incredibly delicious. Stuffed with spinach, goat cheese and herbs, these crisp little packets of goodness were a Godsend for someone who hadn't eaten since noon. Unfortunately, there were only three of them, each being the size of a Totino's pizza roll; maybe smaller. We finished these off in approximately 1 minute and 45 seconds - just enough time for the fish to swim it's way over to the table.

The Maine fish trio was actually a really nice little teaser plate. It consisted of three spoons, each holding a little nugget of goodness. The first spoon held a lobster gelée that was absolutely delicious; like a soft gumball with a core of lobster meat. Really nicely pulled off. The middle spoon was a scallop tartare, which I also really enjoyed, as it had just the right amount of kick to it and tasted distinctly of the sea, even rivaling a fresh Winter Point oyster in that regard. The third spoon held a small piece of seared bluefish which, while not being anything mind blowing, added a nice touch to the dish. All in all, this was my favorite dish of the night, and the crime of it all was that I had to split it with someone else, as it was definitely a one man job.

For our next course we had ordered a country paté, which arrived 20 minutes after our last plates had been cleared, so now we're going on 9:45. Amazingly, my girlfriend is a freak for paté, no matter what it consists of. You could prepare a paté of wharf rat, wheat grass and pencil shavings and she'd gladly lap it up. After one bite, she put her fork down, looked up at me and said "this is the worst paté I've ever had." I took the next bite and couldn't have agreed more. I can't quite put my finger on what the issue here was, only that it was bright pink in color with an extremely lean texture, rather than the fat-laced, melt-in-your-mouth, chest pain inducing paté that I've come to love so much over the years. I remember hearing about how the chef here is going for a "healthy comfort food" thing, but to take paté and turn it into the textural equivalent of cat food is not a smart move in my book.

So here it is 10:00 pm, and I'm thinking "Jesus, I would love to have something to eat tonight," and not even a word from the waitress about the pace of the service. Just when I was about ready to get up and ask the chef if he needed a hand with chasing down the lamb I had ordered, the two "entrees" arrived. My girlfriend had ordered the Ricotta Gnocchi, served with candied lemon, basil and a drizzle of Manicardi balsamic. I have to say that these little nuggets of joy were incredibly tasty, and worth every penny. The trouble is, there were only five of them. I suppose this makes sense, since they cost $8, but this was her "entrée" and I think she was a bit disappointed with the size of the plate, especially since we were both starving at this point. Great dish however; just didn't classify as a full plate of food.

I had ordered spice-rubbed lamb with lamb sweetbreads and an eggplant tart. I will say that the sweetbreads were out of this world and were the perfect combination of sweet and salty unctuousness. I sat and meditated on these for a good five minutes, as they were one of the best parts of the meal. The lamb itself was decent and nicely cooked, but the fact that there were only two measly pieces - each with a paltry crust of spices - really pissed me off for some reason. I know the plate was only $15, but come on; at least serve three slices. Things don't look right when served in twos, and it just isn't enough food to warrant ordering the dish, as the taste doesn't make up for the lack of quantity. The eggplant "tart" was more like a strange, chilled (or inexplicably cold, not sure) custard that didn't fit with the dish whatsoever. I found it nauseating and pushed it aside, ending my meal with another stray piece of salt from the tablecloth.

By the time our plates had been cleared, it was going on 10:20, and dessert was just not in the cards. I think by this point both of us were fed up with the portion sizes, atmosphere and terrible service at The Salt Exchange, and just wanted to get the hell home for a pint of ice cream and a couple glasses of wine. We paid, cordially thanked the waitstaff and walked out the door.

I am not looking to paint a nightmarish picture of The Salt Exchange; there is clearly a lot of talent in the kitchen and the owners seem to have their hearts in the right places. What I'm trying to say is that there are two problems that will keep me from coming back until they are remedied. One is the service, as no one should ever have to wait an hour for their first, 3-bite course to arrive, and a half hour in between each additional course. I don't care what the excuse is - the service itself will cause this place to go under if it does not change. I suspect it has something to do with a kitchen staff that hasn't quite gelled yet as a team, as the few minutes I spent waiting for a spot in the bathroom gave me a chance to check out the scene in the kitchen, and it reminded me of the panicky last 30 seconds of an Iron Chef battle, rather than a relaxed, confident kitchen.

The second issue is portion size. I am no stranger to "small plates," "tapas" or whatever the hell you want to call them. The Salt Exchange just happens to take this concept a little too far, as the "hot" (read: main) plates are too small to make a meal out of, even if you've ordered a few courses beforehand. There are other restaurants in Portland that subscribe to the small plate theory, and I happen to be a very big fan when it is pulled off correctly.

Should you avoid The Salt Exchange? Not unless you want to rely 100% on my words, which I wouldn't recommend to anyone. This is a review of a particular experience, and you may well go tomorrow evening and have the best meal of your life. Just don't make any plans for after dinner, as you likely won't make it out on time.

The Salt Exchange is located at 245 Commercial St. in Portland, ME.

~E~

Have you eaten at The Salt Exchange? Be sure to leave a comment about your experience!

Welcome to the first edition of Sunday Evening, a weekly series brought to you by Portland Food Heads. Here's the deal: Each Sunday evening I will post a recap of a dinner I threw together just hours before, with recipes and a few words about each dish. The idea is to motivate people to reconnect with what Sunday evening is all about - choice hours to spend with friends, family and a few plates of good food.

With that out of the way, let's get started...

Let me begin by saying that I do not take Sunday dinner lightly. With work M-F and Saturdays usually reserved for dining out, excessive drinking or both, Sunday happens to be the only time that I really get to relax and focus on cooking a decent meal at home anymore. As a result, it's not unlikely for me to spend the day planning a meal and throwing together four or five courses of food. Tonight it was only two, as time didn't allow for much else.

The first course this evening was a pan-seared cod over sauteed garlic scapes, spring onions and prosciutto, topped off with dollop of romesco sauce. This picture doesn't do it justice at all - click on it for hi-res.

Garlic scapes are the flowering seed stack of the garlic bulb and happen to be one of my favorite seasonal treats. Fortunately for us, they have just started showing up at the farmers market. Their spicy, pungent flavor is reminiscent of a cross between garlic, green beans and asparagus. Commonly used as a base for pesto, they are just as delicious when sauteed.

This is a hell of a dish for any occasion, and is easy and fast enough to throw together after coming home from work with a throbbing headache - especially if you have the romesco sauce already on hand. Recipe follows.

Pan-Seared Cod
garlic scapes ~ spring onions ~ la quercia prosciutto ~ romesco sauce

Romesco provides the perfect contrast to the spicy garlic scapes beneath the fish. To save space and a story, follow this recipe.

Also, be sure not to overcook the cod - pull it when it reaches 130 degrees.
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10 Garlic Scapes, flower removed, cut into 1/2" pieces
1/4 cup spring onions, chopped
1/8 cup red onion, chopped
2 slices La Quercia (or similarly dank) prosciutto, cut into small squares
1 Tablespoon European butter
2 Tablespoons good olive oil
2 eight oz. portions of cod, 1" thick
Salt/Pep

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Melt butter in small skillet over medium heat. After foaming receeds, combine first four ingrediants and saute for eight or nine minutes - or until the scapes are tender yet still crispy - constantly moving the pan. Set aside & keep warm.

Meanwhile, heat the oil over medium-high heat in another skillet, preferably nonstick. Apply a generous amount of salt and pepper to both sides of the fish. When the oil shimmers, carefully slip the fish into the pan and cook until golden brown on the bottom. If the fish starts to stick, dislodge a pit and shake the pan vigorously back and forth for a few seconds.

Using a spatula (and your hands to guide the flip), carefully flip the fish over and move the pan to the oven, where it will continue to cook for about 4 or 5 minutes. Pull fish when the temperature reaches 130 degrees. Do not cook the fish until it "flakes easily," as it will be overcooked by this point.

Plate the fish on top of the saute and top with a dollop of romesco. Serve immediately.


My favorite way to follow a dish like the pan-seared cod is with a simple plate of cheeses.

The nice thing about learning to put together a cheese plate is that after you figure out what works and what doesn't there is a ton of room for creativity. I usually strive to incorporate three different cheeses - 1 cow, 1 sheep, 1 goat, each with its own accompaniment, along with some sort of cracker or toast.

In this case, there were only two. Pecorino Ginepro is an italian semi-hard sheep's milk cheese that gets a nice bath of balsamic vinegar and juniper berries. At roughly $33/lb, it's a small luxury that tastes so good that it almost warrants it's price tag. Starts off dry and literally melts in your mouth after a few seconds. Amazing cheese. Paired here with a fig spread and a little bit of Tom's of Maine Honey, available at both Portland Farmers Markets.

On the other side of the plate is a mascarpone cheese paired with raspberries and blackberries. Yea, I know it's overdone. It's also one of the most refreshing ways to end a meal, so as far as I'm concerned, it can stay.

If you can still track down a little bit of Jasper Hill Farms Winnemere, by all means substitute it for the mascarpone. Chances are you won't find a better soft cheese than that this year and it works incredibly well with fresh fruit. Sadly, I haven't seen any around lately, as I believe it may have run it's course, traded in for their also incredible bayley hazen blue. Look for that one on next week's cheese course.

Throw a few decent crackers in the center of the plate and serve.

~E~

Welcome to Portland Food Heads - a blog for and about the good folks and even better food that our small city has to offer.

While the format of Food Heads will likely change periodically, the goal here is to bring together the members of the peninsula community through art, music and, of course, food.

Among other things, Portland Food Heads aims to provide its readers with news, reviews, recipes and various banter, with a focus on the wonderfully vibrant area known as Greater Portland, ME.

Enjoy, and don't hesitate to give feedback.

~E~