Portland Food Heads

I feel somewhat divided in reviewing Leonardo's Pizza, or Leo's as I've known it ever since my first week in college at UVM. In one way, the place embodies debauchery and drunken evenings, as most of these would end at 3:30 am with a "Leo's session." After graduation, I thought I had survived the near-death experience that comes as a result of too many Leo's sessions in one week, only to find out that Leo himself had followed me home from the Queen City and set up shop on Forest Ave. "He's a sly bastard," I thought to myself as I peered nervously out the car window the first time I saw them putting up the sign, "but I won't fall for his empty promises again. Not this time."

And here I am, reviewing Leonardo's Pizza. To call it Leo's at this point would be a bastardization of the word's meaning, as the 3:30 am Leo's sessions are long behind me. Even so, I still appreciate a pie from there every once in a while, especially when its too cold, snowy or rainy to get up the motivation to drive to the grocery.

Leonardo's Pizza prides itself on the quality of their process, as they use local products, organic wheat flour and VT mozzarella. Who knows what's true and what isn't, but it would be a mistake to compare this franchise with Domino's or Little Caesar's. The ingredients are definitely a step above most other pizza shops in their tier, and the more creative offerings, such as the "Louisiana Cajun Creation," set them apart from the herd.

When rating "normal" pizza in Portland (ie: not Flatbread or Bonobo), I stick to my all-time favorite - hot Italian sausage, mushroom and onion. While I have yet to find anywhere in town that serves this incarnation up better than Otto, Leonardo's is definitely not a bad alternative. I've had enough of their pies to know that they are consistent, and the flavor is always spot on. Although the pizzas somehow show up at the door within ten minutes of ordering, I've never ended up with a lemon. The crust is consistently crispy, the cheese is delicious and the sausage always has great flavor. The only element that doesn't quite sit well with me is their tomato sauce. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but the only way I can describe it is that it isn't "bright" enough. I think it needs sugar, but that's just me.

Coming full circle, from drunken nights to lights out at 10, Leonardo's Pizza still has some appeal, albeit for much different reasons. They're located at 415 Forest Ave. in Portland, ME.

~E~

And so a new year begins for Portland Food Heads, albeit a bit fashionably late. I've got a lot of new ideas kicking around my head about what will stay, what will change, and what new additions will start showing up on the blog in the near future, and I'm looking forward to 2010 being a pretty kick-ass year for both the blog and the Portland food community in general.

For 2010's first edition of Sunday Evening, I had originally planned on doing a simple roast chicken with some hearty, winter-laced sides; comfort food at its very best. In typical fashion, however, I took a left turn and ended up in semi-authentic French Acadia. God help those who go down this road, as one simple mistake can spell disaster.

Jambalaya, in just about any incarnation, has always been one of my favorite dishes; especially for a cold winter's night. Depending mainly upon who you ask and what day of the year it is, you'll likely come up with 100 different variations on a recipe that has since its inception been a chameleon, not unlike cassoulet, or even meatloaf. Ask your mother (or grandmother if you happen to be so lucky) how she makes her meatloaf; I'll bet you mine does it differently.

This is why I can't exactly tell you how I make jambalaya, whether or not you would like it, or how much sodium or saturated fat (eesh...) the plate to the left consists of. It is a chameleon, and I'm not sure I've ever made it the same way twice. This incarnation consisted of some beautiful fresh Maine shrimp, currently at the height of their season. These little nuggets of the deep are the most addicting water dwellers east of oysters, and add a briny yet mellow note to just about anything you through them at. Paired with a nice andouille sausage (and perhaps some shredded chicken if one was inclined), they make for a delectable Jambalaya. Aside from that, there isn't much left to say. I go heavy on the heat and use fire-roasted tomatoes to give the stew a deep, smokey flavor. The rest is pretty much by the book.

So even though I'm dying for a roast chicken as I write this, I think it's fair to say that, aside from another beer, there isn't a single thing I ever need while eating a bowl of Jambalaya.

~E~

Just so everyone is clear, Portland Food Heads is still alive. The post-holiday workload has been rather insane and I need this week to catch up. Posts will resume on Monday the 11th.

~E~