Sunday, September 27, 2009

Pom's Thai Taste

Pom's Thai Taste

571 Congress Streets


Thai restaurants have a history of catering to vegetable enthusiasts.  While at some American restaurants, vegetarians are still forced to call the salad or perhaps the quesadilla appetizer (hold the chicken, please) dinner, Thai restaurants have long been offering choices, and healthy ones at that.  Pom's Thai Taste continues this legacy.

Rattanaphorn Boobphachati—or “Pom,” as she's known by patrons who enjoy her food—is at the helm of a budding greater Portland Thai restaurant empire.  With three locations—one on Cottage Road in South Portland, another on Western Avenue near the Maine Mall, and one on Congress Street in the heart of Portland's Arts District—Pom is making a name for herself as a Thai food maven.  I recently lunched at Pom's Thai, the one near the mall, and for just $8 was treated to a small salad, main dish, and hearty scoop of brown rice.   

The décor at Pom's Thai Taste is polished.  The room is bright—cozy chairs are covered in white fabric, tables are adorned with white tablecloths, and lights illuminate white walls.    Still, traditional Thai flavor is brought to the space through photographs of Thailand's King Bhumibol Adulyadej and Queen Sirikit Kitiyakara.  It is a clean fusion of tradition and sophistication.

With the opening of The Green Elephant, a vegetarian pan-Asian restaurant, local Thai restaurants have had to work harder to maintain their vegetarian clientele.  Pom leads the charge with her extensive menu, which features over 100 selections.  The word “menu” is perhaps an understatement for the culinary literature provided at Pom's.

I was handed three separate menus.  One was the main menu, which was about six pages long, another was the vegetarian and noodle one, and the last was the sushi menu.  Virtually every item has a photograph of the dish, which in part explains the length of the menus.  Pictures of the food, however, are common in Thailand—when I visited Bangkok and Chiang Mai two summers ago, the menu of every eatery I patronized had pictures of the food.  I was pleased to see a Portland restaurant bring this practice to America.  

After a lengthy perusal of the menus, I ordered a cup of Jasmine Tea ($1.95) and then settled on the Jasmine Rice Ball ($6.95), an item from the vegetarian menu, for an appetizer.  For my main dish, I chose Vegetable Delight with Tofu ($9.95), which appeared on the main menu.  Vegetable Delight was also available on the vegetarian menu for $10.95, but this version featured crispy soy chicken instead of tofu, and Michael Pollan has successfully persuaded me to opt for less processed options.  Still, it was pleasing to see Pom's making a deliberate effort to court vegetarian palates.    

Adding to the vegetarian appeal is the transparency of these menus.  The main menu begins with a basic overview of Thai sauces and flavorings, and it is very straightforward about the ingredients in each recipe.  Like many Asian restaurants, Pom's Thai Taste also has a legend that clearly marks dishes that are vegetarian or spicy.  Throughout the menu, there are notes that remind diners which sauces do and do not contain fish or oyster sauce.  Eating vegetarian at Pom's Thai Taste is easy and fun—the customer knows exactly what's in the food and the choices are many.

The Jasmine Rice Balls arrived; they resembled golf balls that had done the dirty with some tempura.  They were hot and crispy but tasted like sushi rice with Thai spices.  The amalgamation was good, though: red curry paste, red onions, ginger, coconut flakes, scallions, lime leaves, and peanuts clung triumphantly to each sticky grain, making the combination more dynamic than discordant.  Two sweet and spicy sauces served in a small dish in a shape reminiscent of a yin-yang brightened the spiciness of the balls.     

The Vegetable Delight was a perfect meal.  The vegetables had been cooked to a crisp bite; not a single limp pepper appeared on my plate.  The garlic sauce was savory and sweet and nicely complemented the brown rice served alongside my meal.  Afterward, I felt energized and satisfied.  I felt I had consumed a fairly healthy meal.

Pom's Thai Taste is my favorite Thai food in Portland.  Yes, the competition is estimable—Chiang Mai on lower Temple Street serves up a fine Pad Thai, and Veranda Thai has earned the Portland Food Map's highest ranking—but the number of vegetarian options at Pom's Thai Taste is a force with which other restaurants must reckon.   

Tuesday, August 4, 2009


46 Pine Street

I'll admit at the outset that Bonobo is my favorite Portland pizza place. I'll also warn you that I can't help but compare Bonobo to Flatbread Pizza. This is because the quality of Bonobo's pizzas is as good or better than that of Flatbread's, for, like Flatbread, its pizzas are made from fresh, zesty ingredients and cooked in a wood-fired oven. Plus Bonobo has just as many--if not more--fresh salads than Flatbread does. Bonobo's location makes it that much better. Nestled in the heart of the West End, Bonobo escapes the buzz and long lines so common to Flatbread. There may be no ocean view, outdoor seating, or air conditioning, but Bonobo exudes a pleasing blend of neighborhood charm and hipster entrepreneurship that no other Portland pizzeria offers.

Bonobo is also remarkably accommodating. While I lounged with my friend Jen, her baby Celia, and her brother Andy on the Eastern Promenade, we confessed to a mutual craving for wood-fired pizza. Our concern, of course, lay with Celia; at a mere 8 months of age, dinner at a restaurant is challenging for her. Jen worried that the time it took to sup would result in crying and fussiness on Celia's part. "See if we can place our order before we arrive," Jen suggested. I figured it wasn't standard procedure, but I tried anyway. The woman who answered the phone said, "We don't usually do this, but..." She let us place our order. Dear readers, remember: this was not SOP.

When we arrived, our pizzas were already waiting. They were nice and hot, too. Jen and I had ordered a Verde ($15), which is a pizza with pesto, spinach, roasted onions, leeks, parmesan cheese, and ricotta cheese. Andy ordered a Gruyere (also $15), which features potatoes, prosciutto ham, spinach, leeks, gruyere cheese, parmesan cheese, and roasted garlic butter. A note to compassionate carnivores: all of Bonobo's meats contain no antibiotics, hormones, or nitrates.

As for me, I usually order the Goat (dried tomatoes, roasted red peppers, spinach, rosemary, goat cheese, parmesan cheese, and roasted garlic butter) or the Taleggio (taleggio cheese, smoke roasted tomato, leeks, garlic butter, and arugula), so I was excited to try something other than "the usual." We dug in, sipping chilled white wine, while the kids one table over began entertaining Celia.

The Verde was just as good as other Bonobo pizzas I've sampled. The crust was crispy on the outside, just kissed by the smoked flavor of flames. The toppings were ample, with generous globs of ricotta cheese piled atop the pie. The roasted onion and leeks worked nicely with the cheeses. Though this could be considered a white pizza, it was still plenty moist, for the fresh pesto and roasted onions ensured that this was not a dry dish. Much to our delight, our four-year old table neighbor continued to coo and giggle to Celia.

Once our meal culminated and the bill was paid (thanks, Andy!), we packed up our stuff and headed for the car. This was when Jen and I spotted the ice cream window at the back of Bonobo. We wanted some! Unfortunately, a sign informed us that Bonobo closes its ice cream window on Mondays. As we absorbed our disappointment, two more parties came up to the ice cream window, hoping to having a sweet treat as well. We broke them the bad news. That's when one couple told us that Bonobo usually features three or four flavors made especially for Bonobo by Smiling Hill Farm, a local creamery. Jen and I pouted at each other. Local creameries are just our style.

Of course I'll go back to Bonobo. This is my fourth or fifth visit there, after all. Its rustic but artsy ambiance and creative menu hit the spot every time. Until then, I'm going to cruise the corner of Pine and Brackett with my eyes fixed on that ice cream window.

Thursday, July 30, 2009



111 Middle Street | Portland, ME


I had wanted to go to Bresca for a long time. My friends recommended it; local reviewers raved about it; even my foodie chiropractor extolled its glories. So in March, I made a reservation at Bresca to celebrate my boyfriend Leon's birthday. When I asked about vegetarian options, the woman on the phone informed me that she would personally ensure that I had a few choices. This made me feel so welcome! Unfortunately, Bresca had to cancel our reservation because of a burst pipe. Then I tried to dine at Bresca in June. When I called to make my reservation, I again inquired about vegetarian main dishes; the woman on the phone told me that there were none that evening, so I decided to go somewhere else.

Finally, on July 11th, the stars aligned: Leon and I dined at Bresca. We had made our reservation two days in advance, having been warned that the restaurant only has five tables. We entered Bresca, which turned out to be simultaneously small and airy. One of the waitresses led us to our table, which was about five steps from the door. Leon and I smiled at each other, as it seemed a little funny to be “led” such a short distance.

Our first priority was getting some wine on our table. After a close reading of the wine selections, we finally spotted the least expensive wine ($8.50/glass). It was on the back of the list, written by hand, as if added for the likes of Leon and me. The waitress, bless her heart, formally presented that wine bottle to us each time we ordered another glass. We appreciated the respect.

Though the menu did not contain as many vegetarian options as I had hoped, it proved enticing. As a small appetizer, we ordered the Local Honeycomb and Pecorino Romano ($4). I was in the midst of a craving for fresh greens, so I also ordered a Salade ($9). For my main dish, I ordered the Risotto ($26), which I was surprised to see cost more than Leon's New York Steak ($25). Note that the Risotto was one of two vegetarian entrees on the menu (the other was a gnocchi dish). We were also interested in ordering the Toc ($10) as an appetizer; it was described as “smoked ricotta, creamy polenta, royal trumpet mushrooms, radicchio, and lardo,” and I was curious to see if they'd leave something like “lardo” out per request. The dish sounded genuinely tasty, but the meal already cost enough. We didn't order the Toc.

The Local Honeycomb and Pecorino Romano turned out to be a tiny serving. That's okay—it was supposed to be. After all, it was in a section labeled “before.” It was also refreshing to be appetized rather than filled by our appetizer. On the plate was a large sliver of cheese and about two tablespoons of honeycomb (which looked a lot like orange marmalade). We sliced the cheese and then placed tiny spoonfuls of the honeycomb on it; the combination of sweet and savory, creamy and gelatinously crunchy, was satisfying to the mouth.

My salad was made up of mixed greens and thinly sliced radishes. Nasturtium blossoms brought sweetness to the bitter greens and radishes, and the salad was dressed with a light vinaigrette. It was refreshing and simple; it was a salad.

The risotto was the star of my meal. It was served with an array of flavorful mushrooms and topped with a generous spray of Perigord black truffle, an expensive truffle popular in Italy and France. The arborio rice itself was prepared in a rich vegetable broth, and this broth combined with the mushrooms, generous slices of fresh parmesan, and black truffle waltzed languidly upon my tongue. It was incredible.

For dessert, I ordered a Panna Cotta with fresh strawberries, raspberries, and melon in a fruity broth. This proved a light and invigorating complement to the risotto's richness.

I do wish there had been a few more choices on the vegetarian front, but what we did have was delectable. In the end, our bill came to around $150. It was a pricey meal. Yes, there are places in Portland where one could have a comparable meal for less money, but I'll be honest: this was an excellent dining experience. I'll be back.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

GRO Cafe

GRO Cafe

437 Congress Street


Its full name is GRO Grassroots Organic Juicebar/Cafe/Chocolatier. As a vegetarian and self-proclaimed food critic, I felt a keen responsibility to visit and report upon an eatery that my friends described as “raw and vegan.”

I confess that I am not an expert on the tenets of the raw food diet. For the completely uninitiated, I can tell you this: for food to be considered raw, it can be cooked at a temperature no higher than 112 degrees. The idea is to preserve living enzymes, thus optimizing the health benefits of the food. GRO Cafe aims to do this and more. It wants to use local ingredients as often as possible; all of its ingredients are organic; it even produces its own raw vegan chocolates. GRO rumors are swirling about the city: a fellow food critic claims that GRO is cultivating its own mushrooms in a back room, and a different reviewer told me that it is fresh herbs that are growing. GRO's own website says that it has its own organic garden in Westbrook. If these reports are true, GRO focuses on fresh, local, and organic like no other Portland eatery.

So it came that Renee and I ordered takeout; luckily for me, Renee already had a menu on hand. And what a menu it is! It is a vegan's and vegetarian's playground. I could order anything on the menu. This surprised me, as some of my friends had told me that the menu was not very extensive; while GRO's menu is on the smaller side, a vegetarian can order any dish on it. Most restaurants leave vegetarians with one or two options for their main dishes—for vegans, the pickings are even slimmer. I found myself overwhelmed by the options GRO's menu offered. Overwhelmed in a good way.

GRO's cafe space is casual. It's a place from where one would order take-out or grab a quick lunch. It is clean and spacious, but it also has a hippie-who-wishes-he-were-a-graffiti-artist feel to it. The empty walls could use some artwork.

I first ordered a smoothie from their drink menu. I selected the Gaia-Sphere ($7 for a large), which, according to the menu, contains cashew and coconut milks, strawberries, kola nuts, blueberries, hemp seeds, bee pollen, dates, and ice. Yum. For my lunch, I ordered the Terra Burger, which GRO's menu describes as “A savory burger made with sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, carrot, and a hint of smoked-paprika” ($8). I also selected a chocolate to nibble upon while my lunch was assembled.

The chocolate was a large heart filled with coconut. The chocolate had good flavor, although the consistency was a little too fudgy (perhaps a side effect of one of Maine's rare warm days). The coconut center tasted fresh. I will definitely be going back to GRO for chocolates.

The Gaia-Sphere proved fresh, invigorating, and tasty. In fact, it was a meal in itself.

Staying true to its mission, GRO packaged my meal in a recycled, biodegradable container. Inside, my burger was posed in between two interesting pieces of bread. I've never seen bread quite like this before. The “bread” resembled herbed crepes more than bread or a bun. This is probably because they are live pieces of bread made from sprouted grains. They were tasty! The burger itself was also a treat: its nutty texture combined with the fresh pickles was a delight.

I like GRO Cafe. It's a place where vegetarians are the rule rather than the exception. I don't have to ask anything special to be made for me; I don't have to ask if the soup contains chicken stock. GRO made me feel like my visit had been anticipated. I will be eating at GRO again—very soon.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

El Rayo Taqueria

El Rayo Taqueria

101 York Street

Portland, Maine


El Rayo Taqueria has one thing that most Portland restaurants do not: a parking lot.  So although the lot was, for some mysterious reason, filled with City of Portland trucks and tractors, I was easily able to secure a spot.  Amid an implacable net of mist and fog, I entered El Rayo Taqueria.

Once inside, I was immediately pleased by the bright décor.  El Rayo Taqueria's decorative style—and I intend this in the nicest way—reminds me of a franchise or chain restaurant.  By that, I mean that colors, shapes, and other visual themes repeat throughout the restaurant, creating a uniform, tidy, and colorful ambiance.  The restaurant even sells merchandise—I spied an El Rayo Taqueria belt buckle in a display case.  Moreover, Spanish language education seems to be a key ingredient of this establishment; several signs contained both Spanish and English phrasings.  Further bolstering this eatery's flair is a bar where customers can eat lunch while watching the kitchen staff work.    

The menu included a good number of vegetarian choices.  I was disappointed to see, however, that most vegetarian options lacked protein; by this, I mean that few to none of the vegetarian entrees featured beans and/or rice.  For example, the one vegetarian burrito is described as: “Grilled portabello mushrooms, caramelized onions & poblano peppers with salsa.”  This sounds delicious, but these ingredients force health-conscious vegetarians to order side dishes.  Personally, I sometimes go out for Mexican food precisely because of the protein fix it promises.  Don't expect to get that from El Rayo Taqueria.

After waiting in line for a little too long—the cashier seemed confused--I ordered the Tacos Venduras ($3.75), which the menu described as: “Chile dusted grilled vegetables with smoky tomato salsa & pickled onion.”  I thought this sounded delicious.  I also ordered some rice ($1.50) and a large guacamole ($2.20).  I was very pleased that my meal, in total, was around seven or eight dollars.

Then my meal was delivered to me.  I must say that I was disappointed—and surprised—by the portions.  My taco (singular) was comprised of a store-bought tortilla with about a half a cup of toppings on it.  I say a half cup because the veggies were fluffed up—it was probably closer to a third of a cup or a quarter of a cup.  My side of rice was also small—about a third of a cup of loose, not packed, rice. Fortunately, the guacamole was sizable—also a third of a cup—but I worried that I would not have enough food to act as a vehicle for this, my favorite condiment.  As the friendly runner set these items on the table before me, I said, “Wow.  That's small.”  With a smile, he asked if I wanted another [taco].  I did want another, but I looked at the line that had formed and the befuddled cashier behind the counter and realized that “another” would be a really long wait.  I'll say this honestly: I am not someone who expects super-sized portions.  I appreciate a small meal.  So for me to say that the servings were small means that they were indeed small.  Apparently, El Rayo Taqueria's patrons are supposed to know that the menu is a la carte.  No one told me.

The taco itself tasted fine.  It wasn't as flavorful as I would have liked it to be—I think I was expecting a lot more of a kick, with the smoky salsa and pickled onion that the menu promised.  The rice was fine.  It was rice.  The guacamole was also okay.  I heard diners near me saying, “Mmm, this guacamole is so good!”  I wanted to interrupt and point out that it was fine, not “good.”  The guacamole's color was a brownish chartreuse instead of bright green, indicating that it wasn't the freshest batch.  Furthermore, I think the guacamole could have used more garlic.  It was, however, creamy and appeared to be made from actual avocados, which is a good move.  That being writ, there is better guacamole to be found in Portland. 

After finishing my meal, I started to bus my table.  This was no easy task.  The trash receptacle and dish depositories were directly beside the long line of customers, and I found that both interpersonal and navigational skills were needed in order for me to successfully clean up as expected.  Cords separating the dining area from the line area made this task even more difficult; fellow customers had nowhere to move, as they were cordoned off from the free space.  Moving the bussing area would help El Rayo Taqueria with the flow of traffic.  

I know from reading other blogs that authenticity is a criterion that many people use to judge a Mexican restaurant or any “ethnic” establishment, for that matter.  Some people will claim that a restaurant serves “authentic” Mexican foods, and others will claim that the same restaurant does not.  I will not engage in this debate.  Yes, I have been to Mexico.  I was there for a month, and in that month, I learned that food varies depending on who makes it.  Because of this and other travel experiences, I don't believe in culinary authenticity.  Chefs vary.  Additionally, I enjoy innovation; I will not bemoan an “inauthentic” meal if the chef's interpretation brings new or lively flavor to the dish.  

Unfortunately for El Rayo Taqueria, I didn't feel like the chef brought very much flavor to my meal at all.  I could have made a far more impressive—and appeasing--meal at home.    


Monday, June 15, 2009



468 Fore Street

Portland, ME


Paciarino is the Old Port's new darling.  Since its beginnings in early January, Paciarino has quickly amassed loyal foodie fans.  Part of Paciarino's appeal lies in its ownership: the husband-and-wife proprietors Fabiana Da Savino and Enrico Barbiero moved to Maine from Milano, Italy in August of 2008.  The couple's experience as restaurant owners in Italy lends Paciarino an authenticity that few Portland Italian restaurants can boast.  

Upon entering Paciarino, my party immediately noticed how bright the space was.  The walls were painted sunny yellow and spring green, and the lighting was medium to bright.  This was a refreshing change, for many of Portland's finer eateries opt for low lighting.  One of my dining companions also pointed out that the “chandeliers” in the room were actually small colanders hanging upside-down.  Cute.  There was a clean, open kitchen on our left, and to the far left, glass-front refrigerators filled with what I can only assume are some of Paciarino's take-home purchases.  You see, Paciarino isn't just an eat-in place; you can purchase pasta and sauces there and cook for yourself at home.  It's also a place where you can take cooking classes.  These multiple uses made the space feel slightly informal but sweet and welcoming nonetheless.

After being seated, we were greeted by our very warm and friendly waitress.  She seemed enthusiastic to answer our questions.  The waitress's willingness to help us was essential, because as it turned out, the menu was written in Italian.  I write “was” because our waitress is currently helping the owners write the menu in English.  We needed her to translate virtually every item for us, and she was very patient with us as we asked her about everything.  I will admit that there is something exotic about ordering from a menu that is written in another tongue, but from the standpoint of a vegetarian food critic, it put me in a position where I had to ask a lot of questions.  Apparently everyone asks a lot of questions at Paciarino, for our waitress was exceptionally obliging.  

The wine menu was small but sufficient.  Of the red wines listed, two were available by the glass.  I ordered a glass of the La Garia Nero d'Avola ($6).  Much to my pleasure, the menu contained plenty of meatless options—and by options, I don't mean that I chose the one vegetarian appetizer and the one vegetarian entree available—I mean, I actually had to make a decision.  Fellow vegetarians know how disappointing it can be when a menu chooses your meal for you.  For our appetizers, my party decided to split the Torta Salata della Casa ($6.75), which the waitress explained to us was not actually a salad but more of a dinner torte.  For my main dish, I ordered the Ravioli Goat Cheese al Pomodoro ($14.75).  My friend Elise ordered the Maccheroni al Ragu di Tonno ($13.75), which is actually Da Savino and Barbiero's take on macaroni and cheese, and Elise's friend Joni ordered the Ravioli Milano al Pomodoro ($14.75).  We sipped wine and enjoyed dipping crusty bread in olive oil as we waited for our orders to arrive.  

The Torta Salata della Casa arrived as two torte-sized slices, which in layperson's terms means that they looked like two pieces of pie.  Each torta was of a different flavor but framed with a traditional white flour crust.  The first torta was filled with a tangy ricotta mixture.  The second was comprised of a spinach filling that had a subtle taste of nutmeg.  We enjoyed this dish—which was served at room temperature—and probably would have liked just one more torta.

Once we finished our appetizers, the waitress promptly brought us our main dishes.  I was eager to taste the pasta that so many people had raved about.  The pomodoro sauce was fresh and zesty, but the ravioli themselves were a bit ho-hum.  They seemed overcooked; I prefer a more al dente presentation.  Furthermore, the filling seemed bland and not at all what one would expect from a goat cheese ravioli.  At this point, my dining companions and I decided to swap a few bites.  Elise's Maccheroni al Ragu di Tonno proved the best choice of our three dishes; this entree had been prepared with a taleggio cream sauce, infusing the rigatoni with a delicious and creamy bite.  Tossed with the rigatoni were several kalamata olives, and a generous application of pepper cut the richness of the taleggio.  Joni's dish, however, genuinely surprised me.  After sampling her ravioli, I realized that our entrees had been switched; Joni had been eating the Goat Cheese al Pomodoro, and I had been eating the Ravioli Milano al Pomodoro.  The switch explained my disappointment.  Joni graciously offered to swap plates with me, but I couldn't do it.  Hers was better than mine, and taking it away would just be mean (we were just introduced that evening).  I will admit that the goat cheese ravioli was tastier than the more traditional Milano ravioli, but Joni's entree also seemed a trifle overcooked.  

Though our dinner servings were generous, we ordered dessert like good little food critics.  The dessert menu contained many enticing choices, including tiramisu.  We settled on the Boccondivino ($7.25) because its named sounded exotic.  We also picked the Boccondivino because it sounded easy to share.  This dessert turned out to to be the star of our meal.  The Boccondivino arrived as five tiny cookies; each one was about the size and shape of a cherry tomato (do not fear: they tasted nothing like cherry tomatoes).  Each Boccondivino consisted of two tiny chocolate cookies with rich, nutmeg-infused whipped cream sandwiched between them.  We could have eaten at least four more apiece.  They were small but outstanding.

I will try Paciarino again.  The space was inviting and the service was beyond compare.  I do confess that I prefer other Italian restaurants in Portland—there are so many marvelous ones!--but I like Paciarino's warmth, and I suspect that there are other dishes I should try.  Let's keep Paciarino in business: we need to continue attracting the likes of De Savino and Barbiero to our hungry little peninsula.        

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Fore Street

Fore Street

288 Fore Street | Portland, ME

Fore Street is renowned as one of Portland's greatest eateries.  In fact, people “from away” often visit Portland just to dine there. It ranked 16th in Gourmet Magazine's 2002 listing of America's Top 50 restaurants, and then made Gourmet Magazine's Top 50 list yet again in 2007.  In 2004, Fore Street Chef Sam Hayward was named the Best Chef in the Northeast by the James Beard Foundation.  Fore Street is also known for its use of local, organic ingredients.  For a foodie like me, all of these accolades piqued my curiosity.  Still, no local Portlander had ever recommend Fore Street to me.  Now I know why.

It's because Fore Street is good at what it does.  Unfortunately, it doesn't do enough.

Entering the restaurant, our party was greeted by Fore Street's cavernous dining room, which is actually a renovated warehouse.  We were then led to our spacious booth.  From our booth, we were able to  view Fore Street's open kitchen.  I was impressed by the cleanliness and efficiency of the kitchen space.  All of the workers—dressed in white—moved quietly and even peacefully about their tasks.  Nestled to the left of the kitchen was Fore Street's illustrious wood-fired oven.  This warm, inviting setting helped detract from the pervasive aroma of grilled meat.

Once we were seated, our waitress promptly greeted us.  She was friendly and knowledgeable about the menu.  After the waitress brought us a nice bottle of wine, our party pondered our choices.  While several of my friends excitedly discussed the menu—a menu that featured over 30 meat-based entrees—I slowly absorbed the fact that not a single vegetarian entree was listed.  The much acclaimed Fore Street turned out to be a piece-your-dinner-together-with-appetizers-and-side-dishes kind of place. 

As a result of the dearth of meatless options, I asked the waitress if it would be possible for the chef to throw together a special dish for me.  She tersely replied—in a tone that was almost like a retort—that no, we don't do that here.  I'll be honest: it's the first time I've ever gotten that reply.  Of course, this is also the first time in many years that I've been to a restaurant that lacks a vegetarian entree.  I assumed things had changed.  I quickly scanned the menu and decided how to piece my meal together.

I decided to order the Rocket and Roasted Beet Salad with Curly Endive, Pickled Ramps, and Maytag Blue Dressing ($9) and the Potato and Leek Soup with Summer Savory ($8) as my appetizers.  For my entree, I ordered the Wood Oven Pizza with Caramelized Onion and Fennel Sauce, Green Onion, and Comte ($10) from the appetizer list.  In the meantime, my dining companions selected from the sizable list of entrees.     

First to arrive was my salad.  It was comprised mostly of mixed greens which were fresh, crisp, and tender.  The beets were thinly sliced and tasted earthy, just as beets should.  The ramps, though delicate and lovely, were dominated by the vinegar in which they had been preserved.  The combination of flavors, however, served as a refreshing means for whetting my appetite.

The Potato and Leek Soup was luscious.  Creamy and savory, it seemed as if it had been delivered straight from the land of milk and honey.  This was not a chunky soup; the leeks and potatoes were cut up into tiny pieces and floated in the creamy broth.  The creaminess of the soup leads me to believe that the soup base was actually heavy cream; this writer prefers to use a base that is lower in fat, but I'll confess, it was delicious.

The Wood Oven Pizza was just as good as the soup.  It was laughable as an entree, however, as it was smaller than the size of my hand.  The size of my “entree” as compared to that of my companions' came into continually sharper relief as they received slab after giant slab of meat.  Still, the little pizza did indeed pack a punch of taste.  The caramelized onion and fennel sauce proved to be rich, savory, and buttery in flavor—it tasted as if there were some actual butter hiding in there.  The crispy crust carried the flavor of woodsmoke, which was a suitable complement to the savory pizza toppings.  

I also sampled some of my friend's Tagliatelle with Duck Egg, Leeks, Shiitakes, Mushroom Broth, and Reggiano ($12), an appetizer which I almost ordered for myself.  I was pleased to see that the tagliatelle was handmade; its flavor was fresh, and its texture was al dente.  The mushroom broth relied too heavily on salt, however; if I had ordered this as my entree, I would have been guzzling water for the rest of the evening.   

The dessert list was enticing.  Not only were there dessert wines and cheeses ($13 for a selection of three artisan cheeses), but there was also an extensive list of chocolates that were hand-made on the premises ($11 for four chocolates).  From the regular dessert list, our party ordered the Caramelized Banana Cheesecake with Gingersnap Cookie Crust, Maple-brown Sugar Pecan Sauce, and Banana Ice Cream ($9) and the Citrus Crème Brulee with Almond Macaroon ($9).  The banana cheesecake was rich and creamy, and the banana taste was a mere suggestion.  The house-made banana ice cream was a refreshing compliment to the cheesecake.  The crème brulee was also quite good; it had the look and feel of any crème brulee but with a subtle hint of orange.  I don't remember any macaroon, though.

Nevertheless, I don't think I'll go back there for dinner.  As a vegetarian, this isn't a place to go for a special dinner.  For a special dessert, yes, but not a special dinner.  There really aren't many choices.  I felt, literally and figuratively, marginalized by Fore Street's menu.  Now, if Fore Street decides to include some vegetarian entrees on its estimable menu, I'll be there in a jiffy.  I have faith that Sam Hayward could create some vegetarian entrees of which even Gourmet Magazine would approve.  The waitress's tone, however, makes me think that gourmet vegetarian cooking doesn't hold much interest for the likes of Sam Hayward.  

We vegetarians are left to dream all of the great dishes that could be roasted in that mighty wood-fired oven.