Under The Knife: Mac’s Grill

Teen horror movies are one of the strangest genres of film (I know this is supposed to be a restaurant review, but bear with me). As an outsider looking in, we know that 90 percent of the decisions made by the main character are stupid and usually harmful to their health. My trip to Mac’s Grill started off in much the same way as those horror flicks, with long dark roads, complete with fog. Now, in retrospect, I’m not sure I would have made many of the same decisions.

Upon entering Mac’s Grill, one is immediately greeted by a giant buffalo head stuffed and mounted on the wall and the buzz of waitresses and waiters carrying trays of fried food. My party sat in the waiting area, eagerly awaiting our fate. After a short while, our table was ready.

We ordered coconut shrimp and the southwestern artichoke dip to start. The shrimp was coated with a crunchy coconut batter and fried to a golden brown. Although a little greasy, the shrimp were tender and the sauce was amazing. The artichoke dip was an entirely different story.

The menu describes the dish as a “cheesy mix of avocado, artichoke hearts and baby spinach.” “Cheesy mix” was an understatement. I tasted of nothing but cheese, and as for the warm corn chips that accompanied the mix, there were only about 10. The missing chip crisis highlights my main problem with the appetizers at Mac’s Grill: the portions were extremely small and the prices far too high. Together, the two appetizers cost $18. In fact, the four shrimp that made up the coconut shrimp platter were more expensive than my main course. My advice is to skip the appetizers at Mac’s  Grill. Not only will you save money, but you will be able to dig into the entrees sooner.

The burgers are the highlight of Mac’s menu. The Whisky Wrangler Burger managed to wrangle my taste buds into submission. The barbeque sauce supposedly contained whiskey, although I couldn’t taste any. The “crispy” onions added texture, which was a nice contrast to the hamburger beef. The Blue Bison Burger offered its own blend of flavors which I enjoyed, much to my surprise, as I was suspicious of combining buffalo meat and blue cheese. After my first bite, I threw  this assumption out the window. For more standard fare, order the All-American burger. This is basically a bacon cheeseburger and is perfectly acceptable, although I had hoped for a little more bacon and a little less cheese.

If you’re not in the mood for a burger, options abound. One of the picky eaters in our dining party opted for chicken fingers. I know what you’re thinking: “Why he is reviewing chicken fingers?” Well, I’m not. I was entirely focused on the delicious honey mustard sauce in which I was drowning them. The sauce was sweet but offered just enough of a mustard flavor to keep you out of a dessert state of mind. This is more than I can say for the brown sugar sauce that accompanied the sweet potato fries. If you feel the desire to cut into a huge slab of meat, Mac’s has you covered. The 12-ounce rib-eye steak was very nicely seared. There was
just enough fat on the cut to ensure good flavor, but not so much that you had to work for your steak. The rib-eye was seasoned with a  “tumbleweed rub.” I have no idea what this is, but it tasted like salt, so I guess if you’re ever in the dessert and need salt, find  some tumbleweed.

Mac’s Grill was good for what it was. The burgers were great, the appetizers were expensive and the service was enthusiastic. As for the whole teen horror flick comparison, now you have watched (or rather read) my little movie. So, be wary of over-priced coconut shrimp of death and stuffed buffalos lurking around every corner.

Mac’s Grill

1052 Minot Avenue,

Auburn, ME 04210

3 out of 5

Under the Knife: The Falls, Auburn Maine.

Having been at Bates for four years, I tend to become suspicious of local restaurants of which I?ve never heard. So when a friend invited me to her birthday dinner at “The Falls”, located  at 2 Great Falls Plaza in Auburn, ME., I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

The restaurant’s decor immediately surprised me. The restaurant is situated on the bottom floor of an office building. The inside, however, looked like it belonged smack-dab in the middle of New York. Overall, the atmosphere was sophisticated, yet inviting. One wall featured a hand-painted tree which I couldn’t quite make sense of, but beyond this, I was very impressed.

The wait staff was perfectly attentive to our needs without being intrusive. They elegantly began conversation while delivering food and exited without even being missed. Needless to say, the servers were
skilled, but the fact that everyone at the table was one-hundred-percent distracted by the food probably didn?t hurt much,
either.

The wine list was extensive and seemed to contain a multitude of mixed grape reds. I partook in a full-bodied Malbec, others, in a slightly fruitier red entitled “Rambling Red.” Regardless of your taste in
wine, you’ll be sure to find something to your liking.

I would recommend the spring salad to start. The strong, salty flavors of the surprisingly fresh goat cheese were perfectly balanced by the light, almost minty spinach and a sweet, delicate champagne sauce. The mixed green salad boasted the classic combination of balsamic and strawberries (if you don’t know what I?m talking about, try it,  you
wont be disappointed). I found it a bit overdressed, but the sweetness of the berries cut the tart balsamic.

Before moving into the entrees, let me say that I give some serious props to the chef. Being able to time and fire a 12-top (twelve dishes of varying cooking times and complexity have to come out at the same time) takes some skill.

A filet mignon should be all about the steak, and at The Falls, the tenderloin was seared, seasoned and cooked to a perfect medium rare. The steak was amazing; the never-ending mound of mashed potatoes sitting underneath it was another story. The portion of mashed potatoes was, far, far too generous and, not to mention, a bit gluey. The portion of compound butter I found atop my steak was also quite large and tasted only of onion.

The poached chicken was dry and the mashed potato issues continued. The tarragon sauce, however, was deliciously buttery and actually tasted of tarragon, which is difficult considering the herb’s delicate
flavor.

The grilled sirloin was cooked with the same master hand as the filet. It was nicely seared and seasoned and was cooked perfectly
medium rare. The wine-soaked mushrooms were tender with a hinting flavor of red wine. The dish?s description on the menu makes no mention of mustard, but oh God, was there mustard. The roasted potatoes were drowning in it. I’m not complaining; I love mustard, but it would have been nice to taste some potatoes in there somewhere.

Scallops are hard to cook, as they are extremely temperamental and need to be handled with care. The seared scallops at The Falls must have been handled by the very best, because they practically melted in my mouth and were absolutely delectable. The pappardelle pasta they sat atop was tender and perfectly portioned. The pesto cream sauce
complemented the scallops perfectly and imparted only enough of a
pesto taste to keep you interested.

The pesto-seafood combination continued with the pan-seared salmon. The fish was very nicely seared and topped with an appropriately sized dollop of pesto (does pesto come in dollops?). I could have sworn I tasted lavender in there somewhere, but as it is not mentioned as a component on the menu, I couldn’t be sure.

Assuming you’re still reading at this point, you’ll notice that it is rare for me to be at a loss for words when it comes to food. This is one of those rare times, however, because all I can say about The Fall’s dessert selection is “amazing.” I ordered a cranberry apple tart that I wish I could’ve lived inside of. The chocolate mousse was incredibly rich. I’m used to a bit fluffier variety, but who could possibly complain about something which basically tasted akin to brownie mix? The star dessert, however, was the chocolate peanut butter cup, which was basically a chocolate gram cracker topped with
peanut butter and whipped cream. I’m still in a sugar-induced coma from it all.

Now, no one on campus can say they have never heard of The Falls in Auburn. My dinner was quite good, and I’m sure everyone in my party would echo my accolades. Might I propose holding off on that late night slice from Papa John’s and saving up for a delicious dinner at The Falls. Don’t worry,  the prices are very reasonable, so it won’t take very long.

Note: The original version of this review, written by me, was published in the Bates Student, for which I am the food critic.

The Falls
2 Great Falls Plaza
Auburn, ME
04210
3 out of 5

Recipes: Homemade Potato Gnocchi

It seems to me that there has always been an element of mystique behind the delectable little potato dumplings we know as “gnocchi.” In reality, they are deceptively easy to prepare, and can be on your plate in a short amount of time. Here is my own recipe for homemade potato gnocchi.

The first thing you need to do is boil your potatoes. You will know they are done when you can pass a knife through them easily. Once they are cooked, peel them (the skin should come right off), and mash them. Make sure to leave no lumps when you mash the potatoes. If you have a ricer this won’t be much of an issue, if not, clearing the lumps will require some diligence with a fork or potato masher. Ive also discovered that when making gnocchi, I always end up with more dough than I expect. So when you start to boil you potatoes, keep portion in mind.

Next add eggs and a touch of extra virgin olive oil and season with salt and pepper (white pepper if desired). Make sure thepotato is cooled before adding the egg, you don’t want to cook it. I usually make a well in the potato and incorporate the egg slowly, this way I eliminate any remaining lumps.

Next, incorporate the flour. Be careful not to add to much flour. In my opinion, measurements are useless here because the amount will differ greatly depending on the moisture content of your potatoes, how well you drained them, etc. Add just enough so that the potato pulls away from the side of the bowl and forms its own ball. You want to be able to work the ball, but make sure not to dry it out by adding to much bench flour.

Finally, take sections of the dough, roll them out into dowels, fork, and cut into individual gnoccho. Cook in salted, boiling water. You’ll know they’re done when they float to the surface. This time around, I layered them in casserole dishes and added mozzarella. I then placed them in a low oven until the cheese had melted. This step is a nice touch, but by no means a necessity.

Enjoy, feel free to comment with any questions.

Recipes: Veal and Tomato Saltimbocca

I’m sure most of your are familiar with Veal Saltimbocca: veal cutlets layered with prosciutto  and a choice vegetable. The other night, my mother bought some veal and I found myself craving a veal cutlet; however, I wanted something a bit more interesting than a simple cutlet. I thought about saltimbocca, but, having no prosciutto, I decided to just make it up as I went along. I knew I had some tomatos, some onion, a clove of garlic, and some veal. My mind churned up Veal and Tomato Saltimbocca. While simple, it came out quite nice and most certainly jumped in my mouth (Saltimbocca translates roughly to, “jumps in your mouth”).

Start out by preparing your ingredients, a miniature mise-en-place if you will:

1. Chop your onion, no need to be to strict about the size; its’ Italian food, and it’s allowed to be rustic.
2. Mince the garlic, very fine.
3. Rough chop the tomatoes
4. Bread the veal. I first dredge it in flour, then egg then bread crumbs.

The cooking steps are fairly simple:

1. Begin by sweating your onion and garlic in some olive oil
2. Add some fresh oregano and marjoram if desired (minced fine)
3. Once those are done introduce your tomatoes (be ready for a fair amount of water.)
4. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
5. Add some white wine vinegar and let the mixture simmer  (red wine vinegar works fine also just be ready for the slightly different taste. I decided to avoid a strong balsamic-vinegary taste in this case).
6. While that mixture simmers, it’s time to add some cutlets. Heat some oil in a fry pan (I would use oil with a high smoke point, such as vegetable or sun flower oil.)
7. Get the pan very, very hot. The only objective here is to quickly add color to the cutlets, not to cook them, per-se.
8. Once they are colored, layer the tomato mixture in-between two of the cutlets, top with mozzarella and place in the oven at 350-375 for about 7 minutes (depending on your oven, the cook time should be about 5-10 minutes)
9. Plate and finish with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil.
10. Enjoy.

Recipes: Pasta with Prosciutto, Tomato Sauce and Truffles

The world is becoming a very expensive place. As much as I love going out to restuarants, I love cooking more. As my work for the summer comes to a close, now is the perfect time to share some of my favorite recipes. The final product of the following recipe will somewhat resemble cannelloni, but frankly, its essence is completely different: drenched, prosciutto-laden awesomeness.  The recipe is not especially complicated, but there are quite a few intuitive steps which I will spell out in detail.

There are three parts to my Pasta Con Prosciutto, Sugo di Pomodoro e Tartufo.  (Don’t let the name intimidate; it simply means pasta with prosciutto, tomato sauce and truffles. Such is the case with many French and Italian dishes: they are quite often not as complicated as their names may suggest.)

The first part is making the pasta.

When I have the time to make it, I prefer homemade pasta. I like the more delicate texture and the ability to be somewhat creative when it comes to shape and size. The last time I made this recipe, I made the pasta myself, but if you don’t feel like getting your hands dirty, lasagna sheets will work perfectly fine.

Dough-making, be it bread dough, pasta dough or pastry dough, is all about ratios of dry ingredients to wet ones. For pasta, the basic ratio is 1:1, that is one cup of flour to one large egg. For a little more flavor, I usually add in an extra yolk. Also, feel free to use water to adjust the texture.

1. Place  one cup of flour, (either all purpose or semolina) into a bowl. Make a well in the center and crack two eggs and separate a yolk from the third.
2. Beat the eggs without incorporating too much of the flour. As the eggs come together, slowly integrate the flour. Once the flour has been mixed in with the egg, you should be left with a fairly wet mixture.
3. Now begin adding the second  cup of flour slowly (for a lighter pasta make the second cup entirely all-purpose flour. The more semolina you introduce to the mix, the more hardy the pasta. Personally, I make the second cup 1/4 all-purpose, 3/4 semolina). This process ensures that the final mixture is not too dry. You can always add flour, but you can’t take it out. It is also at this point that I add a teaspoon of salt and a dash of extra virgin olive oil.
4. As soon as the mixture has reached the correct consistency, move it out of the bowl and onto a floured surface. Knead the dough for about 20 minutes to build up the gluten. You can also continuallly pass it through the number seven setting on your pasta roller, folding it between passes until you hear solid snapping sounds. (It should sound like a bubble gum bubble popping)
5. Wrap the ball in plastic wrap and let it rest in the fridge for about 15 minutes.
6. Once the dough has rested, roll it through your pasta machine on the second to last setting.
7. Cut into sections about 1.5 inches tall and 6 inches wide. Set the cut pasta aside to dry up a bit.

The next component that needs to come to life is the sauce. You can use canned kitchen-ready tomatoes. Some people are against them, but as long as you don’t buy bottom-of-the-line ones, they wont taste of metal. You can also take about five ripe tomatoes, grill them, or roast the lightly in the oven, then throw them into a food processor. Regardless of how you get the tomatoes, the sauce steps are the  same.

1. Finely mince both garlic and onion. Judge the amounts based on your personal tastes. Place some olive oil in a thick-bottomed pot along with the garlic and onion and begin to sweat the vegetables. (To Sweat: cooking vegetables such that they release their flavors and soften without browning. Done over low heat.) At this point, season with any hot spices you want to introduce. Traditionally, a dash of red pepper flakes is used. Regardless of what hot spice you use, introducing it in this step means the heat will disperse through the oil, which ensures an even incorporation into the sauce. Usually, I will also use a little salt and pepper, however, because this recipe uses prosciutto, we need to be careful with the salt level. Black pepper is fine; freshly-ground is preferable.
2. As soon as aromatics are done sweating (you might start to see some hints of color) add in your tomatoes. Stir well, and correct seasoning with salt and pepper, again, for this recipe, be careful with the salt.
3. Introduce some red wine to the sauce, probably about 1/4 cup of wine to 1.5 cups of sauce. I usually eye it. It can be any dry red, and go cheap; it’s fine. Once you add it, you should be able to just taste the grape, without any of the alcohol. At this point also shave your black truffles into the sauce. The amount is more or less up to you.
4. Let the sauce simmer for a bit, then add some basil and oregano. Either fresh or dried oregano is fine, but fresh basil is an absolute must.  Let it simmer for about 5 minutes.

While making your sauce:

1. Boil your pasta
2. Take it out, let it cool a bit, then roll in your prosciutto
3. Place the rolls in the oven on a lightly oiled sheet pan.
4. Bake until the tops turn golden brown (oven at 350-375, about 10 minutes).

Finally, plate and serve. You can add some cheese at the end if desired, but given the array of flavors already-present, I would be sparing.

This dish goes nicely with a good red wine. For something a bit more mellow, go with a cabernet, for more earthy and complex, try a nice pinot. If you added a lot of truffle to the sauce, I would personally go with a less earthy wine.

Marco (North End)

I’m sure that nearly everyone has heard the expression “finding a needle in a haystack.”  Imagine how difficult that would be. I wonder, has anyone ever actually tried to find a needle in a haystack, sifting through, handful by handful, until he found one not only a needle, but one, particular needle? Talk about an impossible task; it’s hard enough differentiating one needle from another, let alone finding one in particular. Now, I issue you one more challenge: to find an Italian restaurant in the North End that stands out from the rest. So many of them are delicious; so many of them make me think of Italy. They all tempt my taste buds with delectable Italian fare. Obviously, I am being a tad sarcastic. All North End restaurants are not made equal, but among the best, I wonder, is it possible to find that one particular needle?

While scrolling through this year’s James Beard Foundation Award nominees, I noticed the name Marc Orflay. I had heard of one of his Boston restaurants, an establishment called Pigalle, (French, and in the Theater District, go figure). I was ecstatic that yet another Boston chef of whom I had heard was up for a JB award. Unfortunately, he did not win in the category of Best Chef: Northeast. Nonetheless, I myself won in a small way; I found that needle in the North End haystack: Marco.

If you weren’t explicitly searching for Marco, you’d never notice it. The restaurant is hidden on the second floor of a building on Hanover Street, above Cafe Paradiso (which is worth a visit itself if you’re in the mood for coffee or cocktails). The dining area is small, dimly lit, and something straight out of a Tuscan villa. There are around 10 to 15 tables, and a small open reception area adjacent to the dining room. We were early for our reservation, but the hostess had our table ready upon arrival, an intimate setting for two with a perfect view of bustling Hanover Street. I was amazed with the interior decor of the restaurant; Marco is one of the few North End restuarants that made me feel as though I was back in Siena or Florence. And as amazing as the interior was, the food was even better.

We started off the meal with the fried zucchini flowers. The lightly golden, delicate flowers stuffed with sweet ricotta cheese beckoned the taste buds. The result was not disappointing; the flaky, salty outside gave way to creamy, sweet ricotta filling inside. The lingering hints of crispy batter inside the creamy cheese made for an absolutely delightful combination.

For an entrée, I ordered Veal Saltimbocca. The veal cutlets were cooked perfectly, the tender inside juicy and succulent. Perfectly complementing the crunchy cutlets was thinly sliced, salty prosciutto.  The veal was layered with cheese and sautéed porcini mushrooms –a nice, albeit, unconventional addition. It added depth and complexity, making a familiar dish more exciting and absolutely delicious.

Another dish which threw me straight back to dinner on Piazza del Campo was the Tagliatelle alla Bolognese. The tagliatelle were extremely delicate and clearly homemade. The Bolognese itself was a medley of flavors. In addition to the tomatoes and the sauce, the vegetables present between the bites of meat were basically a classic mireproix (carrots, onion, celery). I have read and participated in many debates concerning the proper vegetable makeup of a Bolognese, and the jury is still out. I guess it is ultimately up to the chef, and this one definitely pulled it off. Other than lacking a bit in salt, the dish was perfect. The additional option of choosing a full or half portion made it the perfect, and perhaps cheaper alternative to a full meal.

Dessert was equally impressive. The mini cannoli were absolutely amazing; I only wish they were larger. The shells were perfectly cooked and possessed a slight cinnamon flavor. The ricotta inside was sweet, and hearkened my memory back to my zucchini appetizer. The portion was ideal for a dessert: not so much that you feel guilty eating it, and not so little as to leave you wanting more.

The same was true of the tiramisu, though it lacked a strong coffee flavor, something that appears to be the norm with the American variety. This deficiency, however, was more than made up for by the flaky, moist ladyfingers and creamy marscarpone.

I guess that after searching for quite a long time, I found that needle in the stack of needles. The only thing I’m not sure about now is whether or not it’s the right one. You never know though – there might be yet another needle in the North End stack worth finding.

Marco

253 Hanover Street, 2nd Floor

Boston, MA 02113

4.5 out of 5 stars

Under The Knife: Brasserie Les Halles (New York, N.Y.)

During a trip to New York City a few weekends ago, my friends and I searched for a place to eat dinner. Much to my dismay, the price factor won out over my persuasion skills in getting them to dine at any of the city’s culinary powerhouses. After some consideration, we decided our best bet was to head to Anthony Bourdain’s old stomping ground: Brasserie Les Halles.

You’d think that with an address in hand and a friend whose been in the city for a few months, finding a restaurant would be easy. Not so. Who would have thought that Park Avenue South is different from South Avenue? Not for a lack of trying, we managed to find the restaurant, with its red cherry facade, hidden behind bright lights and scaffolding. Although our confusion got us there 30 minutes after our reservation, the hostess was kind enough to seat us at the bar until a table was open. Despite the crowds, we were seated in five minutes.

There are only three things I think of when I think of Brasserie Les Halles: steak, French fries and French onion soup.  The  restaurant knows what it’s about: good, honest, delicious brasserie food.

Let’s start with the onion soup. In a word? Perfect, and I’d expect nothing less from Les Halles. The onions were perfectly sweet, the broth perfectly salty, and the bread crispy, but not dry. They took simple ingredients and made an amazing dish.

The escargot was equally amazing. Usually, snails are easily written off as mushy, slippery slugs. Many restaurants allow them to get to this point because frankly, not many people know what they are supposed to taste like. I myself was equally guilty until I went to France and was introduced to the true wonder of escargot by a local with whom I became friendly. While I did not exactly understand his mother’s instructions for escargot, I understood the taste. I haven’t tasted anything like that in a long time. The other weekend was a blast from the past, and from a snail, go figure.

If it’s your first time at Brasserie Les Halles, you should know what you’re ordering before you even arrive. It’s not a matter of choice; its a matter of necessity: steak frites. The steak was perfectly medium rare and one hundred percent perfectly-seasoned. Every bite sang with bovine pleasure. Juicy and delicious, I would have happily paid 19 dollars for the steak alone, but the fun didn”t stop there.

You can’t have steak frites without the frites. Every bite of potato brought crispy, fluffy goodness. The fries were on the crisp side, the way I like them, and the way French fries should be. French fries are not meant to be soggy, sloppy, oil-drenched slivers. As I ate them, I could not stop thinking about the way Anthony Bourdain described the crucial importance of the Les Halles fry man in his book Kitchen Confidential. Let me tell you, after eating those fries, my respect for the fry man was in no short supply.

The prices were surprisingly cheap considering the name and the food. The service was fine, and the politeness of the hostess really stuck out to me. The waiter seemed annoyed that we were there. He was a bit intimidating, but extremely helpful. He withstood – gracefully I might add – my friend’s barrage of wine questions. He checked our progress frequently enough that we felt attended to, but not so much that it became annoying. A small suggestion: although the Web site says you can wear whatever you’d like, dress up a bit. You wont regret it.  And if you haven’t already, I definitely suggest you read Kitchen Confidential before you trek to Les Halles. My friend commented that for him, a journey to Brasserie Les Halles islike a trip to Mecca. He does tend to exaggerate, but I would agree that this place is nothing short of a religious experience with a side of fries.

Brasserie Les Halles

411 Park Avenue South

New York, NY 10016

4 out of 5 Stars

(Photos courtesy of Douglas Ray)

Under The Knife: Michael Timothy’s Urban Bistro, Wine and Jazz Bar (Nashua, N.H.)

I’m sure we all remember that elementary school science class when we discovered that oil and vinegar don’t mix. No matter how much you shook them into submission, the two would return to their stubborn, separate states. But the truth, as any chef can tell you, is that the two can be coaxed together fairly easily with the help of an emulsifier such a mustard or an egg yoke. But  just because the two can be combined with a little finesse doesn’t necessary mean they should be. The same goes for food. Would you ever expect to find pizza and seared duck breast served at the same restaurant? On the menu of Michael Timothy’s Urban Bistro, Wine and Jazz Bar in Nashua, N.H., the two items are juxtaposed in astonishing proximity.

Then again, on a very basic level, Michael Timothy’s is about juxtaposition. This becomes  evident when you first enter the restaurant, or rather, restaurants. As the name suggests, Michael Timothy’s is in fact both a fine dining restaurant and a wine and jazz bar. When my party accidentally entered through the bar, I became skeptical as to whether the casual-chic room was the bistro portion of the establishment. The notably quieter and more formal bistro was hiding adjacent, behind a storefront that could have been more clearly marked. The initial confusion on my part was followed by confusion on the part of the host, who, when we informed him of our reservation (which had been confirmed by them a few hours earlier), did not seem to be expecting us.

Once seated after a noticeable wait, the confusion only continued. Our waitress stumbled through the specials and lingered on unnecessary details. After being lost, confused and embarrassed for some time, I was finally allowed to talk to my dinner guest and examine the menu. My choice screamed, or rather quacked at me, immediately.

The seared duck was served with foie gras risotto, duck leg confit, roasted pear onions and topped off with a peppercorn demi-glaze. The duck itself was somewhat less than seared, but cooked perfectly medium rare and tender. The pieces of duck breast by themselves were a little bland, merely requiring some salt and pepper. The demi-glaze on top would not have been much of an issue had the breast been seasoned properly. But in this case, I would have preferred that the demi-glaze instead be drizzled over the duck.  The flavor of the demi-glaze was perfect – slightly peppery, slightly sweet – a truly delicious complement to the duck. The quantity, however, overcame the taste; there was simply too much.

The foie gras risotto was, once again, confusing. I’m not opposed to flavor, but I believe that foie has a distinctly strong flavor that needs to be blended with other ingredients that accent its distinctness. When it is mixed with plain Arborio rice, it tastes only of foie. While this is indeed a delicious taste, it can be a bit overwhelming. The leg confit was delicious but plain. Confit duck leg is not something you expect at every bistro, and I imagine the chef decided that the exotic technique would overcome its lack of flavor. Once again, this could have been easily remedied by drizzling the demi-glaze over it rather than placing the leg on top. Another issue: somehow some sautéed, raw peapods snuck their way onto the plate. They were both under seasoned and undercooked, much like the pearl onions that looked like pimples on top of the demi-glaze. I have a feeling the reason the duck was under-seasoned was because the entirety of the restaurant’s salt supply ended up on my dinner guest’s pizza.

The roasted red pepper pizza with four cheeses, San Marzano tomatoes, red onions and prosciutto was delicious at first taste. In my first bite, I could taste every flavor, including the savory of the prosciutto and the sweetness of the tomatoes. But as I ate more of the pizza, it continued to get saltier and saltier. All of the flavors once present on my palate were lost in a sea of salt. The pizza was also dripping in grease, likely a result of the cooked prosciutto and four cheeses. Some areas of the pizza’s underside were undercooked, while other areas were burnt to a crisp.  Overall, the pizza had a rustic feel which just did not meld with the direction the restaurant was trying to go in. This dish belonged on the wine bar menu and only on the wine bar menu.

One thing that certainly belonged on the menu with the duck and other high-end entrées was the chocolate peanut butter truffle cake. Let’s face it: if you combine chocolate and peanut butter, you really can’t go wrong.  A vertical slice of fluffy light chocolate cake was layered with peanut butter and rich chocolate ganache, topped with a little dollop of whipped cream and four petite dots of chocolate sauce. The dish did nothing wrong and everything right; when finished, I found myself wanting more of both the chocolate and the peanut butter.

Besides the initial stumbling, the waitress was quite adept, and the service, overall, was highly satisfactory. The prices were on the higher side, but they made sense considering the restaurant’s attempts at fancy fare. I have to give effort points to the chef and point out that Michael Timothy’s is one of the few fine dining restaurants in southern New Hampshire. There is some real potential here; it just hasn’t been entirely realized yet.

Michael Timothy’s Urban Bistro, Wine and Jazz Bar

212 Main Street

Nashua, NH 03060

2.5 out of 5 stars

Under the Knife: Birch Street Bistro (Roslindale)

More and more in Boston, I am discovering the demise of traditional ethnic areas.  The North End, for instance, used to actually be an Italian-American neighborhood but has since turned into an amusement park of sorts, complete with the extremely high-priced housing options that often accompany gentrification. A neighborhood near my house, Roslindale, has recently undergone a similar transformation.

Roslindale Center used to be swimming in ethnic variety. The area was a melting pot of unique and diverse cultures and when walking through it, one could clearly discern a multitude of different languages. A plus-side to this diversity was the food. Mediterranean-style markets, bakeries and pastry shops once lined the streets. I can’t put my finger on exactly when the area changed, but change it did. A town center which once felt like a cross between Rome, Morocco and Tehran now looks more Scarsdale. The food scene has, understandably, changed with the area. There are still a few Italian restaurants, but the food they serve  is, well, not really Italian. Among  the yuppie imitators, however, is one standout, a bistro- style restaurant that serves great food at reasonable prices: the Birch Street Bistro.

Don’t let the cityscape on its web site fool you, Birch Street Bistro, located at 14 Birch Street in Roslindale, is more than a stone’s throw from Boston’s downtown. However, upon stepping into into the restaurant, you would never know it. The dimly-lit dining area exudes a sophisticated yet welcoming ambiance. The first thing that catches the eye is the bar, which I imagine as something akin to a monster ready to swallow the dining room. It is on the larger side, but if you don’t feel inclined to eat at the bistro, it is makes drinking until you don’t really care about eating a real option and I can, most certainly, appreciate that. The rustic, unfinished brick interior is accented by elegant ironwork lighting and nicely finished wood tables that almost beg you to sit and eat. The food will make you glad you did.

The menu is more or less what you’d expect to find at a restaurant with the word “bistro” in the name, with a bit of a twist. You can tell that on most of the dishes, the chef has added his own personal touch. Nothing extraordinary, but enough to notice. The food feels like it was prepared in your grandmother’s kitchen and it tastes even better. It is, therefore, probably appropriate that I start with a dish you could easily find in most grandmother-laden kitchens (especially the mémé-laden ones), French onion soup.

Have you ever seen a waiter walking towards your table with food that you knew would be delicious as soon as you saw it?  For me, this was not one of those times. I didn’t even see it coming; I smelled it. It exceeded my wildest dreams. Granted, rarely do my dreams include French onion soup, but it was amazing. You could easily taste the sweetness of the onions and the saltiness of the broth simultaneously. The bread was mushy after soaking up the soup, but it was the perfect complement to the cheese melted over it. I expect I will be traveling back to the Bistro just for this delicious appetizer.

The strawberry and spinach salad was equally delicious,  but slightly more confusing. My palate couldn’t decide whether it was a dessert or an appetizer. I suppose this is a good sign for a salad that contains generous amounts of  both strawberries and toasted walnuts. It was a simple yet surprisingly light and delightful appetizer that proved one simple truth about cooking with simple ingredients: when your dish only has two or three components, each has to be executed perfectly.

This only becomes more true when the ingredients are steak and potatoes… I’ll admit it: I ordered steak frites. At a bistro, at least in theory, steak frites should be their forte. The chef should be able to execute a perfect plate of juicy, hefty beef and crispy, fluffy pommes-frites with his eyes closed. I’m partially convinced that this chef actually tried to cook my steak with his eyes closed. Had I ordered the steak medium well, I would give a slightly different review. The steak was most definitely overcooked; however, it was seasoned quite well. The potatoes were not overcooked. Some were perfectly crunchy, although they were on average a bit south of crispy. This may have been due to the fact that they were swimming in the juices of a steak that  rested on the same plate.

One thing that was definitely not allowed to rest on the plate were the grilled vegetable ravioli. A pasta dough mixed with puréed spinach encased a beautiful assortment of grilled vegetables which had been finely minced/puréed. One could easily discern the sweet, juicy flavor of green peppers, balanced by the spicy liveliness of red peppers. They were served in tomato water with cut cherry tomatoes. In my opinion, the cherry tomatoes were unnecessary but, aside from the clutter, did not take away anything from the dish.

The service was excellent at first. My party was seated promptly and the waitstaff was very attentive to our needs. As the meal went o,n however, they became a little too attentive. Obviously, there is a big difference  between the waitstaff being on top of their tables and being annoying. There was a point when I just wanted to eat and not be bothered. (Then again, I suppose I need to think of a more subtle way to photograph the dishes.)

Despite the area’s transformation, I would say that some of the changes to Roslindale Center have been positive, and the Birch Street Bistro has certainly earned its place among them. There is still some room for improvement and hopefully, with time, the restaurant will change along with the neighborhood it helped transform.

Birch Street Bistro

14 Birch Street

Roslindale, MA 02131

3.5 out of 5 stars

Under the Knife: Radici (Portsmouth, NH)

When one travels to the seacoast – Portsmouth, N.H., for instance – an absurdly ferocious bombardment of run-of-the-mill seafood restaurants is expected, if not unavoidable. Each of these restaurants (hopefully) cooks ingredients that were caught the very same day. In this way, such restaurants manage to elevate themselves from mediocrity to better-than-average. To make the most use out of fresh ingredients, then, a restaurant which finds itself in the middle of a seaport better serve fish in at least slightly above average quantities. The Italian restaurant Radici failed to abide by this cardinal rule. This should have been my first indicator of the dining experience I would be facing, but I am an optimist at heart.

As I approached Radici, located at 142 Congress Street in Portsmouth, I noticed that its storefront was encased in a cage of ugly medal scaffolding. Although renovation is not unusual, you would have to the most incompetent manager in the world to start your renovations in late May when you’re located in an area that gets most of its traffic from summer tourists. I hope with all my heart that they were starting their renovations, because if that storefront was the finished product, well, good luck to them. As I peered inside I noticed, much to my curiosity, that at 7 p.m., the restaurant was more or less empty. This should have been my second flashing red light but, once again, I am an optimist.

The decor of the restaurant was trying too hard. It had the design of something which belonged in southern California, and a burnt orange paint job which reminded me of the color water takes on when it drips off rusty metal. The two clashed immeasurably, and neither of them were effective in creating an atmosphere evocative of Italy. The hostess decided it prudent to seat my party at a table situated right by the door and adjacent to a couple and their two screaming kids. Why she decided to seat two very obviously 20-somethings here and not in the more fashionable rear dining room is beyond me.

Our dinner waiter was prompt and polite, although she was a tad too casual for the upscale decor Radici was trying to establish. For some reason, she did not deliver our bread until after bringing our wine. While looking at the menu, I noticed something that struck very strongly against my cardinal rule of restaurants. Out of a menu of 34 items, only five contained fish in some capacity. Given its location in the heart of Portsmouth, this seemed a low number.

Overall, I would say that the food failed to amaze. The garlic-crusted rack of lamb showed both promise and lack-there-of.  The lamb itself was cooked to a perfect medium rare. Its garlic crust, although tasty, was more of a mushy porridge of breadcrumbs, garlic and tomato sauce (probably not the best idea to put breadcrumbs on a juicy piece of meat and call it a crust). The sides of asparagus and whipped potatoes showed both a lack of imagination and ill execution. The asparagus was undercooked and tasted only of the butter it were sauteed in. The whipped potatoes were not whipped at all, considering there were plenty of mildly undercooked potato bits. And someone really needs to tell this chef, or more probably, line cook about the wonderful invention called salt.

The chicken piccata  lacked passion and effort. What should have been an easy dish to make taste great tasted only of lemon. I would not be surprised if i the fettuccine was cooked in lemonade. The dish failed to incorporate the wonderful flavor of the capers, and the piece of chicken slabbed on top seemed to exist only as an observer to the tangled web of overcooked fettuccine that dwelled below.

After a somewhat uninspiring meal, the dessert was a Godsend. In retrospect, both were very average, but I remember thinking that the chocolate -chunk crème brûlée was out of this world. It was slightly over brûléed, and the chocolate was sitting in a hard layer underneath the creme. The tiramisu was, once again, average, however, I will concede that the presentation was impressive. It didn’t taste very much like tiramisu, as there was not the slightest taste of coffee. Whatever coffee taste was there was drowned in a sea of strong raspberry sauce.

The prices were absolutely outrageous considering the quality of the food. I was tempted to give Radici a two; however, there was an annoying little pest that made me think twice. During the course of the meal, I noticed an abundance of flies. Had they been regular flies, I wouldn’t have been concerned. But these were fruit flies, which made me worry about the conditions in the kitchen. Ultimately, Radici flopped around unimpressively like the fresh fish it should have been serving.

Radici

142-144 Congress Street

Portsmouth, NH 03801

1.5 out of 5 stars