Hugo's

For our first supper club adventure, Rob Evans' Hugo's was picked from the hat.
While the restaurant itself is conveniently situated on the corner of Franklin and Middle Street in Portland, there were a few obstacles in getting there, namely, a giant hole in the middle of the street.


Once we had maneuvered around this gaping street maw, we found ourselves inside the famed establishment. The host was very courteous, and led us to our seats right away.


The tables were simple. One votive candle. One rose stuck in upright in a kind of Japanese-looking box with pointy things to hold the simple arrangement. Even though the salt was terribly necessary, the little wooden bowl in which it lived was adorable.

Our waiter Patrick was friendly, genuine, and informative. In addition to this being a tasty meal, we were going to learn some stuff about what we were going to ingest.

We started with fizzy water and menus, but were overwhelmed. Patrick informed us of the blind tasting options - either six or eight courses (portions sized appropriately), based on what was at the farmer's market that morning. Good thing supper club's on Wednesday - Portland Farmer's Market day!

The blind tasting sounded like the best way to truly experience this famous chef's awesomeness, and chose the six-course. We decided also to add wine pairings to our courses.

Patrick seemed very excited for us, and a few moments later brought us some tiny biscuits with local butter, and some French sparkling wine vinted by Benedictine monks (Saint-Hilaire Blanquette de Limoux). I wish I had a good photo of the biscuits; they were as tasty as they were adorable.

The amuse course (fancy word for appeteazer?) was served in a chilled votive holder on a doily. Inside was not a candle, but exquisite jelly made from ham stock. House cured ham gelée, more precisely. It was topped with orange crème fraiche, and there was a layer of olive tapenade on the bottom. Garnished with a precious pea shoot.
It was a little intimidating at first, for a regular-type-person like myself. Ham jello? Well ok! It was cold, and the gelée itself was not really a solid unit. It was more like hundreds of tiny beads of translucent savory flavor. I tried to get all three flavors - the orange, ham, and olive - on my spoon tip with each taste, to really experience the melding of it. It was excellent. With the portions so tiny, and the silverware tiny as well, it really encourages the diner to not eat so much as taste, and pay attention to the experience. It is like learning new colors you have never seen before.

The first real course, for which I did not end up having a decent photo, was a pair of salmon preparations. On the left was salmon tatare with puffed sushi rice, and on the left was a sliver of salmon belly cured with dashi, and a sprinkling of mustard powder.

I do not typically choose salmon when I am in the market for fish, whether to cook at home or enjoy out. However, I am an open-minded sort of lady (one has to be, I think, to agree to spend a silly amount of money on six courses of who-knows-what), and I went right at it. I have never had tartare, but enjoyed the texture more than I thought I would. The contrast of the puffed sushi rice (think more substantial version of rice crispies, without the sugar) was interesting. The salmon belly was, essentially, sashimi. It has a bit of a fishy, seaweedy taste to it, which was from the dashi. It was good. I am not longer apprehensive to get salmon when I am out.

Our plates and soiled forks removed, we were served Spanish Licia Albariño. In my notes I said it was a Portuguese Vinho Verde, but I don't remember why. Either way, it was light and lovely.

As we sat enjoying the crisp, fresh tasting wine, we were next served lobster consommé with some fava beans and peas sitting in it, and three lobster-stuffed rotoli with lemon stuff on top.


The rotoli were like little tubes of oddly-textured pasta with a seafood filling that had the consistency of canned cat food. I realize by saying this I am probably a plebian, but this whole course was just not my style. The fava beans and peas were raw, and nothing against raw food but they felt weird. Maybe you can wow people from away with lobsteresque broth with tubes of sadness sitting in it, but I live here, man. More wine, please.

And more wine arrived! This time Portuguese Quinta Do Feital Auratus, which was similar to the last wine, but I liked it more. It had more flavors. I wish I had taken better notes on the wine at the time, because that sad little description is all I've got.

Along with this wine, was, as far as I'm concerned, the crowning achievement of the kitchen staff for the evening. Almond-crusted fluke with hollandaise piped out of a ... hollandaise gun, with pickled red onion sauce, thinly slices turnips in colors, confit potato (which I believe translates to several miniature home fries)... holy crap. That was the best fish I have ever had. I weep at the mere thought of its thorough deliciousness. No photo I took could capture the beauty. I tried. My camera failed.

Next wine was the first red. Croney Estates Two Ton Pinot Noir from New Zealand. (Check out their web site - turn off the music in the bottom left hand corner, then press buttons in the top right to hear sheep calls at their various emotional states.)

This wine paired a variety of Guinea Hen offerings. It was very much like Iron Chef and the secret ingredient is Guinea Hen.

From left to right in the photo below: breast meat with crumbled skin, an onion with Guinea Hen gravy and little beet cubes, roasted thigh meat with shiitake mushroom slivers, and a fried wing. The fried wing seemed out of place. My favorite was the tiny slab of thigh meat.



Each of the Guinea Hen preparations were atop a long bed of wheat berries . I do not know if I have ever knowingly consumed wheat berries before this. They are tasty, however, there were more than an adequate number here. Wheat berry overload.

Next came more wine. Ten year-old Mas Amiel Maury. It is not a port or sherry, but it has similar gravitas. It is French, anyway, and indicative of what was to follow in the next course - First Dessert.

I have never had foie gras before this evening. I was titillated yet apprehensive. It's essentially liver. And that's gross, right? Not when it is foie gras mousse with brandied cherries, crumbled biscotti and Banyuls Sabayon (which is sort of like a foamy egg and dessert wine -based sauce) on top.

It was really awesome, and it sort of broke my heart to see on the menu they wrote pickled cherries instead of brandied. Pickled? Really? That makes it sound far less appetizing than it was. It was interesting to have a meaty-based dessert, but it was delectable and fancy. It worked well.

The last wine of the evening was a black Muscat from the Quady Winery in California called Elysium. On their Web site they have a video of a winemaker describing how they press Elysium.

Last course : blueberry blini with mascarpone foam. Essentially, the cutest little blueberry pancakes ever made with Maine blueberries, blueberry jam, lemon confit, and a cloudlike dollop of mascarpone fluff. It was brilliant.

With our check came tiny Campari and rosemary popsicles. To sweeten the blow of the cost of our evening's decadent extravagance.


All in all, it really was a lovely evening, and an amazing journey of palate and mind-expanding culinary adventures.


Here's a link to our menu.