Egg-ceptional

One food writer gets more than she bargained for

By Jill Strauss

HUGO’S: you want it, they got it.

Relationships and eggs have been on my mind a lot lately. Maybe it’s because last weekend I caught a rerun of Annie Hall, Woody Allen’s classic relationship story that ends with that joke: “This guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, ‘Doc, my brother’s crazy. He thinks he’s a chicken!’ And the doctor says, ‘Well, why don’t you turn him in?’ And the guy says, ‘I would but I need the eggs.’ ”

Or maybe it’s because I’ve been watching a little too much Martha Stewart Living. Every evening at 6:30 on the Food TV Network during Easter Celebration Week, Martha boasted about her pride and joy: eggs. In fact, she gently stroked the feathers and blatantly fondled the earlobes of her chickens, while gushing to her viewers about the brown, blue, white, and khaki-colored ovum her lavishly pampered hens lay. But probably the ultimate reason I’ve been focused on relationships and eggs is that I recently was served some in such a thoughtful way at a Portland restaurant that I want to crow about the experience.

I don’t usually eat eggs for dinner at white tablecloth restaurants, but last week, as I mentioned, I had eggs on my mind. To be more specific, I had quail eggs on my mind. I had spotted these speckled little delicacies at Market Roost Poultry, a stall at The Portland Public Market, and I began to think how nice it would be to eat them if only someone with imagination would prepare them for me. (Sometimes, I’m just not in the mood to cook, not even an egg.) So I called up several Portland restaurants and asked if they were serving quail eggs in the very near future. With the exception of a few Japanese restaurants that do serve raw uzura tamago (quail eggs), all said ‘no,’ until I called Hugo’s at 88 Middle Street and spoke with Nancy Pugh, partner of chef Rob Evans.

“We weren’t planning to serve them this week. Why do you ask?” Pugh responded when I pleaded for petite eggs.

“Because I have a yen for them.”

“Well, hold on, maybe we could have them for you Saturday night,” she said trying to accommodate me.

“No, I’ll be away Saturday night. I would like to eat them tomorrow night,” I said, thinking for sure my bizarre request would never be granted.

“Well, hold on a minute . . . Okay, I just checked with the chef. If you’re willing to order the chef’s tasting menu (a $45 five course menu) we’ll serve you quail eggs. How would you like them?”

“Any way you care to make them,” I replied absolutely astonished.

I know you’re thinking that I was getting special treatment since I’m a food writer, but this entire conversation occurred before I ever gave my name and, since the last time I dined at Hugo’s was in February, I don’t think I even qualify as “a regular.”

When I arrived at the restaurant the next evening, Evans greeted me and assured me that quail egg would be present in every savory dish that was to be served. She had not had time to type up the menu, but agreed before the end of the evening to do so. Janet, my waitress, remembered that she had waited on me once before (“I served you on Valentine’s Day”) and proceeded to suggest wines by the glass that would compliment my meal. Since I cannot handle more than two glasses of wine per dinner, Janet offered to pour half glasses so that I could taste a variety of whites. She recommended fragrant French white Burgundy to accompany my first course — a delicate cup of duck consommé with poached quail egg and tatsoi (a pretty little micro green for garnish). She suggested a surprisingly rich New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, a wonderful companion to the second surprise — a lightly dressed frissee salad tossed with ribbons of Serrano ham and topped with a sunny side quail egg. I enjoyed the Sauvignon Blanc so much that I stayed with that choice through the next course — tuna tartar. A topless quail egg was planted right in the center of a disc of fresh minced tuna and I was encouraged to either shoot the raw egg into my mouth or pour it over the fish.

After cleansing my palate on red wine sorbet, stabbed with the thinnest slice of candied apple, I proceeded to the piece de la resistance: a perfectly braised two-inch square of pork belly crisped on the outside and placed on a bed of tart quail egg gribiche (finely chopped hard boiled eggs mixed with herbs and vinegar). Quickly sautéed asparagus heads and slow roasted baby beets accompanied this magnificent morsel.

For dessert, I tucked into a small slice of chocolate roll and an egg shaped scoop of homemade honey almond ice cream, dusted with toasted almond, drizzled with sweet coffee syrup.

I’d like to say that this kind of attention to detail and creative culinary skill, as well as this stupendous effort to please the customer and build a relationship, is common in Maine restaurants, but the fact is, it’s not. I am simply grateful for small miracles when they come my way, and for Hugo’s I am truly thankful.

Jill Strauss can be reached at straussj@adelphia.net.