Stop, sit, and eat The Dogfish Cafe offers quiet confines and a relief from neighboring fast food joints BY ANDY KING
	The Dogfish Cafe The Dogfish Cafe 953 Congress St., Portland, (207) 253-5400. Open 11:30 a.m. to close, dinner specials starting at 5 p.m., Mon. through Sat. No specials on Mon. and Tues. Full bar Credit cards accepted Take-out available

The Dogfish Cafe is kind of suspended on the corner of Congress and St. John, marooned in the small pond of its own parking lot among stop-and-go traffic and Greyhound busses. Its neighbors include a Burger King, Lang’s Express, the Inn at St. John, a strip mall, an Amatos, and, of course, that bus station where all those Greyhounds roar in and out. So, in the midst of all this movement and emphasis on temporary location, it is all the more impressive that within the confines of the restaurant one finds such a cozy atmosphere.

Not to say that the bustle does not pervade the Dogfish’s interior, but it’s tolerable, and made into quirky touches that add to an underlying sense of carefully simple decoration. For example, all the tables are covered with easily clearable brown paper. But the paper has been rolled into tubes beforehand, so the edges cling to the sides of the tables for dear life and avoid interference with the customer’s legs. Each set of silverware is artfully wrapped in a paper napkin and sealed with a small length of paper and glue. Again, disposable, but cute.

We were unfortunate enough to arrive on one of the two nights when there were no specials available (Monday and Tuesday), but we were happy to order from the slightly-cheaper standard menu. The prices of the appetizers, cold sandwiches, and hot sandwiches were all pretty much the same, so wife Jackie and I just ordered whatever caught our fancy. And standing there on the menu, with a large fancy-catching net, was Fried Mozzarella.

Now frankly, it had been way too long since I had indulged in what was, in my youth, a staple of my diet. Mozzarella sticks used to be one of those "must-haves," even though, within their fried breadcrumbiness, they seemed to lack any flavor whatsoever. But dip those puppies in a side of marinara sauce, bite in, and you could pull that processed and unnatural abomination against nature for about 30 feet until it sprang back to burn your chin . . . my God, Fried Mozzarella, where have you been all these years? And would I still love myself in the morning for sinning anew?

What arrived on my plate was, thankfully, not those deliciously trashy fried sticks, but an actual ball of fresh mozzarella that had been breaded and fried to order. It was sitting in a little bath of marinara sauce, drizzled with basil oil, and sprinkled with grated parmesan cheese, and I very much appreciated the adult treatment that my old flame had received. Although I did feel a bit self-conscious ordering such a throwback item, I would not hesitate to order it again.

For dessert.

While I was enjoying my reunion with my past, Jackie was busy with her crab cakes. They were solid, and she very much enjoyed the not-too-spicy aioli and thinly sliced pickled red onions that accompanied them on the plate. That type of touch, the acidic foil to a generally rich and fatty plate, shows a good degree of thought by the chef as to his plate composition. That’s something that is missing from a lot of the smaller, cheaper restaurants that are springing up these days: an appropriate amount of care put into each and every dish presented.

Our second courses were the same type of polished casual fare as the starters. I hate to use the term "elevated," because to me, a greasy burger is pretty high on my list of consumables. My Dogfish Reuben came with home-fried potato chips, though, and a fat deli-style pickle to boot. I like my reubens with equal parts sauerkraut and corned beef. I found this one a tad dry despite liberal slatherings of Russian dressing, so the corned beef itself pulled itself out of the marbled rye upon first bite, resulting in a bit of a mess. But I’m no sissy, so I plowed through as much of it as I could while leaving room for dessert.

Jackie was happy with her Open-Faced Steak Sandwich, which was an entire steak, grilled a nice medium, laid onto crusty bread and topped with blue cheese butter. She very much appreciated that you could differentiate between the onions, peppers, and mushrooms, unlike the homogenous pile typically dropped on top of steak-and-pepper sandwiches.

If you plan on getting one of the desserts here — and this advice goes especially for the Volcano Cake — I would suggest getting some sort of beverage, like milk or water, as they are quite rich. The cake was very much like a half-baked brownie, but more chocolaty than I had thought previously possible, and I could only finish half of this before throwing in the napkin. We also tried the Tres Leches, described as a Mexican tiramisu but also very similar to a fruit-and-shortcake trifle. It was also intensely sweet, but definitely finishable. Which meant, of course, that there was no room left for another Fried Mozzarella. Damn.

Add to that really solid food a full bar, a modest-but-decent wine list, and a really pleasant blue/green paint job with a wildlife conservationist theme and you have the makings of an undeniably pleasant neighborhood hangout, even if that neighborhood is always on the go.

Andy King can be reached at snandis@yahoo.com