Take three Mims Brasserie takes over a much-traded space on Commercial Street BY ANDY KING
	Mims Brasserie Mims Brasserie 205 Commercial St., Portland, (207) 347-7478. Serving three meals daily. Reservations accepted. Credit cards accepted.

Mims is the third restaurant to occupy that cheese-wheel of a restaurant space located at 205 Commercial Street in the past two years. The Bakehouse Café knuckled under to a star-crossed Caribbean theme in Lucaya, who in turn passed the baton to Mims Brasserie early this year. The makeover was long overdue. Perhaps the most visually interesting establishment on the street deserved to house something that would fulfill its potential, and the current restaurant is taking a shot at being a little slice of New York City here in Portland.

I say that for two reasons: 1. During my first trip there, in April, I was greeted by our server, who declared this cuisine to be "New York or European style" service, apparently meaning to say "family style" (the dishes are designed to be served and shared from the middle of the table); 2. My research into Craft Restaurant, owned by Tom Colicchio of Gramercy Tavern, whose menu is remarkably similar to that of Mims in its layout, presentation of courses, even fonts. This latter is not a bad thing; the restaurant industry, like any competitive enterprise that attempts to fuse personal expression, financial reward, and the basic desire to consume, is heavily laden with the act of adaptation. To claim that any one institution "started" a trend, with a few notable exceptions, is pointless. Anyway, Commercial Street is a long way from East 19th Street, in many more ways than one.

Last Monday, we were seated in Mims’s loft-like second floor, it being too chilly to dine on the patio. The loungey first floor — excepting the couch-lined private room for an intimate night of cocktails — has a more active feel, and the swooping, curved bar offered glances into a busy kitchen. There were two large parties that night, but to the kitchen’s credit, our service was not slowed down a bit.

The second floor’s most distinctive feature is an entire wall of chalkboard, scribbled on by cooks, managers, and whoever else thought they had something effective to say. This is at best informative, with recipes, plating concepts, and names and phone numbers of the local designers that worked on the place. Sharing the board, however, are obvious attempts at reminding the patron what they’re paying for, while trying to look conceptual and raw: things like "lots of champagne — good stuff!" and "Simple presentation of perfecting." It’s a little contrived, especially when the menu can speak for itself well enough.

Wife Jackie’s Frissee Salad, with soft egg, pancetta, shallots, and a mustard vinaigrette, was very delicately dressed, and would have been too much so if the greens weren’t seasoned to a tee. These are the types of things to look for in the more upscale restaurants you dine at; even lettuce needs a bit of salt and pepper sometimes. My Tuna 2 Ways consisted of Bluefin in two raw presentations: sashimi, and a tartare (diced and tossed with lemon, capers, and teeny diced (or brunoise) onion). Both took advantage of the subtle meatiness of the tuna well, but the presence of quite a bit of sinew in the tartare took away from the experience.

When you order, the items are separated into main courses and side dishes. You can order a meat for yourself, and split sides with your partner, or get a veg and a starch each, but the prevailing feeling is that these are meant to be shared plates. We found it to be liberating; this way, you can taste almost everything at the table and not feel bad about poaching from someone else’s plate. We got four sides: baked cauliflower (with breadcrumbs and butter), scalloped potatoes (needed a pinch more salt, and the potatoes were still crunchy), baked Jerusalem artichokes (actually the root of a sunflower, very good), and gnocchi (very tender, topped with parmesan cheese, but a small number of them). Our advice? Get one less than you think you need.

The Ribeye that Jackie got was incredibly tender, if slightly fatty, and topped with a Bordelaise sauce (reduced red wine, stock, shallots, and herbs — the recipe’s on the wall) and onions. My lamb chops were cooked to a perfect medium, and topped with a tangy whole-grain mustard sauce. The lamb rillette (meat slowly cooked in fat, pounded, and served as a pâté) had a crust on it from a hard sear, and was seasoned with the same whole-grain mustard that was in the sauce. Similar flavors, different presentation.

What proprietors Natasha and Steve Durham (of Natasha’s, on Exchange) do best here is present a style of eating that is new to the area: smaller plates, extremely high quality, mix and match, share and taste. There’s nothing like this in the Portland area (especially open for 21 meals a week), and their dedication to using locally raised meats and vegetables, while not ground-breaking, is still a trend that needs to settle in to our restaurants until it becomes commonplace rather than a selling point. In this atmosphere of newness, however, it was slightly jarring to hear that Chocolate Molten Cake was on the dessert menu (can we stop the insanity?), but we fought off the demon and got something a little more high-class: a brownie sundae with vanilla gelato. And we shared it.

Andy King can be reached at dinnerwithandy@yahoo.com