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I like the Portland Public Market. There. I’ve said it. For some reason, though, I feel like I’m on an island here. Chatting with some Portland food service employees, you’d get the impression that the place is a disaster, a waste of money, mismanaged, unable to hold a decent restaurant for more than a year; all in all, a mess. I really can’t see it, though. Sure, there have been some stinkers that have passed under its exposed beams, but that’s true of almost any popular street in the city. It was designed to be, and remains, a commitment to local food business. And the food business is a tenuous one at best, so don’t hate the player, hate the game. One thing’s for sure: They’d never lease a space to freaking Dunkin’ Donuts, like some folks in the Old Port. So those places that have remained stable have been the ones that are committed to customer care. K. Horton’s is the best cheese monger in the state. Forbes Meat’s meat, while pricey, is consistently beautiful. Gillespie Farms offers local, and local organic, produce. Again, I like the Portland Public Market. Last week at A Bold Flavor, one of the newest vendors in the Market, I stood and waited for my order to come up. While I did, I flipped their small menu over, and read what it said on the back, titled "Our Commitment to Our Customers." Nothing unusual there, a lot of places make a mission statement out of their customer care. Here’s what followed it up: "We hereby promise to blahdy blahdy blahdy for a few reasons. A. It sounds good and it makes you feel more secure as a customer. B. There’s a whole lot of space to fill on the back of this here menu. C. We’ve learned through years of experience in life and in the restaurant business that people just want to feel valued. D. We may just really care about your experience at A Bold Flavor, and hope that you come back and bring your friends." Okay, I realize that I’m putting myself at risk of being called uptight, but I didn’t get the joke. I showed it to my dining partner, then a few more people, then a couple more. No one could quite understand it. Blahdy blahdy blahdy? Was this edgy slacker cynicism? My guess was that I was looking too far into it for meaning, thus missing the point. I hoped that their mission — skirted on the menu — would come forth in the bold flavors of the meal. The only solid thing I took from that message was the feeling that I better be impressed with the food in order to clarify my now ripe confusion. The food is billed as MedditerrAsian — I don’t think I need to explain that — and the compact menu is broken into four categories: Appetizers, Quesos, On The Lighter Side, and Bombs. Out of 14 possible choices, only five have ingredients that could be considered distinctly Mediterranean or Asian. One of those is actually a chili, and another is a green salad with "Thai vinaigrette." And I’m not sure if you can really count the Falafel wrap and Falafel nuggets as two distinct items, so we’re down to four. The last, deep-fried Mushroom and Herb Chevre Wontons, while certainly containing elements from coastal southern France and China, came across as having a small cultural identity crisis. Out of the Quesos, there are two distinct categories: Pizzadillas and Quesos. The Pizzadilla is a folded wrap filled with a thin layer of cheese and flattened on a flattop; the Pepperoni Pizzadilla has the added bonus of, um, pepperoni. As one diner put it, "I feel like I’m eating from the kids menu." The Quesos were pretty much the same thing, but filled with onions, peppers, cheese, and your choice of eggplant or chicken. They’re also served with a side of red sauce for your dipping pleasure. They’re cheap, however, with a full Queso and a soda coming in under $5. The most promising menu item was the Falafel wrap, as it was the only one we tried with a distinctive flavor, that supplied by the Tahini. The Tahini sauce was boldly seasoned and quite enjoyable, and great for dipping the Falafel nuggets. The Gumpy Fries were good because they were, after all, French fries and ketchup. All of the Bombs are virtually identical and, for that matter, identical to the Quesos as well. Each one, be it Chicken, Roast Beef, or Italian Sausage, is wrapped with some form of onions and cheese, although some come with peppers and mushrooms as well, and the Roast Beef is supposed to come with Gorgonzola. Mine didn’t. I would say that it would be great if the owners of A Bold Flavor would take a cue from arguably the best walk-in wrap place in the city: Federal Spice. They’re MedditerrAsian, if anything is, with curries, spicy peanut sauces, and "Asian Slaw," and they follow through with the flavor. The thing is, they are the same owners, James Seely and Jason Stewart. I was quite excited to try A Bold Flavor when I heard of the association; now, not so much. I still think there’s room for A Bold Flavor in the Market, albeit one with a more cohesive menu. And some defined customer commitment wouldn’t hurt. Andy King can be reached at dinnerwithandy@yahoo.com |
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Issue Date: February 18 - 24, 2005 Back to the Foodtable of contents |
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