local Flavor: Chef et al

Where: 408 Forest Ave., Portland When: Lunch daily 11 am-3 pm; dinner daily 5:30-10 pm How: 400-5054
2008-06-03
Fred Field
Lauren Zoll with a dish called Frenchy's pork chop, which features brandied carmelized onins and apple demi with roasted yukon gold potatoes and creamed sweet corn.
You might expect that a restaurant moving in just steps away from a university campus would feature a little bit of grunge. You’d expect something like Bleachers, Punky’s or the Great Lost Bear, which have taken turns as the popular off-campus joints. You might expect Thai food, cheap burritos or even another pizza place.

But 2-month-old Chef et al seems to have gone in another direction. The only finer-dining option in the neighborhood, it’s a clean-cut bistro whose chef frequently makes rounds, chatting with customers.

Chef Thomas Johnson aims to change the menu frequently, he tells many of them, so that it will follow the availability of in-season produce. Their dinners, at $18-$30 an entrée, seem a little pricey for the neighborhood — but with a deliciously inexpensive lunch menu, a bar that’s open all day, wireless internet and a nice, laid-back environment, Chef et al may still pull in the student and young professional crowd.

I didn’t know the restaurant was there when I walked by with a handful of friends early one afternoon. Hungry and curious, we poked our heads in and took a booth. Enjoying an afternoon off, we ordered a round of Allagash White ($4) and settled in with our menus.

For Gwen: the turkey sandwich ($9), covered with apple-cranberry chutney. Lauren ordered the crab cakes ($10). Josh got the buffalo wings ($9).

I was drooling from the moment I saw the butternut squash ravioli on the menu ($10).

While the chef headed back toward the kitchen to make our food (we were one of two tables there for lunch), our waiter talked about the new restaurant and how business has been — as a group of 20-somethings, we were the crowd to please.

Trying to attract students and local professionals, Chef et al offers “hospitality nights,” when students, teachers and restaurant-industry workers get half-off appetizers, soups and salads, as well as an offering of cheaper drinks. We glanced around the table — anyone up for drinks tonight?

My salivary glands kicked in again as I saw my ravioli floating toward me on a serving tray, and for a few minutes, all of our attentions were directed toward food.

Gwen’s sandwich was like a delicious cousin to the thanksgiving-leftovers-sandwich, with cranberry chutney and turkey on perfectly toasted bread. She was reluctant to share.

Lauren’s crab cakes were good — though she suggested that the “spicy” remoulade could use a little more kick.

The buffalo wings were buffalo wings — Josh thought they were good, and it’s hard to make wings anything special.

But the ravioli ...

The squash at the center of each soft square was perfect, the pasta was perfect, the vegetables scattered across the plate were perfect, even the flakes of parmesan cheese tossed on the plate were — you guessed it — perfect. I cleaned my plate.

Left with empty plates and the dregs of our drinks, but happy to stay and relax a little while longer, we asked for the dessert menu. We wanted two things to share between four of us, and we had no trouble choosing. In front of Gwen and Josh landed the chocolate blueberry crème brulee ($6). On my side of the table — key lime cheesecake ($6).

Now, key lime pie is my favorite of all pies ever made. And cheesecake is definitely in the top five. The idea of key lime cheesecake is out of this world — and the thick slice most certainly did not disappoint.

The crème brulee was great as well, creamy chocolatey custard with a just a hint of blueberry — but I was too distracted by my cheesecake nirvana to think much about it.

Chef et al, with its friendly service (and chef) and delicious food, will definitely be added to the list of places I go for lunch — or an afternoon beverage.

I just hope that when they change the menu, the ravioli (and the cheesecake) doesn’t disappear.

— Sarah Trent