We tried a new restaurant the other day which is something I love to do. If it was up to my husband we would go the same three every time we eat out because he’s an absolute creature of habit.
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City Farmhouse Kitchen and Bar in South Portland.
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The description was urban style with farm to table food. Sounded intriguing, so away we went.
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On first glance the cocktail menu looked stellar. Fresh fruit purées, homemade bitters and local herbs.
Yes please!
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I started with the strawberry basil mojito… which was so good I ordered two.
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I could happily have emptied a pitcher with my less than palatable crab cakes. The tiny things came out of the kitchen in a flash and had that hard crunchy coating that screamed frozen.
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On the plus side my husband’s lobster bisque was divine.
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It was an attractive place, modern with a few strange “farmy” touches.
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Like the fake grassy turf above the bar televisions.
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Sadly the main portions of our meals were disappointing. The husband’s roasted squash ravioli with root vegetables and sage brown butter were hard as a rock and dry….
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While my chicken tagliatelle with spinach, mushroom and pine nuts was dull as toast. The porcini cream had no flavor and the pasta was pasty.
My third cocktail however, the Indian Summer, was lovely.
Bombay Sapphire Gin, St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur, Fresh-Pressed Lime, Splash of Cranberry, Muddled Pink Grapefruit, Splash of Bubbles.
I always enjoyed that. Mostly because I liked posting pictures of myself with a waistline. Ah… those were days.
But a memory popped up on my FB page the other day and I thought it was too fun not to share.
My husband was the second of 9 children. His mother was a mere slip of a woman and I often wondered how she stayed sane. Yes, it was a different era… but that’s still a lot of kids.
All but two were born in Maine as the family moved to a dairy farm in western Connecticut when my husband was 8.
7 of the 9 siblings are in this photo with his mother, the rest are cousins.
Being of Scottish ancestry I hate to admit it, but the Irish know a thing or two about pubs.
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We recently discovered O’Reilly’s Cure in Scarborough and will definitely be going back.
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It’s upscale…
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And to Hell with the Guinness…
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Their cocktail list is da bomb.
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The Basil Ruby was divine and paired nicely with my delicious crab cake appetizer.
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And the apple cider margarita?
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Lovely, even with its sticky brown sugar rim.
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Husband’s baked haddock, garlic mashed and veggie medley was tasty…
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And my chicken pot (biscuit) pie was a scrumptious thick, creamy delight.
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And yes, they snuck that annoying ‘kitchen wellness fee’ I detest on the bill (it bothers me because I doubt the kitchen staff ever see the money) but the food and drinks were so good we’ll return despite the annoyance.
And while this seemed like your run of the mill sports bar, the blueberry margarita was quite tasty.
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And my husband’s go to French onion soup was anything but ordinary.
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It was served with its bread on the outside which we thought was odd, but the deep wine flavored beef broth was so full of onions and herbs and melted cheese you didn’t even miss it.
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My appetizer? Loaded tater kegs.
I’d never heard of such of a thing… and not being a tater tot fan, I almost passed. But these were delightfully crunchy on the outside and creamy, cheesy, bacon filled pillows of potato-y goodness on the inside.
Being a sports bar, all the televisions were tuned to this show. I paid less than zero attention until I happened to glance up and see this…
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Thinking it was just a typo, I grimaced and moved on.
Until this popped up on the screen a few minutes later.
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Ugh.
Not a typo.
Good thing the food made up for it.
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Baked haddock and Parmesan herbed potato rounds for the spouse.
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And a massive chicken, broccoli Alfredo (I ate for three days after) for moi.
Poor grammar aside, it might be worth a return trip.