On our last visit to Empire Dine + Dance, we were so squicked out by the odd atmosphere and random menu that we didn't even stay for a meal.

But last Friday in the midst of the sleet/rain/storm Spence and Shea called to invite us to join them, and adorable 2-year-old Sasha, for a meal. We intrepid travelers made the long trek 5 blocks down Congress st, figuring if a family with a toddler can make it out in such icky weather, so could we. (Plus, we were hungry and had just barely settled on ordering a pizza.)

Empire was surprisingly busy for such a stormy Friday. Spence and Shea and Sasha were tucked away on some couches around to the right, away from the main dining area. In general, the space at Empire does still feel a little 'off' to me-- but it's much nicer when it's filled up. There was an old-time/klezmer/bluegrass band playing, which also made the atmosphere feel a bit festive.

They've expanded the menu a bit, but it's still all over the place and a little overly ambitious. The portions are really mixed, too-- Spencer got the lasagna, which was an enormous slab of pasta and cheese, whereas my Jalapeño steak melt was a bit on the undersized side for $11. However, everything was fairly tasty-- the lasagna was basic but chock full of the things you want in lasagna (a.k.a. lots of cheese); Otis's blue cheese burger was pretty tasty if not especially juicy, even at medium rare; and my steak bomb had a nice spicy aioli and well-seasoned steak. I hated the roasted potatoes accompanying my sandwich (I had a choice of three sides, 2 involving potatoes, but not French fries, unfortunately)-- they were overwhelmingly covered with dried rosemary. However, both Otis and Sasha seemed to like them a lot. (I say 'seemed' because although Otis did say he liked them, Sasha just kept eating them without comment.)

All in all the food at Empire is fine. If you're out and about and want to grab a bite, you could find something pretty tasty at a pretty reasonable price. It's certainly nice to have more options on Congress, and I hear that the performance space upstairs is great (I missed a great show a couple of weeks ago-- Honey Clouds. Mea maxima culpa. I was asleep. This school-and-work thing is tiring.)

Next time: Marya and Otis venture into the wilds of Westbrook to drink smoked bloody marys and eat homemade donuts at the Frog and Turtle.

A few weeks ago Otis and I ventured out in a snowstorm to the wilds of Westbrook to brunch with our friends John and Toby, who live there. They suggested we meet at the Frog and Turtle, which describes itself with the somewhat twee phrase "a gastro pub." Their website uses some dubious etymology to define "a gastro pub" as "an neighborhood spot that has good, fresh food."

Regardless, it was a fun adventure to go to Westbrook. Normally, I don't make it out there unless I'm passing through on the way to Gorham for a meeting. Somewhat like a Manhattanite who rarely deigns to visit the outer boroughs, I've often felt that there's really no compelling reason to leave Portland, since I have all I need here. This is ridiculous, of course; but it does become difficult to leave the city once you have all your favorite spots picked out.

(Before my readers get all up in arms, I should clarify that my New York residency took place in Brooklyn and Queens, not the faaaabulous Manhattan of Sex and the City. If you haven't been to Brooklyn Chinatown you haven't lived.)

Happily, we're breaking out of our rut somewhat-- Frog & Turtle was fun, and this Saturday we're off to Brunswick to El Camino.

Now, on to the review of F&T.

We arrived to find that John and Toby had secured a lovely booth next to a big window. The space in general was nice and homey, and the seats were all filled. (Note: I think Chicky's Fine Diner used to be in the same space. Never went there. For why, see above.)

I started, of course, with a bloody mary. You can argue all you want, but I am a firm believer in a) drinking in the morning on a weekend, and b) always ordering a bloody mary at any restaurant you visit for brunch. It makes the meal so much more enjoyable. Plus, there's something about the tomato-horseradish-salt-spice thing that acts as a wonderful appetizer.

Sadly, the bloody mary at F&T was not satisfactory. It's advertised on the menu as "packing a smoky bite" -- in fact, it tastes like someone added a teaspoon of liquid smoke to the mix. The smoky bloody mary concept is a good idea, but in execution it just didn't work out. I kept sipping it, hoping the flavor would grow on me, but no dice-- it continued to taste off. Finally, I asked our waiter for some extra limes and did my best to drown out the smoke flavor with citrus. It was minimally effective.

However, aside from that, our meal was delicious. The absolute best part was the homemade doughnuts. They're three for $5 and worth every penny. Freshly-deep fried, they were warm and crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. You get your choice of flavors-- we opted for chocolate glazed; raspberry jam-filled; and cinnamon sugar. They were, quite simply, incredible. It's worth the drive just to try them-- I would have taken some home, except I realized that the magic partly comes from being fresh out of the fryer.

Seriously fabulous.

After the doughnuts, my benedict made with kielbasa seemed like something of a let down, although it really was quite tasty. The hollandaise was nice and light, and the eggs poached just right. The potatoes were fine. My only complaint there was that $11 was a little much for a brunch entree.

So, all in all, our experience at the Frog and Turtle was quite nice. it's a neighborhood spot that has good, fresh food.

And kick-ass doughnuts.

Evidently there's a whole subculture of people out there who love an early dinner. Now, I am not talking about people who have infants-- that's why we found ourselves at El Camino in Brunswick at 5:00-- we were meeting our friends who have a year-old baby. That makes sense-- the baby gets cranky after 6:30ish and it's time for her to go to bed, so of course our friends Cece and Jeff asked if we would mind an early meal.

No, I'm talking about the throngs of people who descended on El Camino at precisely the stroke of 5. We were there in the parking lot at about 5 minutes till, and were shocked hysterical by all of the people who showed up, waiting at the door for the restaurant to open. I have no idea why Otis and I both find this so funny.

Anyway, I realize this is beside the point when really you probably want to hear about the food, but it was seriously such a funny surprising thing I just can't get over it.

So, about El Camino.

The interior of the restaurant is really warm, painted southwestern colors with little colored lights everywhere. The tables are arrayed fairly close together, with booth seating on one side and chairs on the other. That was in our room, at least-- there were a few dining rooms in the sprawly-feeling space.

We started with drinks-- Otis enjoyed his margarita, I thought my 'limeade,' made with lime juice and coconut milk, was outstanding. It had just a touch of a salty flavor, and wasn't too sweet.

The food was quite tasty-- a reasonably delicious interpretation of Cali-Mex cuisine. Otis had tacos with chorizo and sweet potato; Cece had a salad with ancho-rubbed steak; I had a quesadilla with the same steak; and Jeff had the special enchiladas with chicken and a Mexi-BBQ sauce. (For those who are keeping track, Frieda, the baby, had beans and rice. She seemed to enjoy them.)

Everyone agreed that the food was good-- Jeff's enchilada, especially, was really yummy (he was nice enough to let me have a bite). My quesadilla was quite large, and nice and crispy on the outside without being greasy. The amount of cheese and meat was perfect, although the whole shebang was somewhat underseasoned. The most frustrating part of my meal, however, was that my dish came with literally a teaspoon each of crema and salsa. I would have asked for more, except the waitress never came back after she dropped our food, until it was time to clear our plates and give us the check.

This type of service is what I like to call hipster-indifferent. Like, "I am only working here because I am an artist, but really I am super duper hip, so if I feel like it I will be nice to you and maybe even get you stuff, but not because I'm obligated to you or anything." Seriously, if you're really to busy with the aforementioned throngs of early bird diners to stop for a split second and ask "how is everything?" you might want to consider a different line of work. The thing is, our waitress was friendly enough when she was around; she just didn't do her job.

I know I come off sounding fairly harsh about waitservice in a lot of my entries, but that's primarily because it was my business for quite a few years, and I've been there. I know what is required to serve a big section of hungry people who want, want, want. I know that sometimes you're just not in the mood, or you're hungover, or your mind is on how much you want to be somewhere--anywhere--else.

And you know what? I don't care. You don't have to be my best friend. You don't even have to smile. You just need to come by and ask my how my goddamned meal is and see if I want more salsa than the teaspoonful provided, or maybe another glass of limeade.

Whew! Now that I've gotten that off my chest, I feel much better.

Anyway, aside from the lame-ass service and slightly high prices (11 bucks for my quesadilla was a little bit on the high side, I thought), El Camino provided a delicious meal of a sort you really can't get anywhere else in Maine. I definitely recommend it. Just be prepared to leap out of your seat or trip the waitress or something if you want anything.

I've been spending the week crunching numbers, which makes a girl crave something a little more crunchy and tasty. How about...bacon cups? What a brilliant idea. There is a 100% chance I will make these for our next party. The possibilities for filling are endless!

In other news, the continued battering from Ye Olde Man Winter is starting to get me down. However, last week I invented a speedy way to make creamy and delicious chicken pot pie in a remarkably short period of time.

Short-Cut Chicken Pot Pie

1 grocery-store rotisserie chicken (I got the herb-rubbed chicken from Whole Foods)
1 bag frozen peas
1 bag frozen carrots, or whatever other veg you want. (I used mixed carrots & green and wax beans, which Otis didn't like that much. I thought the beans were tasty.)
1/4 cup flour
1/4 cup butter
2 cloves garlic
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
Splash white wine
1/2 cup half-and-half
s&p and herbs and spices (I used thyme and marjoram)
Drop biscuit dough

a. Preheat oven to 350.
1. Make a roux with the flour and butter. add the garlic. Sautée in heavy pot until brown.
2. Slowly add chicken broth, stirring, so as not to form lumps
3. Add herbs, spices, s&p, any other seasoning you desire
4. Add wine
4. Simmer on med-low for 5 minutes
5. In the meantime, pull all the meat off the chicken and put it in a bowl.
6. Pour the drippings from the chicken into the sauce.
7. Snack on some of the chicken skin. Give some to the dog. Give some to Otis.
8. Add the half-and-half to the sauce, simmer for another 5-10 minutes until it seems the right creamy texture. Remember to stir once in a while!
9. Remove from heat, stir in chicken and frozen vegetables
10. Pour into large flat pyrex pan.
11. Make biscuit dough* and drop in large spoonfuls onto top of pot pie mixture
12. Bake in oven until biscuits are nice and brown and pot pie mixture is bubbly and hot, about 1/2 hour to 45 minutes. In the meantime, catch up on your law school reading while drinking a Pabst.

* A note on biscuits. There is no need for bisquick. Seriously, people. Cut 1/4 cup butter into 2 cups flour, 1 T baking powder, and 1 t salt, add a cup of milk, mix with a fork. Ta dah!!

That's it! A nice cozy dinner requiring less than half an hour of prep time. I wonder if chicken pot pie would be good in bacon cups. I guess the filling would run out the holes...