Saturday, June 6, 2015

A Real Rocky Horror Show

For my birthday celebration my husband took me, our son and his date to Hugo's, Portland's #1 restaurant and past proud winner of the James Beard Award, assuming it would be a memorable and exciting evening. We learned the truth of the saying, "When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me." In truth, it was memorable --  for being the worst meal I have ever eaten, at home or abroad and including Haiti. The only excitement came when it ended and after more than two hours inside we were discharged. The night air felt especially good as I realized that I was finally free.

Not only did most of the offerings taste bad, the only exception being a biscuit and some terrific butter, but it all looked so unappealing. Forget fancy china, everything at Hugo's is served on pieces of subway tile or slabs of slate or I'm guessing whatever is handy out back. Even the napkins and silverware were played with, arranged artfully and oddly on the table. Absolutely nothing was normal. (You may have already been there in a nightmare.)

At the end of the exhausting meal we opted to try all four desserts hoping that at last something would be yummy, or at least festive. Wrong again, they were served together on a long, wooden board suitable for beating a rug. Clumps of odd-colored sherbet and mounds of wobbly gelatinous forms with bubbly white sauce oozed over piles of harder unknown things. I swear it all looked like cat throw-up.

The tab was upwards of $400. Throughout the meal, various servers explained the mostly unrecognizable morsels of what was once real food, adding to the macabre event. Nice wine, though; I should have had a second glass.

Following are some photos I took with my iPhone during the meal. Due to the low lighting in the restaurant they are of very poor quality, which is quite fitting. The food was about as good as these pictures:
Mystery fish with green gelatin, black seeds and white cubes.

Lobster tempura, asparagus, red sauce and shredded weeds.

Veal balls in broth, sliced veal and street weeds on slate slab.

Monkfish lump presented with cubes of beets and tired chard.

Poached egg with creme fraiche, greens, turnip and cat vomit.

Cheese bits with gelatin and pistachio nuts on bathroom tile.

Desserts, honest. Nightmare on the left, brownie on the right.

More dessert, I am serious. This is how it arrived. I have no idea.
The best thing about the whole dinner was I got to look at this guy.

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