Real ramen on the rise at Pai Men Miyake

Ben AppÉtit: Libby’s Market: a local gem we shouldn’t forget to love

When you spend this much time overanalyzing food, sometimes it’s important to get back to the basics. Though I’m sure much of the Orient’s readership is well acquainted with Libby’s Market, it seems only right to remind everyone that Brunswick’s best offering is available year-round, even in the dark midterm days leading up to Spring Break. Located only a few blocks away from Maine Street on Jordan Avenue, Libby’s serves a no-nonsense lobster roll that could easily be considered the best Maine has to offer.
The modest setting—a small clapboard structure with the appearance of a gas station sans gas pumps—enhances the culinary surprise that waits behind the counter. Food-obsessed Orient writers before me have questioned Libby’s supremacy with mentions of Red’s Eats, Brunswick Diner, and other crustacean-peddling competitors. I would just like to throw my hat in the ring with an emphatic endorsement of Libby’s as the ideal lobster roll experience just so happens to be the most convenient option as well.
Though the convenience store interior may seem like the typical place to stop for soda and chips during a long car ride, a few more dollars can buy you a generous helping of fresh-caught lobster in a toasted hot dog bun. Though it may lack the maritime décor of Maine’s quintessential seaside restaurants, the real spirit of the state is alive and well at Libby’s. The Libby family’s approach to food—all quality, no kitsch—makes for great food, great conversation, and limited seating. Don’t worry though; devouring the whole roll while standing at the counter is by no means discouraged.
Aside from some butter on the toasted bun (which is potato bread, of course), Libby’s roll is all juicy lobster meat with just a touch of mayonnaise for cohesion, rather than the dousing of mayo and celery too often used to compensate for a lack of shellfish. Many laud the inclusion of a claw in the roll at Red’s Eats, but we should all be honest and admit that the rubbery pincer meat is more of an aesthetic gimmick than a gustatory treat.
Libby’s doesn’t advertise at all, nor does it feature the press clippings and banners characteristic of its competitors, but the impressive quality of their product has made it an accidental attraction. Locals, enlightened Bowdoinites, and Yelp-savvy tourists come to the counter year round, but a small, yet noticeable price-hike accompanies the arrival of warm(er) weather every year. In the off-season, Libby’s rarely ever sees lines out the door, so winter is an ideal time to get your lobster fix in a hurry.
The birthday of my dear roommate Jake Reiben ’17 occasioned my most recent visit to Libby’s. Arriving just before the 7 p.m. closing time, our group was rewarded with free chips and challenged to a homemade dice game—a chance to win the contents of that day’s tip jar—while waiting for our rolls. Dan Libby shamed me into buying a female friend’s lobster roll, citing chivalry as a major part of his successful marriage, and the meal that followed was undoubtedly worth the doubled price. When the texture of the golden-brown potato bun contrasted perfectly with the smooth lobster chunks, the stars aligned, and I had a spiritual encounter with a three-ingredient sandwich. Simplicity, in both quality food and friendly atmosphere, is what truly makes Libby’s the best around; and fortunately, it doesn’t look like that will be changing any time soon.

Ben AppÉtit: Lola’s locally sourced burritos satisfy your need for freshness

As we have all seen in the past week or so, a little sunshine goes a long way here in Brunswick. Even with the big thaw finally getting underway, people on this campus (myself included) get slightly overzealous with their reactions to the strange phenomenon of a 60 degree day.
By donning shorts, exhuming various floral prints from Narnia-adjacent regions of their wardrobes, and attempting to photosynthesize on the Quad, Bowdoin students have collectively decided to adopt the carefree mentality of an elusive season known as spring.
As always, I have been thinking a lot about how this experience could be improved with food, and an extensive analysis of my cryptic midnight cravings has yielded one all-important criterion: Whatever it is, it has to taste fresh.
Don’t get me wrong, fresh ingredients are a year-round need that Dining Services consistently satisfies, but I was craving something more akin to the unattainable embodiment of spring on a plate. My quest for fresh brought me to the indoor farmers’ market at Fort Andross last Saturday, but I then found a true oasis of spring flavor at Lola’s Taqueria.
Tucked in the back corner of the big room where local vendors offer everything from blueberry jerky to raw milk, Lola’s sells homemade burritos that are the stuff of legend. In fact, I had overheard some lore surrounding Lola’s over a year ago during one of my biweekly procrastination parties at Bohemian Coffee House, but assumed that the fabled taco truck was a distant memory that predated my Brunswick residency. I was pleasantly surprised to encounter not a truck, but a simple counter with tinfoil-wrapped deliciousness piled high alongside vibrant varieties of Lola’s “Awesome Sauce” salsa.
To appease my craving for all things fresh, I opted for the A.B.C., which simply stands for avocado, beans and cheese. What I tasted, however, was more than the sum of its delicious parts. The burrito was bright, chewy and hearty, with a particularly artful interplay between creamy avocado and the spicy, acidic “Awesome Sauce.” In my mind, this is the ideal vegetarian (though sadly not vegan) meal available at this time of year.
And yes, I know that the avocado probably boarded a 787 Dreamliner to reach my mouth here in Brunswick, but the salsa sorcerer behind the counter insisted that every other ingredient was locally sourced, which made the $7 price tag seem all the more reasonable. This burrito—in all its meatless, responsibly farmed glory—is definitely enough to make devout Chipotle-lovers think twice about their allegiances.
At the end of the day, I am sadly a carnivore at heart. Though I admired my momentary vegetarianism, the temptation to try Lola’s take on pulled pork was too strong to resist, so I grabbed a second ’rito for the road. Though I didn’t expect it, the tender local pork and rice also satisfied my freshness obsession when I devoured the cold burrito later that night.
Given the circumstances, I’m sure that my margin of error was higher than usual, but my calculations seemed correct in assuming that this pulled pork was everything I had dreamed it would be. It was chewy but not tough, and it avoided the cardinal sin of BBQ pulled pork by substituting sweetness with subtle peppery spice.
When I return for more Lola’s—which I inevitably will—I need to check out the baja chicken burrito for the ultimate sunshine-in-a-bite effect. It should be noted, however, that the elusive Lola’s no longer stations a truck on Brunswick’s Town Mall when the weather gets warmer. Instead, you can find burrito enlightenment at Crystal Spring Farm on Saturday mornings this summer.

Ben AppÉtit

Real ramen on the rise at Pai Men Miyake

This piece represents the opinion of the author:

Ben Miller

Columnist

April 3, 2015

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What a menu. Rarely before visiting Pai Men Miyake had a laminated sheet of white paper attracted my gaze so magnetically, but there I sat, devouring the list items with my eyes. While the boldfaced names and reasonable prices of Pai Men Miyake’s offerings had initially drawn me in, the breakdown of imaginative ingredients under each heading enticed me even further.
The spirit of experimentation is alive and well in chef Masa Miyake’s kitchen, but the menu steers clear of anything that could be called fusion. Instead, the restaurant’s wide variety of offerings communicates a strong sense of place: the culinary landscape of modern Japan.

When it comes to comfort food, the conversation too often seems to focus on familiarity: a taste of home, a fast food flashback, or almost any dish that would transport Guy Fieri to “flavortown.” Ramen, however, rarely gets the comfort-food respect it deserves. Though many Americans may understand an abstract concept of authentic Japanese ramen that doesn’t include MSG packets and microwave instructions, the cheap version unfortunately dominates the collective consciousness on campus.

Over the past decade, real ramen has arrived stateside and developed a huge following in many American cities, and nearby Portland is no exception. Less than two weeks after my return to Maine from New York City—the American ramen oasis I call home—a Friday night craving drove me to the front door of Pai Men Miyake with four hungry friends (Oriana Farnham ’15, Margaret Lindeman ’15, Emily Tucker ’15 and Callie Ferguson ’15) in tow. Callie came to Pai Men Miyake with a hidden agenda (an insatiable thirst and an upcoming Orient column, page eight ).

After the waitress arrived at our long-awaited four-top table to take in Callie’s short sermon on hopped beverages, ever-astute Margaret invoked the magic words: “Ben, you should just to order for all of us.” After a moment of feigned uncertainty, I readily rattled off some appetizers and my curated ramen choices, which I tailored to suit the respective Myers-Briggs profiles and dietary restrictions of my dining companions.
“Oriana will have the kimchi beef ramen, Callie should get the miso, and how about the veggie-based broths for Margaret and Emily,” I proclaimed as their beers arrived.

The waitress seemed unsettled—either by my personalized ordering style or my domineering representation of the patriarchy—but I just smiled and took a rejuvenating sip of my yuzu lemonade.
Though all the appetizers arrived together after a very short wait, I suspected that one would disappear long before the others. The crispy brussels sprouts are Pai Men’s most popular starter for a reason; with a punchy fish sauce vinaigrette base and aromatic cameos from cilantro and mint, every crunchy leaf is a beautiful battle between flavor and texture. Even beer-fixated Callie stopped sipping and piped in, describing the sprouts as “downright silly…like in a good way.” This dish is a successful experiment to say the least, and seems like the groundbreaking solution to convert sprouts naysayers for good.

Among the other appetizers were two hearty savories to whet even the most ravenous omnivore’s palate. The hamayaki, which centers on a sizeable mix of broiled scallop and crab, stuffs an overwhelming amount of flavor into a scallop shell by combining the sweetness of eel sauce and Japanese kewpie mayo with truffle oil and sticky rice. The result is a rich, if heavy, way to start a meal.

The relatively straightforward pork buns, however, are not to be missed. The perfectly simple mix of tender pork belly, pepper relish, and a dab of subtly spicy gojuchang (chili) mayo on two pillowy steamed buns made for some truly transcendent bites. Everyone at the table wanted a taste, but after returning from my porky plane of existence, I noticed Oriana’s quiet dismay at the disappearance of bun number two. Let this be a lesson to you all; more pork buns make everyone happy.

The noodle soup feast that followed was, of course, the main event and euphoric fulfillment of my craving quest. Though I opted to venture into advanced ramen territory with my choice of a low-broth mazemen—complete with delicate sliced scallop, powerful miso dashi, creamy corn puree, XO sauce, and salty orbs of roe—the brothy options I had selected for my fellow diners were all the more solid as comfort food with a creative spin.

Reaching across the table, while no doubt an affront to every rule Karen Mills had taught my sophisticated senior companions, was a necessary evil for my purposes. The spicy, beefy broth chosen for Oriana was best when it came to solid ingredients, most notably the crunchy kimchi and tender beef that could be pulled apart with chopsticks. Callie’s miso ramen was, as I had expected, a more classic powerhouse of flavor that combined every broth style under the rising sun, topping it all off with the requisite soy sauce egg, scallions and nori.

Before passing judgment on the tsukimi udon soup, I asked Emily (the self-proclaimed “veg-human” on call) her thoughts.

“I love that they’re playing Contra, it’s my favorite Vampire Weekend album,” she replied.
Anyway, the tsukimi udon spoke for itself with deep shiitake mushroom flavor and bright pickled accents, though the udon noodles were a bit unwieldy with slippery chopsticks. Margaret nodded in agreement, further securing her role as the most cooperative dining companion in the game.

The experience at Pai Men Miyake delivers on so many levels, but most importantly the establishment stays true to its unique identity as a Japanese pub in Portland, Maine. No matter what you enjoy, Pai Men Miyake always has an authentic flavor, a delicious experiment, or an unexpected pairing that will surely leave a lasting impression.

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