A Tale of Two Meals

I am happy not being the center of attention at social gatherings. But when I mention I’ve dined at The Lost Kitchen twice, people want to hear my stories.

The first time was in the fall of 2016. Chef Erin French’s restaurant, housed in an old mill in the tiny town of Freedom, Maine, was just in its third season at that location. It was before French published her cookbook, before stories about her place hit the New York Times, the PBS NewsHour, or the Magnolia Network.

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Friends who’d booked a hard-to-get table asked if I could take their reservation. They had other plans for the designated night and wanted to save the $95 prix fixe ticket price for an upcoming European trip.

I’d heard about the restaurant, its backstory, and French’s culinary talent. I even had personal connections to the place and its people. My sister works in the restaurant world and gave The Lost Kitchen high praise for food and ambiance. She had a few colorful stories about French’s dad, a neighbor of her daughter’s in Montville. And my nephew worked at the farm that supplies a lot of the produce to the restaurant in Freedom.

So, yes, I took the reservation off my friends’ hands. They, by the way, have yet to score another one.

Walking into the restaurant that first time was like entering a private club where everyone looks up, expecting to recognize everyone else. There were only 40 seats in the place then. The post and beam barn was open, warm, and candlelit. Our table was positioned up against the open kitchen. I had a bird’s-eye view of French presiding over the elegant Lacanche range, filling cast-iron skillets with generous portions of fish and meat. I was amazed by the copious amounts of vegetables presented in all their natural beauty. The photo-worthy courses kept coming—oysters, soup, a seemingly whole head of ruby and green lettuce decorated with flowers. Gleaming stainless-steel French press pots were lined up for coffee service.

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Later in the night, French stepped into the middle of the dining room, her still-spotless apron tied tight around her hips, and raised her glass to thank us for making her dream come true. It was the best restaurant meal I’d ever eaten. The price tag felt just fine, even if the final bill for two weighed in close to $300.

In 2017, 10,000 calls flooded the phone lines during the first 24-hour period French accepted reservations. She initiated a postcard mail-in system where reservations are selected at random, with winners receiving a call to inform them of the date they can dine. I’ve sent in cards annually since 2018 to no avail.

My daughter, though, was one of the lucky ones to score a table in the summer of 2021. She included Mom and Dad in her guest count and asked us to accept her invitation.

I was torn, given the state of the pandemic world, thinking about the level of food insecurity in Maine. The cost of the meal had risen to $190 per person, before beverages, gratuity, or tax. It can easily eclipse $300 per person all told.

Those 2021 prices make The Lost Kitchen one of the most expensive restaurants in the state. By comparison, the White Barn Inn in Kennebunk charges $135 per person for its prix fixe food menu and $195 for its chef’s lobster tasting menu. The Lost Kitchen’s per-person food cost even edges its way toward that of more opulent places like Momofuku Ko in New York City ($280), The French Laundry in Yountville, California ($350), or Alinea in Chicago ($275-$415).

Illustrated another way, dinner at The Lost Kitchen runs about the average price of a ticket for a good seat at Hamilton. Pricey, yes—but I can justify the cost of either as a night of great entertainment.

When diners win a reservation at The Lost Kitchen, it comes with instructions. The four-page electronic welcome letter has information about the reserved table, the cost, the wine cellar, the dress code (there is none), and parking. It also explains that the cost of the prix fixe menu “not only supports our entire team, it supports all of the local farmers we work with who provide us with the absolute best produce to share with you.” French and her team acknowledge that “dining out is a privilege, one that not everyone is lucky enough to enjoy.”

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In the 2021 letter, the team asked diners to consider donating to the Waldo County Bounty, a hunger relief organization, facilitating the transactions with a link. The message was a clear one: If you can afford to eat at The Lost Kitchen, you can probably afford a few dollars for the hunger relief fund. The effort raised over $330,000.

We accepted our daughter’s invitation.

French and company certainly upped their game to fit the elevated price of admission. Compared to 2016, the night’s experience featured more performance art than improv., more finely tuned service, more polish and precision. The servers seemed more glamorous, fit and made-up, dressed in flattering black t-shirts and handsome linen aprons saronged about their hips.

There was still candlelight everywhere, and flowers—big, dramatic pitchers of them arrayed across counters that bordered the kitchen space where French and her multipurposed sirens work.

The printed menu laid at each setting listed only four courses. But I counted four more, unadvertised courses preceding the listed carrot and coriander soup. There were oysters, fresh and fried, presented on beds of seaweed, served on elegant pedestaled wooden stands; a mini pork burger on a house-made bun; and a lovely platter of Maine cheeses. With each delivery to our table (and to all the others at the same time), the server detailed the provenance of the dish before receding into the glow of candlelight.

The main course featured Gulf of Maine bluefin tuna, perfectly cooked and generously apportioned. And then there were the desserts. I counted four: the one listed on the menu (semifreddo with salted almond brittle, lemon curd, and blackberries), plus mini ice cream cones presented as if growing in a flower pot, tender donuts, and a platter of thin chocolate- and nut-covered wafers. The meal concluded with tea and coffee service: steaming glass tisanes followed by individual French press pots of coffee. I felt spoiled by the perfectly appointed farm-to-table meal in an ethereal atmosphere.

Get your postcards ready for the 2022 season and tune in to The Lost Kitchen’s social media to learn when you should send them in. I hope you too get an opportunity to enjoy the unique privilege of dining there.

Source: https://gardencourte.com
Categories: Kitchens