Review of Blue Rooster Food Company

About two weeks ago TA and I stopped to get a couple sandwiches at the Blue Rooster Food Company (5 Dana St, Portland’s Old Port) and something bad happened, the counter person already knew my name.  I know, I know, really, how is that bad?  Well, you don’t know the dynamics of my marriage.  Just the look from TA put me on the defensive, “I wonder where I know him from?” I tried, but her look did not change.  “Maybe he’s good with names” I lamely blurted out.  No luck with that either.  OK, OK, I was busted.  I had to confess, I’m a (gulp) regular.  Strike one for the Blue Rooster – like bartenders who innately know not to be too familiar with a customer when he one day shows up with his wife, Blue Rooster’s counter help needs to show some discretion – my wife did not need to know how often I eat there.

I never meant to become a regular, it just happened.  It was unexpected and quick.  It literally took one bite from my first Red Eye Breakfast sandwich and I was hooked faster than a drug addict and his first crack experience.  Pork belly, hash browns, “red eye” mayonnaise, fried egg, all on a buttermilk biscuit.  The perfect breakfast sandwich even if they don’t open until 11AM.  There needs to be a warning label on the sandwich because the egg is so perfectly cooked that on that first bite, the piping hot runny yolk splashed onto my hand.  Hot egg yolk is like napalm, it sticks and cannot simply be wiped off with a napkin and one must either shower or lick the yolk off your hand.  I chose the latter.  That was just the beginning.

The menu stretches across the entire counter wall.

Tot-tine (tater tot poutine).  Tater tots, chicken gravy and cheese curds.  Need I say more?  (Ask for a four-tined plastic fork instead of the two-tined one they give you as the tot’s tend to fall apart when soaked with gravy).  I love the fried Brussels sprouts with queso but the tots keep calling to me like an antsy 2nd grader raising his hand with the answer to a question, “me, me, me!”  I have trouble resisting, though when TA is with me, I go with the sprouts and am always glad I did.  That’s the thing about Blue Rooster, even though they have food for me (The Crafty Swine - House-made country pate, peach mustard, pickled vegetable, local arugula – come on, this is just a sandwich shop), there are a lot of choices for her, including the Farmer Ted (Hummus, goat cheese, etc.) or the Schooner Tuna (with pickled onions and herbed fennel).  Unlike other hog-centric places, we can both eat here and be happy.

There are also the Maine made hot dogs.  You can get it plain, create your own, or chose from the long list of specialty dogs like the Das Boot (bacon-wrapped and house made kraut) and the Barking Dog (bacon wrapped, cheese sauce, onions).  I think the menu actually throws off a lot of tourists as I see many walk in, look over the choices posted on the wall-to-wall chalkboard and then turn and leave. Forgive them for they know not what they eat, unlike the drunks that I’m told line up late night (open until 2 AM weekends) who even in their intoxicated state, know this is really good food.

I couldn't just walk in and snap pictures.  That would be rude.  The Junkyard Dog.

I forgot to mention that this is basically a take-out place with limited inside perimeter stool or bench seating along two walls and the front window.  Even though the food is pretty sophisticated, this is not a fancy place. You are either served to-go in simple cardboard boxes or eat-in in plastic baskets.  On nice days, it’s not uncommon to walk across Commercial St. and find others sitting on the benches by the water eating tots from tell-tale brown cardboard boxes.  The counter people are friendly and efficient.   The main guy behind this place is Chef (that’s right, a real life chef in a sandwich shop) Damian Sansonetti, formerly of Bar Boulud in New York City which caters to the Opera crowd near Lincoln Center.  Think nose-to-tail French inspired.  Who knows why he left NYC to open a Portland sandwich shop (and a soon to open honest to goodness real restaurant).  Don’t ask, just be glad he did.