Portland: Visions of Sugarplums

I might move to Portland just to start every day at Maurice.  Yes, it's that good. You know, as soon as you walk in and find yourself surrounded by that cozy aroma -  all butter and sugar and sugarplum fairies - that you've come to a very special place.  Look up and you find delicate garlands of dried fruit, flowers and herbs dancing above your head.  Sit down- in the window seat if possible- and prepare to be deliriously happy.

This is - I have to say it - one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten.  A citrus cloud, it whispers lemon, lemon, lemon as it slowly evaporates, leaving a trail of delicious memories in its wake. (Want the recipe for lemon souffle pudding?  Here it is. )

Have you ever seen a more adorable dessert than this chocolate capuchin? Don't miss those tiny berries in that puddle of cream: they contribute a little zing of wildness.

This bird seed coconut tea cake looks so mild and innocent.  That is entirely  deceiving.  The slim slice is a wonder of crunch and crackle, and as the butter slowly melts each bite astonishes you with unexpected flavors.  I can't think of a more perfect way to wake up.

Proprietress Kristen Murray is famous for her black pepper cheesecake.  And rightfully so.  Topped with a single ground cherry and tiny slices of plum, this is the cheesecake of your dreams: the cloying richness of ordinary cheesecake has magically vanished. The most mature cheesecake on earth.

We finished breakfast with this wonderful quiche. Kirsten pulls it from the oven while it's still slightly floppy; a brave move.  Airy and light, it seems held together with a wish.  After this other quiches start to seem clumsy. 

Kirsten's cookies.  Of course.

I sat there in a sweet daze, considering staying to lunch. But by now I was so happy all I wanted to do was walk around Portland, thinking how lucky I am to be here.

Maurice is, for me, the quintessential Portland restaurant.  Quirky, passionate and personal, the restaurant is named for Kirsten's rabbit.  Does he, I wonder, wear a little waistcoat and peer at a pocket watch?