These Maine restaurants serve up complete menus from incomplete kitchens
Portland, Maine — In the basement of a former brownstone in New York City decades ago, a cook learning the hard way about kitchen ventilation filled a room with smoke while searing squab breasts, nearly setting off alarms at the James Beard House. That cautionary tale underscores why exhaust hoods are indispensable in commercial kitchens — yet a growing number of Maine restaurants are proving that with the right equipment and ingenuity, it's possible to prepare ambitious menus without them.
These establishments are turning to induction cooktops, combi ovens with internal venting, and creative cooking techniques to avoid smoke and grease-laden vapors, all while saving tens of thousands of dollars in installation costs. From Portland to Camden, chefs are embracing limitations as a catalyst for innovation.
The impetus often comes down to economics. Installing a commercial exhaust hood can exceed $50,000, depending on labor and structural requirements. When Alex Wight was planning Elizabeth, a French wine bar and restaurant that opened in fall 2024 at 47 Wharf St. in Portland, she wanted to include bistro classics like steak frites. However, the space lacked a hood, and vendors quoted six-figure prices for installation. "I really wanted to confirm for myself that it was not a possibility," Wight said. After discovering articles about San Francisco restaurants thriving without hoods, she decided to move forward with the concept, trusting her chefs to adapt.
Chef Duncan Biddulph, who runs the kitchen at Elizabeth alongside pastry chef Ashley Robinson, admits the setup seemed surreal at first. "I walk past Street & Co. pretty much every day, and I see into their kitchen with their 12 burners and two deep fryers and big char grill. We have three induction burners and two ovens, and that's that. It's unreal," he said. Yet the kitchen is equipped with two Rational combi ovens, which offer precise temperature and moisture control with self-contained ventilation systems. "Everything takes place in that oven, from baking cakes to searing and long, slow braises," Biddulph explained. They even make stocks in the combi oven to avoid steaming the dining area.
The menu at Elizabeth is tailored to the equipment. While traditional pan-searing is off the table, Biddulph roasts halibut in moist heat, browns duck confit legs in the oven, and bakes Jonah crab soufflés instead of frying crab cakes. For a twist on steak frites, he serves slices of roasted sirloin with peppercorn sauce and ultra-thin fries cooked over low heat and crisped in the oven. Some dishes didn't survive the transition: Parisienne gnocchi, which require high heat to brown, were scrapped, as were gougères, which needed different oven temperatures.
Robinson noted that the electric ovens and induction burners keep the open kitchen cooler, making the workspace more comfortable. "Induction cooking is such a different physical experience as a cook, and it's ultimately more humane," she said.
The hoodless model isn't new to Maine. The original Drifters Wife on Washington Avenue in Portland earned a James Beard Award nomination for Best New Restaurant in 2017, using only two induction burners and a convection oven. Today, Table Bar in Gardiner continues the approach. Co-owner Billy Rosser hired Jimmy Leftis, a former Drifters Wife cook, to design their open kitchen. They rely on pristine local produce and seafood that needs minimal manipulation. "It's about the simplicity of it," Rosser said. "It's something you could do in your apartment." Their menu includes chicken ballotines, black trumpet risotto, and meatballs in marinara — a nod to burgers they can't make without a grill.
In Camden, Winona's opened in 2024 after chefs Devin Dearden and Hannah Adams found that adding a hood to their Elm Street space would cost around $50,000. "We couldn't justify opening that far in debt," Dearden said. Working with two induction burners, an under-counter convection oven, and an Instant Pot, Dearden has learned to work with steam and dry heat. He browns the cut sides of turnips in a dry nonstick skillet before finishing them in the oven, and roasts salmon coated in blackening spices in a lidded pan to contain smoke and steam. "The part of the fish in contact with the pan will blacken, and the rest of the fish will steam and cook through," he explained. "It worked really well. And I was excited to be able to serve something that wasn't poached."
Dearden acknowledges the challenges but views them as opportunities. "If I had a full kitchen with a grill, it would be much easier to execute service. But I'm embracing where we're at with it. And rather than getting frustrated, I try to take it as a challenge. By having these limitations, I've gotten to places I wouldn't have gotten," he said.
Wight sees a broader philosophy in this trend. "Because there's such an absence of resources, to be able to execute on the same level, if not better, magnifies the talent, thought and care of the people behind the cuisine," she said. Her experience on Great Diamond Island, where wastewater restrictions led to creative service solutions, taught her that limitations can foster creativity. "One of the lessons I learned over the past nine years on the island is that limitations don't necessarily have to be dead ends. If anything, they force you to be creative and resourceful."
For Dearden, the ultimate goal is the food itself. "I'd rather people just be simply impressed by the food. If they're also impressed by my limitations, that's just a garnish on top," he said.
These Maine restaurants demonstrate that with imagination and the right tools, a lack of traditional ventilation doesn't have to limit culinary ambition.
