The dining room was recently refurbished with fresh paint and new artwork. But it's still a simple room, nothing super fancy. It seems that in keeping the room simple, Evans lets the food do the talking. It's the food that lets you know just how serious a place Hugo's really is.

A little before three in the afternoon, Rick Tibbetts enters the kitchen. Evans calls him a "great forager," and today he has just returned from the Maine woods where he gathered ramps (wild leeks), something called "belly greens" (a watercress-like peppery leaf), and several varieties of wild Maine mushrooms. Evans takes everything Tibbetts offers; in season, Evans uses Maine-grown ingredients between 60 percent and 80 percent of the time). He begins working with his garde manger*, Jake Hurn to plan the specials. Hurn will use the ramps as part of tonight's "soup and sandwich" special-one of Evans's many plays on diner terminology. At Hugo's, "soup and sandwich" translates to a deconstructed Reuben sandwich-in this case, house-made corned beef tongue served with condiments on the side and a grilled potato-ramp soup with pickled ramps on top.

Over at the dessert station, Bill Leavy works on the evening's sweets. He melts a block of dark chocolate for the chocolate and banana cream and then layers it with chocolate mousse, a chocolate cake base, and a toffee crumble topping. It will be served with lightly salted peanut ice cream. Simultaneously, he works on the petit fours, cheese plate, biscotti for the bar, a French pound cake with a cherry puree topping, and a toasted almond milkshake. He also places fresh rhubarb into a pasta machine to make "Rhubarb Pasta," another great example of how Evans likes to rethink food. Rhubarb is almost always served in pies and cobblers; its stringy texture and tart flavor is classically paired with strawberries. But by putting it through a pasta machine and creating long thin strips, rhubarb takes on a silky texture. The pale pink pasta strips are not bitter and crying out for sugar, but seem to take on a new dimension of taste.

At the stove, working near Evans, Melissa Coriaty, the sous chef, is in charge of fish and some of the meat dishes. She's been at Hugo's for close to a year and a half. The only woman in the kitchen (other than Evans' wife, Nancy), the petite Coriaty works quietly and with an astounding calmness. She wears a satisfied smile on her face as she rolls the dough for homemade ravioli and braises veal cheeks into a ragout for the ravioli filling. Evans comes over and adds paper-thin sheets of gelatin to the ragout. Gelatin, a natural thickener, is used a lot in the Hugo's kitchen. In this case, the gelatin will thicken the veal just enough (without the heaviness of flour) so that when the ragout is between the thin, delicate ravioli sheets, it won't fall apart. Coriaty then blanches spinach for the filet of lemon sole and prepares scallop gelee (a kind of savory jellied cube) that will top the potato soup, tonight's amuse-bouche, a tiny dish designed to whet the palate.

Chad Conley is working the meat station. A mere twenty-one years old, he landed a job washing dishes at Duck Fat, Evans' other Portland restaurant (a casual café that makes some of the best French fries in America, amazing panini sandwiches, homemade soda, and beignets. Evans "discovered" a passion in Conley. "I tend to hire on passion over resume," Evans says, explaining his young protégé. "This kid did dishes and had a really strong work ethic,  so I gave him a chance. But, I watch over him."

Conley doesn't seem to mind at all. He appears to be the kind of apprentice who is eager to take any feedback the chef offers. He's often the first to arrive in the kitchen at the early hour of 8:45 a.m. (early when you consider he won't leave until well past midnight).

By 3:30 p.m., the activity level in the kitchen goes up a notch or two. Sauces are simmering, cakes are baking, meats are roasting. The kitchen feels like a well-oiled clock-everyone taking care of their little piece of the whole, making sure everything is ready when the first guests arrive at 5:30 p.m.

Without my noticing, Evans has been preparing the dinner for the staff-braised chicken legs with meat so tender it falls off the bone. There are also super-fluffy mashed potatoes and a pasta dish. The chefs come over from their work stations when they have a free moment and grab a plate. There's too much work to even consider sitting down for dinner. I taste the chicken and wonder how plain braised chicken can be so tender and taste this good.