Nothing says old money like the Heathman Hotel, especially in its formal dining room, which Portland's upper-crust families have adopted as their second home. Buttressed by walls of creamy marble with tall ceilings and plate-glass windows, the restaurant rests austerely on its haute-cuisine laurels despite the bottom-line consciousness brought by a big-chain buyout in 2000. Still, the blue-hairs with symphony tickets bask in all the French fanciness. For the rest of us, chef Philippe Boulot's kitchen gets props for reaching a little beyond the Gallic palate with gnocchi in the coq au vin and halibut ceviche in lime juice and coconut milk. Perfectly sauced meats arrive with a few glitches—the lamb is overdone, the mushrooms too crunchy—but the sumptuous trio of crèmes brûlées (chocolate, vanilla and espresso) leaves us too helpless to complain. (AV)