Published: Sun, Sep. 23, 2007 12:00AM

Modified Sun, Sep. 23, 2007 02:10AM

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At Park Kitchen, it was tomato season, with heirlooms including one of my favorites, Green Zebra. Combinations that didn't sound as if they'd work glowed because of the quality of the ingredients and the chef's imagination.

Like the fruit soup my husband wanted. I don't get fruit soups, I just don't. Most taste like puréed Smuckers. When I was food editor, I ran a story on fruit soups solely because it filled an awkward space inside the section. I've regretted it ever since.

But the Chilled Melon Soup with Spicy Almonds we tasted was completely different. Not too sweet, not too thick, with a little bite from the almonds. It was refreshing and made, no doubt, with melons right off the vine.

Yes, more restaurants in the Triangle are exploring local ingredients, but the level of commitment that appears to exist in Portland isn't here yet. I'd like to see it.

Still, there are some things that heirloom tomatoes can't replace.

We had our final meal of the trip at Eleni's Estiatorio, a Greek restaurant focusing on the food specifically of Crete. The difference, according to our waitress, is spicier and less heavy flavors than traditional Greek food. For example, shrimp with a hot pepper sauce, and grilled calamari vs. breaded and fried.

Hearing our accents, another waitress rushed over.

"You called earlier, didn't you?" she said, excitedly. "I saw the 919 area code, and I thought, oh, 919!"

She was from Rocky Mount and has lived in Portland for about three years. She actually had a problem with Portland, land of organic marionberries, wild salmon and lovely lattes with leaf designs in the foam.

No one can make sweet iced tea there.

"Oh, they're real nice and they'll try, but they just can't," she wailed. "They try to dump the sugar in the cold tea, and you know that won't work."

I nodded, feeling her pain.

"No one seems to know about making, you know, the stuff in the bottle?"

Sugar syrup?

"Yes, yes. And that's the only thing that will work, once it's made."

I know, hon, I said, patting her distraught little arm. I promised that, if I ever returned, I'd make her the biggest pitcher of sweet Southern iced tea I could find.

So, sorry, Portland. No sweet tea? Guess I'll be staying right here.