Feast Day at St. Jack
June 28, 2012
Plump, delicious mussels.
It started innocently. A celebration, a family gathering, a long-anticipated meal at a casual SE neighborhood restaurant. After trying several times over the months to meet up at St. Jack, we finally got a reservation in time for J’s birthday.
The five of us — Margaret, Zandra, James, J and I — snagged one of the shade-side sidewalk tables where we were entertained by not one but two boom-box bicycle parades. Meanwhile several near collisions (bike/person, car/bike) at the precarious Clinton and 21st Street intersection kept us slightly on edge and reluctantly captivated.
We ordered a bottle of French rosé and perused the menu, a tantalizing French bistro affair. Having recently dined here, James and Zandra suggested the unlisted chef’s-choice tasting menu. Always willing to put our appetites in the hands of a trusted chef, J, Margaret and I jumped on board. With growling stomachs as our guide, we also put in an order for a couple of starters, although Zandra tried to warn us: It was going to be a lot of food. But the fried beef tripe was too intriguing to pass up, and the chicken liver mousse was a solid backup. Our fate was sealed.
Plated on mismatched grandma’s china, the mousse and the tripe were beautiful to look at, beautiful to taste. Silky, creamy mousse spread on slices of baguette was earthy and gratifying, but the tripe … oh my. A far cry from the gamey, rubbery tripe I’m familiar with, this had to have been soaked in milk for hours. Mildly flavored with a soft, melting texture under the crisp golden batter, and served with capers and red onion mayonnaise, it was simply delicious.
How the chef chooses what to serve when given free rein is unknown; our waiter said it was his whim and changes from table to table. I imagine he took a cue from our choice of tripe and chicken liver mousse and decided to send us on an adventure, because the feast that followed is unlike anything we ever would have imagined putting together ourselves.
Following our appetizers came our chef’s choice of hors d’oeuvres: a lovely selection of cheeses followed by a composed salad of leafy greens, beans and perfectly boiled egg wedges topped with medium-rare poached salmon. Then came melt-in-the-mouth sweetbreads; tender sliced veal tongue topped with crumbled egg; and fried frog legs en persillade, a white wine and lemon sauce with parsley, garlic, capers and a healthy dose of butter.
The line between hors d’oeuvres and plats principaux was blurred with the arrival of gratin d’escargots, a decadent melted melange of Gruyere, ham, snails, mushrooms and herbs over crouton. By this time we could have been done and happily so, but two empty bowls foretold the coming of shellfish. And, lo, two servings of plump mussels landed in front of us, swimming in a soppable soup flavored with garlic, fennel and vermouth.
But nothing could have prepared us for the pièce de résistance: a platter mounded with white bean ragout, whole baby carrots and crispy roulade of tête de cochon. I guess you could rationalize that the white bean ragout cut the fat of the that incredibly rich, butter-soft pig’s head, but there was no denying the decadence of this dish. The decadence of this meal. By the time the tête arrived, I had forgotten the existence of my camera, which is probably for the better. Such gluttony is best left undocumented.
I wish I could say common sense took over and this is all we ate. But no. We had a short break to let it all settle before the arrival of the dessert parade: rhubarb mousse cake with crème fraîche and poached rhubarb; a pillow of Italian meringue in a pool of crème anglaise topped with the reddest, freshest strawberries; chocolate and cherry trifle; and a small terrine of still-warm homemade madeleines lightly dusted with sugar. Oh, and because it was J’s birthday, he received his very own mini cannele — a tiny molded cake with a firm custard center. Complete with candle. Goodness.
We went into St. Jack expecting an excellent meal because we’d heard only raves. But I can honestly say that it’s been years since I’ve had a meal like that, and we probably won’t see another like it anytime soon. A memorable feast, a decadent celebration.
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- Plump, delicious mussels.
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- Chicken liver mousse as pretty as dessert.
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- Like no other tripe I’ve tried.
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- A trio of cheeses.
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- A composed salad with salmon and eggs.
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- Sweetbreads.
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- Tender and flavorful lengua.
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- Frog’s legs in a zingy caper sauce.
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- Ham + cheese + crouton + escargots = Melted goodness.
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- Plump mussels in soppable broth.
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- Italian meringue reminded us of Marshmallow Fluff, in a good way.
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- Rhubarb mousse cake, so pretty in pink.
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- Still slightly warm from the oven, homemade madelines.
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- Dark summer fruit turned naughty.
Joel Palmer House in Dayton
May 14, 2012
A perfectly irresistible dish: Joe Palmer House’s Lobster Newberg.
Every once in a while, and never often enough, a perfect day comes around. With no set formula, no particular sequence, it’s impossible to create a day like this; if you try, it never feels exactly right. You can plan the events, but something intangible happens to make a day perfect. Last Saturday was a perfect day.
After weeks of rain, the sun was shining and the weather forecast promised temperatures more in line with July than early May. Awakened by chirping birds through open bedroom windows, we started our day feeling optimistic. A mundane commitment, mulch delivery, was due sometime between 10am and 1pm, but the guys arrived an hour early, freeing up some time for a brisk walk before meeting James and Zandra for our quarterly wine-tasting tour. Joining us were Ken and Michelle, for whom this was a wine-club pickup round. We’d never met Ken and Michelle, but I could tell by the laughter and they were genial and easy to be around.
Our first stop was Zerba Cellars‘ tiny tasting room on the main strip into Dundee. From there we went to Natalie’s Estate Winery in the foothills of the Chehalem Mountain AVA. And our last stop was De Ponte Cellars, a perennial favorite for the breathtaking views from the patio and, of course, their beautiful wines. Ken and Michelle had brought a small cooler with cheese, salami and crackers, so we ordered a bottle of De Ponte Pinot Noir rosé, and soaked in the still-novel sun. Cheese devoured, wine gone, we purchased the wine we can never seem to leave without, and were on our way to the Joel Palmer House, the culinary shrine to mushrooms in nearby Dayton. Seated at our pleasant patio table, early-evening sun filtering through the trees onto the crisp white tablecloth, we knew we had one of the best tables in the house.
Our meal commenced with an amuse-bouche trio: a delicate prawn, a bite of wild-mushroom risotto, and a taste of Dungeness crab salad. This fanciful gift was followed by our shared appetizers that started with six delectable Yaquina Bay oysters, one for each of us. (For me, a single oyster evokes elation then disappointment, its fleeting perfection leaving me greedy for more.) But there were other small plates to distract us after the divine briny bite. Next came a beautiful plate of beef tartare, infused with white truffles and served with brioche triangles, the beef tender and silky on the tongue. A generous wedge of three-mushroom tart followed, earthy, dense and flavorful with porcini sauce. The guys ordered wild mushroom soup, and the rest of us dipped in, ooh-ing an aah-ing over the creamy deliciousness.
For entrees, Zandra had butter poached Maine lobster over pasta with a mushroom and white wine cream sauce that caused ripples of entree envy across the table. J also indulged in pasta, a rarity these days, but the offering of morel mushrooms in a creamy truffle sauce over penne triumphed over any lingering willpower. And speaking of lacking willpower, James and I both were unable to resist the over-the-top house specialty, beef stroganoff. The beef, soft and flavorful, recalled the silky tartare from earlier, and the rice reminiscent of the wild-mushroom risotto from the amuse, all bathed in mushroom cream sauce. Luxurious is the first word that comes to mind. Indulgent is the second.
If only to prolong our time on the patio — certainly not because we were still hungry — we ordered dessert: a trio of sorbets. By the end of it all, Zandra declared this her new favorite restaurant, and received no dissent from the rest of us. We will dine at the Joel Palmer House again soon. (Though, I have to say that our alfresco experience probably contributed to our heightened impression. Inside looks pleasant, but the patio is divine on a beautiful day.)
The air still warm long after the sun had set, we drove away happy and sated. In our usual meeting spot where we had left our car, we gathered our wine and said goodnight to our family and our new friends, grateful for the fine camaraderie, a perfect day in our rear-view mirror.
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- A perfectly irresistible dish: Joe Palmer House’s Lobster Newberg.
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- A beautiful gift from the sea.
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- Risotto and crab amuse-bouche.
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- Yaquina Bay oysters with Pinot Noir mignonette.
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- Heidi’s Three-Mushroom Tart with “white truffle snow” scattered on the plate.
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- Beef tartare.
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- Mushroom soup announces itself.
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- Creamy, rich, mushroom-laden beef stroganoff.
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- Another creamy indulgence: Penne with mushroom sauce.
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- Michelle’s sturgeon with sauteed morel mushroom duxelle, over quinoa.
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- Ken’s perfectly crusted elk — one of the nightly specials.
Meriwether’s Restaurant on NW Vaughn Street
May 3, 2012
A few of our favorite Meriwether’s pantry board choices.
It’s May!
It’s not Monday!
It only rained three times today!
Each of those is a minor victory, and therefore an excuse to celebrate. That, and we were lucky enough to have a gift card for Meriwethers tucked in a drawer, yearning to be used. So use it we did on a recent Tuesday night.
Meriwether’s is one of the first restaurants James and Zandra took us to before we moved to Portland, and since then it’s been the site of more than a couple of birthday celebrations. Something about this place feels like a special-occasion destination. The historic building once marked the entrance to the 1905 World’s Fair and retains an element of rusticity. Dark wood floors, huge stone fireplaces, log ceiling beams and grand windows add drama to the dining room’s elegant farmhouse feel. It’s the kind of place most people would feel comfortable bringing the parents or grandparents for a celebratory meal: well lit, workable noise level, attentive service.
But, really, it’s the food that keeps us coming back. Meriwether’s, like many Portland restaurants, is a farm-to-fork kind of place, but with a twist: It operates its own farm, Skyline Farm, in Northwest Portland, and the menu changes frequently based on the week’s harvest. On more than one occasion, we’ve threatened to make a meal of the pantry-board section and this one was no different. Choose one, three or five items (better go for five — choosing is difficult) and share the glorious small bites. We had the Oregonzola-stuffed dates; light and crispy fried sweetbreads with a smoky chipotle aioli; crab deviled eggs; cauliflower gratin; and anchovy avocado toast. All were delicious, but of the five, the anchovy avocado toast stood out: avocado spread over toasted bread with two fillets of anchovy layered on top. Salty, creamy, two bites of bliss.
Pizza with prosciutto and greens.
Tempting as it is to order these delicious nibbles all night, we soldier on to the lower half of the menu. A selection of salads is next, followed by pasta and grains, all of which come in small or large sizes, conducive to mixing and matching, depending on your level of curiosity and hunger. Each of us ordered the farmhouse salad with fennel and shaved pecorino cheese: simple, lovely. For entrees, Zandra had a deliciously chewy papardelle with a meaty ragu — gorgeous. The night’s most-unexpected award went to J’s halibut entree served over Asian stir-fried vegetables with a bit of spice. (Stir fry? At Meriwether’s? Sure, why not.) James and I both selected from the bar menu. I had the bacon cheese burger with truffle salt fries. The burger was good, if not memorable. Leftover aioli from the sweetbreads made for tasty fry sauce. James ordered the pizza: a large, oblong flatbread mounded with arugula and prosciutto. With enough greens to satiate a hungry goat, it’s likely the least guilt-inducing pizza on earth, and a tasty one at that.
Chalk it up to being a Tuesday night, or that the service on this particular evening was scattered, leaving us sitting longer than we’d planned, but we skipped dessert. No matter, there will always be the next time we have a reason to celebrate.
Clarklewis on SE Water
January 14, 2012
Grilled lamb with rapini, farro and sugo.
Friday the 13th.
Among the superstitious, it’s a discouraging black mark on the calendar. Now, I am not without my quirks, but I’m not one for extreme superstition. I do approach the day with some amount of caution, however — just in case. But when my workday ended early, J unexpectedly got the day off and Zandra suggested dinner out, I knew the stars had aligned in our favor. The night’s destination was Clarklewis on industrial SE Water Street.
A few steps lead up from the street into a boisterous, loft-style dining room. Walls and pillars are painted a sleek, dramatic black; the bustling kitchen and a cracking wood-fired oven occupy the large corner facing the entrance. Opposite stands a wall of garage doors that, in warmer months, open onto the street.
The kitchen is all about fresh, local ingredients with French and Italian notes. Divided into starters, salads, fresh pasta, entrees and of course dessert, the daily changing menu is well rounded with three to five options under each header. We started with Quinalt steelhead caviar — briny medium-sized yellow eggs served with potato croquettes — and grilled Monterey Bay calamari with an irresistibly soppable onion broth. If you’re lucky enough to snag the calamari, order extra bread.
We each ordered salads, covering all three on the menu. James and Zandra both had the Oregon Dungeness crab salad, a fresh mix of crab, endive, avocado and citrus. J ordered the baby greens with pomegranates, feta, apples and candied walnuts. Yup, good. But among the salads, my beet terrine was the standout: a beautiful cross-section of layered beets and goat cheese with a drizzle of balsamic. Trying that at home for sure.
Succumbing to the siren’s call, my mates all chose fresh pasta as the main course. Available in two portion sizes, pasta can precede an entree, or be an entree in and of itself. Knowing I likely would be making pasta this weekend, I skipped the noodles, but lucky for me I had bites from each of their plates. James’s rigatoni was a creamy concoction of butternut squash, Brussels sprouts, Oregon black truffle and Parmesan cheese. J had a glorious mound of spaghetti with duck confit, hedgehog mushrooms, egg, creamy bits of roasted garlic and Parmesan. Zandra, in my opinion, had the night’s winner: tagliatelle with lamb ragu and Pecorino Toscano, fragrant with rosemary. My entree: beautifully medium-rare grilled lamb atop farro and a rich lamb sugo (a tomato-y meat sauce) with preserved cherries for a bit of tart-sweetness.
Desserts were chocolate profiteroles for J; bright citrus panna cotta for Zandra; and a cheese board for James and me.
Full and happy, we headed out into the chill toward home, where later I sneaked a forkfull of J’s leftover pasta. One bite led to another, and, well, (sorry, sweetie) I ate the whole thing. Thank goodness he wasn’t too mad. I guess it was just my lucky day.
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- Grilled lamb with rapini, farro and sugo.
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- Quinalt steelhead caviar and potato croquettes.
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- Grilled calamari with onion broth. Sop it. Love it.
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- Rigatoni, butternut squash, truffles, Brussles sprouts and Parmesan.
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- Lamb ragu tagliatelle.
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- Creamy citrus-spiked panna cotta.
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- Three beautiful cheeses.
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- Profiteroles.
Skyline Burgers on NE Broadway
January 9, 2012
Mushroom Swiss burger and fries. And fry sauce. Wait, fry sauce?
A bleak, cold, rainy, winter weekend in Portland. Logical activities for this kind of weather might include curling up with a warm dog, diving into a good book or perhaps organizing a sock drawer. But this is the Northwest, and neither rain, nor wind, nor sleety cold deters any self-respecting PDXian. So what do we do? We head out for one of our epic walks, followed by a late-afternoon lunch. This time, our target is Skyline Burgers on Broadway.
Outside, it’s an inconspicuous storefront with an almost miss-able sign. Inside, a rather unexpectedly cavernous diner displays what I can only call a creative assortment of entertainment and aesthetic choices: sparkling red and grey vinyl booths, a wall mural of what could be a pair of “Happy Days” characters (if Richie Cunningham had insanely bulging forearms), a gigantic projection TV, and a handful of arcade video games. It’s perfectly quirky, and therefore perfect for us.
We sat down at one of the booths next to the front windows and ordered a couple of drinks — a full bar is always welcome during or after an epic walk. The meaty menu comprises apps, sandwiches, burgers, dogs, salads, soups, classic diner entrees and fountain drinks. We knew going in what we were going to order. If “burger” is in the name, that’s what we’re eating, by golly. For me, a mushroom Swiss burger. For J, a giant cheese burger with bacon. To start, mac-and-cheese wedges (can’t put something as wacky as that on a menu and not expect me to order it) and a cup of split pea soup.
So, the mac and cheese wedges. You’ve got your basic box-style mac and cheese, formed into triangles, deep fried and served with ranch dressing. Oh, and celery and carrots, if you care a whit about vegetables. They were good, not amazing. More of a novelty than a great dish, but a great idea. (I would try a version at home.) The soup: good, hearty and pea-green. Just what you crave on a wet, cold day.
Now for the burgers. These are of the skinny-patty variety, and not a bad example at all. Despite being skinny patties, mine was medium rare — a pleasant surprise. The bun was a decent sesame seed kind. Good bun/patty ratio. Critical. The fixins were lettuce leaves (not shredded), dill pickles, sliced red onions, sliced tomatoes and mayo, resulting in a pleasant flavor combination. In our experience, the skinny-patty burger is as much about the accoutrements as the burger itself. Skyline Burger’s version had a good mix. French fries accompanied the burgers: lovely flavor, could be crisper. But what what’s this? Fry sauce? Why, Skyline, we didn’t expect to see this home-state (Utah) standard here. And is that a hint of horseradish? Well played. We ate. We sipped. We were pleased. And full.
Warmed from the insides, and just numb enough to not care about pulling on already-soaked coats, we headed out, up the hill. Toward the warm dog, unread books and a completely messed-up sock drawer.
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- Mushroom Swiss burger and fries. And fry sauce. Wait, fry sauce?
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- Mac and cheese wedges. And veg, of course.
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- Burger, fries and pea soup.
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- Bacon cheddar close up.
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- The mac. The cheese. The wedge.
Veritable Quandary’s Late-Night Bar Menu
January 7, 2012
Dates stuffed with chevre, wrapped in bacon. I could eat 20 of these.
The first Tuesday in January, and we had tickets to “West Side Story” at the Keller Auditorium — a Christmas gift from J to me.
“Get cool!”
snap
snap
snap
Afterwards, we shish-ka-boom-ba’d (jazz hands!) over to Veritable Quandary to have a late-night supper from the bar menu, and were pleasantly surprised to find a lively crowd sipping cocktails and ordering food at 10:3o pm — our kind of people. What an awesome little spot this is. The vintage fixtures, high-ceilings, exposed brick walls, milk-glass light globes and high-backed wooden booths reminded me of ancient bars commonly found in Chicago. And the late-night menu doesn’t default to the fried and frozen. Instead, it’s bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with creamy chevre, crispy duck confit spring rolls, grilled flatbread pizza topped with fresh mozzarella slices and a bevy of salty Italian meats.
Though we were tempted, we resisted stuffing ourselves with rabbit pate, the Dungeness crab cake or that seductive burger, and we didn’t even consider looking at the dinner menu. Great excuse to come back, of course. “There’s a place for us … somewhere a place for us …” I think it’s at the VQ bar!
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- Dates stuffed with chevre, wrapped in bacon. I could eat 20 of these.
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- Duck confit spring rolls
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- Flatbread pizza with Italian meats.
Now Open (Again): Aviary
January 1, 2012
Kerr canning jars with a sprig of rosemary are part of the table settings at Aviary.
Aviary is finally open again, months after a July 4th roof fire shuttered the chic small-plates eatery on Alberta Street. The space looks basically the same except for the addition of a sleek bar in back, much appreciated if you must wait for a table. Just as before, the menu features beautifully composed dishes with nicely balanced flavors. As before the fire, our only complaint is the sometimes-spotty service.
Nevertheless, we consider ourselves lucky to have Aviary back in the neighborhood, and we look forward to many more dinners. Here are some photos from our New Year’s Eve prix-fixe dinner.
Bar Lolo: New Look, Updated Menu
October 18, 2011
Bar Lolo's new look.
Hey, Lolo! (Sorry … Bar Lolo.) So great to see you the other night. It’s been a while, and we have to say you are looking good. Really good. You’ve taken some time to focus on yourself, and it has paid off.
It looks like you’ve kept the best of what attracted us to begin with, and made a few small, but standout changes. First, we adore the pops of color — those coral-crimson chairs and bar stools, the wall of colorful paella pans and the natural wood wine holder really stand out against the cool putty colored walls and floor. And the blinged-out longhorn cow skull over the door proves you haven’t lost your sense of humor. We’re also totally digging the fact that you’re really getting back to your tapas-bar roots. The high wooden tables along the window scream Madrid. I see J and I and our fellow neighborhoodies dropping in after work for a glass of Albariño, cider or a cocktail, and a few small bites before a night on the town.
You’ve also made a few positive changes to the menu. We sampled quite a few tapas last night, including our longtime favorite shredded romaine salad, but I have to say, those specials you whipped up: Warm mission figs topped with Serrano ham and Gorgonzola? Are you kidding me? I thought I’d died and gone to heaven with that salty-sweet medley. I’m so glad we placed a last-minute order for the special paella croquettes — crispy fried spheres, perfectly proportioned, oozing with hot saffron-scented paella, chicken and shrimp in the middle. Incredible. We also love that you ditched the full-size burger in favor of delicious mini lamb sliders. Such a treat. And though we didn’t need them, we could not resist the piping-hot churros with chocolate and honey dipping sauces. You really outdid yourself.
It was good catching up, Lolo. You look good, and you seem to have your groove back. The makeover has done done wonders, and I hope it gets you the attention you deserve. Maybe we can hang out sometime?
A Perfect Saturday: Wine Tasting and Dinner at Tina’s
September 4, 2011
Chinook salmon with corn, zucchini hash.
Labor Day weekend: Three gloriously lazy days lay out in front of us like a well-fed housecat on a hot day. And what better way to start a long weekend than a leisurely day of sipping local wines, followed by an intimate dinner with family.
Saturday was warm and windy, and wildfires in Central Oregon and near Mount Hood made the already-soft September light that much more hazy. The views promised by the latest edition of Portland Monthly were sure to be obscured by smoke. Undeterred, we — J, Zandra, James and I — met in Tualatin and started our excursion. We headed first to Penner-Ash Wine Cellars, with sweeping views of the Chehalem Valley from the patio overlooking the well-tended garden. We sampled Viognier, Pinot Noir, Syrah and Rubeo, and toasted our good fortune at living in such a beautiful place. Next, it was on to Trisaetum (pronounced tri-SAY-tum), an elegant winery/art gallery with a stunning barrel cave in the basement. After that, we stopped at Lemelson and Anne Amie wineries, picking up more Pinot Gris, dry Riesling and Pinot Noir along the way. Happily we bumped down the dusty gravel roads, our wine-laden trunk weighing heavily behind us.
Not the most strenuous activity, wine tasting nevertheless piques the appetite, so at 5:30, we headed to Tina’s in Dundee for an early supper. The cozy dining room has a cottage feel with soft yellow walls, sunny windows and a central fireplace. Crisp white table linens add a refined note to the otherwise casually intimate space, which fills up fast, even early in the evening. The menu showcases local and seasonal products, of course, so in keeping with our day, we started off with a Cristom Estate Pinot Gris to complement our starters: grilled calamari on a bed of greens; a glorious, generous slice of country duck pate; and pan-fried Yaquina Bay oysters with sorrel sauce, the oysters so tender they dissolved on the tongue.
The next course offered a choice of the house salad or corn soup, a sweet, creamy burst of color that tasted like sunshine, and evoked the childhood memory of creamed corn.
For entrees, Zandra and I ordered the Chinook salmon, seared crisp and served atop a corn, zucchini and pancetta hash with silky fennel puree beneath. Summer … Pow! James had the tenderloin with roasted fingerlings, porcini and a darkly rich demi glace — delicious flavors, but unfortunately the beef arrived cooked beyond the requested medium rare. For J, it was the roasted duck breast, cooked perfectly medium rare (in your face, tenderloin), and accompanied by a cabbage and jicama slaw and a crunchy, savory-sweet walnut cornbread.
And dessert: bubbly blueberry cobbler a la mode and, for the chocolate fiends among us, chocolate mousse cake with chocolate truffle ice cream.
Dragging our full bellies and heavy trunk, we headed back to Tualatin where we divided the day’s booty. Family, good food, good wine. One memorable day.
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- Chinook salmon with corn, zucchini hash.
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- The smoky view from Penner-Ash.
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- Penner-Ash Garden view.
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- Garden at Penner-Ash.
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- Black-eyed Susan a la Penner-Ash.
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- The view at Anne Amie.
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- Anne Amie’s patio.
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- Inside Tina’s.
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- Comforting, summery corn soup.
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- Duck breast.
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- Blueberry cobbler.
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- Chocolate lover’s dream.
Mash Tun: Summer Edition
August 6, 2011
Fried zucchini sticks. (Careful: HOT.)
Saturday night in early August. The seasons have shifted, but our cravings remain much the same. So we head down the street for the familiar burgers, amiable service and laid-back vibe at our fave neighborhood brewpub.
+ daylight.
Mash Tun’s new outdoor patio (wisteria-covered trellis should start to fill in next year) is a welcome addition to the neighborhood. And with Pine State Biscuits’ outdoor seating just next door, 22nd and Alberta is a corner to be reckoned with. (Oh … and we discovered the fried zucchini strips. Not listed on the menu as an app; only as a sandwich. Ask for them. Good stuff. )
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- Fried zucchini sticks. (Careful: HOT.)
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- Burger in hand worth two in a bush. Or something.
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- Pretty with the umbrellas. Note the sun.
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- MT burger and tots.
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- MT salad. Bacon. Cheese. Mushrooms.
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- THE best corner in all of NEPO.
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- Pine State’s patio from our perch at Mash Tun.
Chile Verde Chronicles 