Pok Pok Noi on NE Prescott
August 4, 2011
Sweet, salty, savory Vietnamese fish-sauce wings.
Last Friday. It seems like a lifetime ago, now, but lingering throughout the oceanic week were memories of our casual takeout dinner from our new(ish) neighbor, Pok Pok Noi. Bearing little resemblance to the Thai menus I’m used to, Noi serves up traditional Thai street food easily eaten standing up, or perhaps sitting on a curb or stoop, food perched on knees. And, in keeping with the street-food theme, it’s not uncommon in the summertime to see couples sitting under umbrellas at the two sidewalk tables devouring ears of grilled corn, skewered meats and the like.
Located next door to Grain & Gristle, the tiny restaurant does a brisk takeout business, but you’ll always find people eating at the few seats at the bar, standing up by the front window overlooking the aforementioned picnic tables, or sitting on the petite patio out back. Walking through the front door, you’re greeted with the unmistakable aroma of fish sauce and chiles. The backlit signage next to the bar depicts the menu’s offerings, and a blackboard details a drinking vinegars and other libations, including bottled and draft beers, cocktails and coffees.
For our living-room picnic, we ordered the Het Paa Naam Tok, a salad made with forest mushrooms, shallots and lemongrass that arrived with a little container stuffed with a magical mixture of cilantro leaves, mint and a prickly toasted rice powder, When mixed with the meaty mushrooms, the result was an earthy, spicy, bright salad. And then the Papaya Pok Pok salad: julienned green papaya, tomatoes, and long beans with spicy, aromatic lime and fish sauce complementing the fresh veg. Optional soft-shell black crab makes the dish a bit of a project: biting, sucking, slurping and discarding, but delicious nonetheless. Alongside the dish, a plastic sandwich baggie with a scoop of sticky rice, easily pinched off and eaten with the fingers.
Beyond salads, we ordered the Muu Seteh, pork loin skewers topped with a tiny gem of glistening pork fat, served with an addictive peanut dipping sauce. But the star of this show is the much-written-about Vietnamese fish-sauce wings: a heap of dark, sticky, sweet, salty, meaty chicken wings, so addictive, savory and satisfyingly filling. The first time we ordered them, I could not fathom making a meal of chicken wings, and yet, that’s what happens.
We say it all the time, and you’ll probably tire of hearing it before we stop: We feel so lucky to live in this amazing neighborhood, and jewels like Pok Pok Noi make our good fortune that much better.
-
- Sweet, salty, savory Vietnamese fish-sauce wings.
-
- Pork loin skewers, peanut dipping sauce and toasted white bread.
-
- Forest mushrooms, cilantro, mint. Amazing.
Post-Fire Support on Alberta Street
July 12, 2011
Gotta love these recent stories from The Oregonian:
Portland restaurants help fireworks-damaged eatery on Northeast Alberta Street
Alberta Street businesses pull together after fire
Hats off to Umpqua Bank and Stumptown Coffee Roasters for offering a hand. Plus Andy Ricker of Pok Pok fame and the owners of Firehouse step up for one of our neighborhood faves that finds itself a bit down on its luck. It makes us that much happier that Ricker opened his takeout spot, Noi, in the area. He had our business before, but this is reinforcement. We’ll be popping into Firehouse sometime soon as well. Here’s hoping the folks at Aviary are back in business ASAP.
Grain & Gristle on NE Prescott
July 10, 2011
Scrapple and egg with house ketchup and mustard.
A lumberjack must have decorated this place. A free-spirit lumberjack with industrial-chic sensibility, perhaps. Timber prevails at Grain & Gristle on Prescott at NE 15th Ave, represented in the exposed ceiling beams, floors, tables, chairs, benches and the bar at the center of it all.
Cylindrical cages — baskets in which machine parts were dunked and washed, we learned — serve as light fixtures over the tables along either side of the room and contribute to the rustic vogue vibe. Blackboards announce the day’s specials, and a mixed-media mural of a grain harvester lends some amber-waves hominess.
We’ve eaten here twice now, and both meals were engaging enough that we’re threatening to become regulars. Our most recent visit came just as the Last-Thursday craziness on Alberta was winding down. (Perk No. 1 at G&G: They’re open late.) So, what were the winners?
The scrapple topped with a fried egg was a homey meatloaf-style, breakfast-esque dish, tasty any time of day. Also, housemade sausage simmered in a zesty-sweetish red curry sauce on a bed of crispy-salty fries offered delicious contrasts in flavor and texture. Curry fries? Yes, please. Other standouts: a little pot of pork rillets; a beet, arugula and blue cheese salad; a plate of pork rinds so crisp you can hear the crackling from across the room. (Perk No. 2 at G&G: The creative menu changes frequently.) A selection of draft beers complements the menu. (And Perk No. 3: G&G also has a full bar should you crave a martini with your rinds.)
During our first visit, J fulfilled his gastronomic duty and ordered the burger. Though he specified medium-rare, it arrived well-done, breaking a cardinal rule of burgerdom: The patty had shrunk and was smaller than the bun. But flavor and texture were delicious. So on our return he gave the burger another shot, with slightly better results — again a good crust on the patty, juicy, perfectly seasoned, but more medium than medium-rare. There’s some deviousness at work here: Even overcooked, the burger is good enough to keep us coming back, ever hopeful of perfect execution.
Overall, G&G is a welcome addition to our neighborhood. (Even more so now that the patio is open for business.) Get the burger right, and we will be friends for life.
Olympic Provisions, Southeast Portland
June 17, 2011
Smoked rockfish (front) and tesa with egg.
The goddess Athena walks into a restaurant and says to the bearded waiter, “Is that a house-cured salami in your deli case, or are you just happy to see me?”
OK, I confess: Comedy is not my calling. Eating, however, is one of my talents, and so on Saturday night the gang (James, Zandra, J and I) ventured into Southeast Portland’s industrial district for a feast at Olympic Provisions.
Turns out the restaurant’s name was not derived from the 12 Greek Olympians as I had fantasized. “Food of the gods,” and so forth. Rather, the restaurant is named for its warehouse home, the landmark Olympic Mills Commerce Center located next to the tracks, in the shadow of the I-5 freeway.
Inside, the industrial feel endures with cement floors, subway tiles, dark wood-topped tables and exposed light bulbs dangling from rustic cords. Iron-and-wood shelving showcases a variety of wines and pickled items. A deli case displays salami for sale along with mounds of chicken and potato salad, with old-school meat-counter price cards — you know, the kind with the exchangeable red numbers.
For drinks, we started off with a slightly effervescent rosado from the Basque region of Spain on the recommendation of our server. Her enthusiasm in describing wines and their origins proved her passion for the topic. We were in very good hands as she paired wines with our courses as we explored the menu.
The menu itself is a smallish affair, belying the big flavors it foretells. The list of small plates is divided into small bites (olives, pickles, etc.), vegetables, meat, and charcuterie. We started with the chef’s choice charcuterie (salami, pork rillettes, a terrine) alongside house-pickled veggies. An early standout was the silky, not-too-dense chicken liver pate spread on crostini and topped with shaved ribbons of sweet asparagus, to which Zandra declared, “I could have ordered 10 of those and called it good.” Amen, sister. But variety is the name of the game here, so like the feasting Olympians we strive to be, we ventured deeper into the menu: fork-tender squid in a brothy, sop-worthy harissa; chicken thigh, smoked sausage and delicately tender beef tongue in an herbaceous salsa verde broth redolent of mint; crisp roasted tesa (pork belly) atop pea shoots, all crowned by a fried egg, dissolved deliciously on the tongue; deeply smoky rockfish came served alongside fried potato squares and topped with a creamy horseradish sauce — the dishes kept coming.
Finally the dessert menu appeared, from which we ordered a trio of cheeses and a sticky, delicious caramel walnut tart. Nearly too stuffed to leave, we sipped our port and dessert wine and looked back on the meal we just devoured. Food fit for gods, indeed, but certainly no laughing matter.
-
- Chicken liver pate and asparagus ribbons.
-
- Beef tongue that melts in the mouth.
-
- Brothy, soppable squid.
-
- Sauteed spring greens and egg.
-
- Poached egg spilling over roasted tesa.
-
- Smoked rockfish (front) and tesa with egg.
Saturday Afternoon Oysters at Dan & Louis
May 23, 2011
Calamari, fries and oysters.
Saturday afternoon was cool, cloudy and dry — the perfect day for a long walk. J and I headed downtown, as we often do, and this week’s exploration took us to the northwest side of the city. After a good hour and a half of wandering, we headed back toward the river and to Dan & Louis Oyster Bar.
This was the second time the promise of oysters had lured us in. The first was in the middle of winter, when the oysters beckoned, but the real draw that soggy day was the prospect of stick-to-your-ribs clam chowder. Neither disappointed, and we knew we’d return.
Dan & Louis is an old-time storefront tucked away on Ankeny Street just west of the Saturday Market. A family-owned joint opened in 1907, the feel of the bar is what I imagine a fisherman’s hangout to be — nothing fancy, wood paneling, just the basics. The front bar area has a half-dozen or so wooden two-top tables and a bar backed by liquor of all sorts; a giant wooden ship’s steerer … wheel (what is it called? a helm, yes.); a lone TV in the corner is usually tuned to some game, race or sporting event. An old cistern from the early Portland days has been preserved near the door to the kitchen. Covered with a Plexiglass window and lit down below, it’s a stop on a local walking tour. Flocks of tourists march in, look down the hole, turn around and leave. Weird? A little. Amusing to watch? Yes.
But I’ve dwelt on the decor too much. The real star of this show is the oysters. We ordered the variety pack (my term, not theirs): six kinds, two of each, all plucked from the waters off Washington and Oregon. (Eat local, indeed.) A splash of lemon is my preferred accompaniment, but the plate also offers horseradish and cocktail sauce. Fresh, briny, slurp-a-licious. Rather than chowder, this time we went for the fried calamari. Well seasoned/herbed and fried to a perfectly crispy bite, these were among the best for my taste. Everything accompanied by piping-hot sourdough bread with a pillowy interior, crunchy exterior. I think we all know how we feel about that. A couple of glasses of crisp Columbia Valley Sauvignon Blanc to round it all out, and we were ready for our walk home.
One of many versions of a perfect Saturday afternoon.
Lolo on Alberta
May 14, 2011
Lolo on Alberta
Hey, Lolo. I know, last night might have been unfair. It was what it was, though, and I hope we can work through it.
We realize that three weeks ago we were in Madrid, devouring delicious tapas and raciones, putting you at a disadvantage. Despite J’s craving for a burger last night, I felt like putting on heels and going somewhere lovely. And the last time we shared a meal together, you didn’t disappoint. But as when former classmates gather for a reunion, there’s bound to be some surprises, good and bad. And the distance between us has not been kind to you.
Not to be shallow, but let’s start with appearances. The good: Your nicely spaced dining room with heavy, white chairs, warmly patterned banquettes and gigantic chalkboards announcing wine and food specials are welcoming. We can’t figure out why you’re rarely more than half full. And, the not so good: Why did you make us stand at the doorway for what seemed like a long time before anyone greeted us? That and the lull between courses made us think you didn’t care. The ugly: Did you know your tabletops are sort of sticky? They look clean, but there’s some kind of residue that is, well, unappetizing.
Now, on to food. Not having had our Madrid-traditional large lunch, we were pretty hungry. I felt like a combo of small plates, and J spotted the burger, so that’s what we did. By far the winners of the whole evening were the two salads. The baby beet salad with gorgonzola and candied almonds, hazelnuts and walnuts was a divine crunchfest, and that shredded romaine salad with manchego cheese and a creamy, garlicky dressing was one I’d order again. Next up was the calamari, which was quite tasty with good texture. Nice. And the smoked paprika aioli was a nice touch, though the whole thing could have used a little acid. Lemon wedge, maybe. Then came the much-anticipated ham and cheese croquettes. Yours were golf-ball sized, a little large for my taste, and I’ll be honest: I’m not a fan of the potato-y texture in the center. Did you put potato in your bechamel? Tell the truth. And finally, the burger. I hate to be negative, but we were disappointed. Even the topping of blue cheese and romesco couldn’t pep up that underseasoned meat. It’s only saving grace were the gorgeous, crisp, thick, nicely seasoned homemade chips.
Oh, Lolo. Maybe our expectations were too high, and perhaps we had unfair comparisons lurking in the back of our minds. With such a great location and space, though, we want to work it out. You’ll need to work a little harder if you want to win us back.
Easter Sunday in Madrid
April 24, 2011
Pate and gazpacho at La Finca de Susana.
In stark contrast to Saturday, today (Sunday) was near-perfect: Yesterday dawned cold, rainy and dreary; this morning was crisp and sunny. Yesterday’s walk along the Paseo de Prado began amid lush greenery but veered into the harsh concrete of Nuevos Ministerios; today’s expedition through the Parque del Buen Retiro was idyllic start to finish. Yesterday’s afternoon meal was a hastily chosen, overpriced, mostly bland filler on the Plaza Mayor; today’s main meal was sophisticated, delicious and affordable.
After our now-habitual breakfast buffet, we set out to erase yesterday’s shortcomings. Our walk led us to Madrid’s well-manicured version of Central Park where we spent several hours amid the maze of rose bushes and trellises of the Rosaleda (rose garden), the peacock party in the Jardines de D. Cecilio Rodriguez, the park’s central lake thronged by families and brimming with rowboats, and surrounding neighborhoods. Afterward, we ambled west in search of a friend-recommended restaurant: La Finca de Susanna near the Sevilla metro stop. La Finca had a line forming at 2 p.m., so we added our name to the hour-long wait list and headed around the corner to a cafe with a pastry-laden front window.
Hontanares has a coffee-shop vibe but a taberna menu. We sat at the counter, ordered wine and olives from the genial tabernero and recounted our walk. We were tempted by toasted bocadillos, meat- and cheese-filled pastries and more tapas, but did our best to avoid filling up before our scheduled meal.
At 3, we returned to the bright yellow awnings that mark the exterior of La Finca de Susanna. The interior is a study in bustling efficiency. Putty-colored walls, oversized black-and-gold barrel chandeliers and wall of wine are markedly contemporary, while rustic wood floors, crisp linens and palm-flanked windows give the space its namesake country-house feel.
The menu’s hearty Mediterranean and Spanish dishes make ordering a challenge. We started with a refreshing gazpacho laced with minced onions, red bell peppers and crunchy croutons; and a creamy chicken-liver pate enhanced by fruity olive oil. Hot fresh-baked bread did sopping duty as we awaited our entrees. J’s succulent braised pork ribs arrived accompanied by perfectly cooked couscous. My lamb shoulder, falling off the bone and bathed in a earthy pan juices, was complemented by sweet caramelized baby onions. We finished our two rather large plates, but dessert was out of the question — though a rich-looking wedge of chocolate torte sent to neighboring tables flirted with us briefly. Next time.
A beautiful day capped by a satisfying meal — a perfect Easter Sunday. We dedicate today’s meal to Julia y Pedro, the patron saints of the weekend “linner.” Mwah.
Northwest-Andean Mixto at del Inti
April 16, 2011
Pork belly and braised cabbage.
You might be thinking, “Really. Out to dinner two nights in a row?” Believe me, it’s not the norm. But after having moved to the neighborhood, J and I feel a responsibility to contribute to Alberta Street’s success. And if that means eating out two nights in a row, so be it. It had been a few months since we visited del Inti, our neighborhood Peruvian bistro, and we could not stand the guilt if, god forbid, it closed its doors.
Not that it needs our humble contribution. By the looks of the steady clientele, this spot is a local favorite. Del Inti’s welcoming patio with its piped-out Latin tunes and roaring fire pit mark the spot on Alberta and 23rd. Inside, the open space contains a bustling exposed kitchen, a lively dine-in bar, and a comfortably spaced dining area. Colorful artwork, globe lighting, cork flooring and a garage-type door that opens from the bar onto the patio complete the sleek neighborhood vibe.
A half-dozen colorful ceviches open the menu, and choosing presents a challenge. We selected the ceviche mixto with cubed mahi, whole shrimp, thin-sliced octopus, red onion and a fiery rocoto leche de tigre sauce, all capped by a jaunty dime-size slice of habañero. Sweet potato provided textural contrast and cooled the palate.
From the small plates, we chose the empanada, a flaky, deep-fried turnover stuffed with beef, potato, raisins and olives served atop a mild, nutty ocopa sauce. Next, the “chancho,” a pork belly confit, crisped top and bottom, served atop braised purple cabbage and finished with crunchy green apple chimichurri. The cabbage and apple provided sweet-tart crunch to contrast the salty pork, which disappeared on the tongue. Beautiful.
For entrees, J’s soy-glazed hangar steak cooked to a tender, pink medium rare, complemented by portobello mushrooms, fried potatoes and rice. For me, a pan-roasted corvina with manila clams, pork sausage, tapenade alongside buttery carrot “pasta” cut into pappardelle-like ribbons, cooked to al dente. All delicious.
Apple crisp with carrot-lemon ice cream (yep, I said carrot and lemon) rounded out our Saturday night meal, and we walked home, satiated and so grateful to be living in this neighborhood.
Del Inti, you continue to surprise us with your flavors and unexpected contrasts. Nos gusta mucho y hasta pronto.
-
- Pork belly and braised cabbage.
-
- Ceviche mixto with a habanero hat.
-
- Empanada, perfect with a squeeze of lime.
50 Plates in the Pearl
April 15, 2011
Pan roasted halibut, fiddlehead ferns, black trumpet mushrooms.
A dank spring Friday in Portland. The rain-flogged daffodils cower. It’s the kind of evening that begs for a cocktail and comfort food to properly usher in the weekend.
Big bro James suggested dinner at 50 Plates in the Pearl after having met one of the owners through work. The hunt for a parking space frayed nerves a bit, but it was nothing a vodka martini couldn’t smooth over.
The vibe of this spacious corner place combines clubby (sleek wood-paneling, high bar tables and textured white quartz wall tiles) with old-school diner (comfy booths and banquettes, smooth-top white dining tables). The menu features a cross-section of comforting American traditions. Our first bite was a petite California date stuffed with Vermont cheddar, wrapped in bacon. Sweet, salty, not too crisp — we could have eaten a bucketful. Next was a half dozen oysters spiked with beer, a drop of hot sauce, lime and cilantro. Hola, mis pequeños amigos.
After little bites, we moved on to small plates. The four of us shared two chopped Cobb-esque salads from the specials list: addictive with bay shrimp, avocado, cherry tomatoes, egg, croutons and a crunchy mix of lettuces tossed with buttermilk blue cheese, lemon anchovy dressing. Zandra opted for the Knuckle Sandwich, a buttery mini lobster roll. She reported it as tasty, her only gripe being that the bread overwhelmed the lobster. James ordered, and we all dipped into, a steaming bowl of pan-roasted mussels in a verdant broth of IPA, green tomatoes and chile paste.
For entrees, James, Zandra and I were unable resist the much-hyped pan-roasted halibut atop fiddlehead ferns, black trumpet mushrooms and an herb butter sauce. The rich flavors and textures bolstered the raves from our server, and we were converts. And when she declared that 50 Plates is known for its burger … well, you can guess what J ordered. A perfectly juicy Cascade Natural patty dressed up with Amish gorgonzola and thick cut bacon. “Best burger I’ve had in Portland so far,” he said. High praise, indeed. On the side, perfectly crisp hand-cut frites (twice fried in beef fat, no less) from the snacks menu. We polished off one serving and ordered another. God bless America.
We briefly considered splitting another burger for dessert, but level heads prevailed. James and Zandra went for the recommended key lime tart, a smooth-textured beauty topped with plump fresh berries and raspberry sauce. J and I ordered the cheese board — a trio of teleme, ale washed aged goat and that haunting Amish gorgonzola, complemented nicely with a drizzle of unfiltered local honey, fruit mince and crackers.
50 Plates: You transformed a gray, drizzly day into a mini road trip across America. Top down, wind in our hair, refreshed. We will see you again soon.
-
- Lobster roll
-
- Fries, round one.
-
- A trio of delectable cheeses.
-
- The remains.
-
- Pan roasted halibut, fiddlehead ferns, black trumpet mushrooms.
Burger Fix at The Mash Tun
April 10, 2011
Mushroom Swiss burger and tomato, bleu cheese soup. Damn. Good.
I’m feeling sentimental.
It’s Sunday night, and J and I are in different cities. With our schedules you’d think we’d be used to separation. But we are seldom apart on weekends. So I am thinking about weekends past, and one in particular: last weekend and our Saturday-night burger fest at The Mash Tun.
Conveniently (and temptingly) located two blocks from our house, The Mash Tun is an Alberta Street brew pub with free pool, darts, a full bar and house-brewed suds. It’s the first restaurant we went to when we moved to the neighborhood, and is usually the first place we think of on nights that we’ve made the effort to get dressed, but can’t muster any more energy than that.
Two giant brew kettles mark the entry on NE 22nd Ave and Alberta. Inside, the feel is casual and convivial with wood paneling, a central pool table and a jukebox that spins everything from 80s pop hits to downtempo jams. TVs hang in three corners for those with an eye on the game, and a pooch-friendly patio beckons in good weather. Most tables are filled with friends out for a casual night of conversation, pool, board games or tasty food.
The menu lists a range of pub favorites — fried apps, sandwiches, mini-pizzas, salads and the like. In an attempt to mask this as anything but an indulgence, J and I typically start with the big, beautiful beet salad. The greens are fresh, the beets plentiful, a little goat cheese adds tang and hazelnuts crunch it up. After that, it’s on to the entrees, and we’ve tried a few: the bratwurst is one tasty, tangy dog with sauerkraut; the BLATO (bacon, lettuce, avocado, tomato, onion on sourdough) is a good bet, always. But, truth be told, we’re here for the burgers. Big beefy patties are juicy and flavorful enough to laugh in the face of the tabletop condiments — I go without. My top choice is mushroom Swiss. J switches it up, but last weekend, it was the bleu burger with bacon. (Specify your burger temperature when you order or you’ll get medium.) Fry fanatics, listen up: the frenchies here are hit and miss, and it breaks my heart. But too often they are tepid and mushy. I now avoid them in favor of crunchy tots. A handful of house-brewed beers on tap wet the whistle, but there’s a full bar if your whistle cries out for a cocktail.
Sweetie, I miss you. I miss The Mash Tun. Here is to many more almost-lazy Saturday nights in our neighborhood haunt.
Chile Verde Chronicles 