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.
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- Lobster roll
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- Fries, round one.
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- A trio of delectable cheeses.
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- The remains.
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- 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.
A Birthday Beast
March 26, 2011
Steak tartare + quail egg on toast = two bites of heaven.
Honestly, birthdays are getting a little old. (Pun sort of intended. Not really. They are getting really old.) I’ll spare you the self-indulgent details. But if mark them I must, what better way than by spending a Saturday evening with some of my favorite people at one of he most lauded restaurants in Portland? The company did not disappoint, nor did our meal at Beast.
James, Zandra, Margaret, J and I shared a communal table with a group of four that seemed content to keep to themselves, which was fine by me. Diners at the other, larger table in the room made acquaintances early, but in the end appeared to interact mostly with those they came with. (I mention this only as a point of solace for anyone uneasy about communal seating, as I, ever the introvert, tend to be.) The setting for dinner is snug, dusky, casual yet refined. The room features whimsical graffiti, a working kitchen that hums with quiet precision and a sizable plating island that seats two, maybe three, lucky diners. A seating, of which there are two nightly Wednesday-Saturday, accommodates perhaps 30. Two brunch seatings on Sunday round out the week.
We opted for the wine pairings, and once all parties had arrived, the feasting began. We commenced with a rich, inky French onion soup, its crouton oozing with Gruyere, paired with a bubbly Brut rose. Next was a colorful palette of charcuterie whose standouts included a silky chicken liver mousse on a crisp leaf lard cracker; toast topped with steak tartare and a delicate quail egg; and a tiny square of sauternes gelee perched on a rich, chilled fois gras bon-bon — a creamy mouthful that might have stood in for dessert. The main course brought a fork-tender braised duck accented by pickled sour cherries and a syrupy duck demi-glace alongside crunchy pink spring radishes with their greens. After that, a refresher: a bright arugula salad slightly wilted under an aged-sherry, bacon, balsamic vinaigrette with shaved Reggiano and tempura-fried lemons. The only jarring moment of the meal came during the cheese course, which included a spunky goat’s milk cheese; a salty, tangy blue; and a wow-invoking German cow’s milk cheese redolent of barnyard. (If you haven’t guessed, the last one was the jarring bit — a conversation stopper and most definitely an acquired taste.) After all that, dessert: spicy, chilled hazelnut cake alongside Armagnac prune frozen mousse.
Beast strikes a balance between rich and bright, sweet and tart, crunch and cream, with generous dashes of whimsy and elegance for good measure. We feel fortunate to have this cozy spot in our neck of the woods, and look forward to many (40-something?) celebratory meals to come.
Friday-Night Tradition: Bandini
March 19, 2011
Sausage/green pepper and Canadian bacon/onion.
I don’t know when it started — in Chicago, probably — but somewhere along the line, we adopted the oh-so-original tradition of Friday night pizza. We have made it our quest, wherever we go, to find the best delivery joint: the crust must be thin, crisp, oven-browned; the salads must be big (nothing worse than paying $10 for a paltry tin of dying lettuce and dead shaved carrots).
The quest continues in Portland, but our current favorite is Bandini. I confess to being a skeptic when we first walked by the restaurant on MLK. The place looks cozy and inviting enough, but the menu seems scattershot: appetizers, pastas, salads, sandwiches, desserts and, of course, pizza. A real red-sauce, family-style, kid-in-booster-seats kind of place. But we took the leap and ordered delivery one Friday night last November, and it’s been our go-to Friday-night date ever since. Ordering can be tricky, especially if you are trying to communicate the concept of “easy cheese” or even “light cheese” to the sweet, non-native English-speaker on the phone — but who cares? The pizza arrives lickety-split, and the delivery guy is courteous and friendly.
Pizza crust is delicious, though it never quite achieves the crispness we crave. It has a pretzel quality: Definitely thin, slightly chewy, with a pretzel-style sheen. I love it. J wishes we could convey the desired well-done effect, and we’ll keep trying. (“When it’s finished, leave it in the oven for an extra 5 minutes.”)
Toppings are fresh and flavorful (we’re talking to you, sausage). Salads are plentiful. (Yeah, the Caesar dressing conspicuously lacks garlic and anchovies, but we won’t complain: The lettuce is fresh and there’s lots of it.)
Bandini: Thank you for being our Friday-night steady. We’ll call you. *Kiss.*
Wildwood Restaurant & Bar
March 12, 2011
We won’t deny it: We love going out to eat, and we don’t mind spending money on a nice dinner. We love cooking at home, too, but there is something about the anticipation of an evening out — whether it’s just the two of us, or with family and friends — that imparts a celebratory feeling. Tonight, we met James, Zandra, David and Karen at Wildwood in the Pearl District to celebrate David’s birthday, so the scene was set: delightful company, cool spring evening and a lovely high-end restaurant. David knows wine, we all love to eat and drink, not a picky person in the group. So, it was perfect, right? That we were disappointed came as a surprise.
The menu showcases local, seasonal ingredients, so in early March, we had a plethora of winter vegetables and hearty meats and flavors verging on Mediterranean. Appetizers were the night’s clear winners, in my opinion. Standouts in the starter arena included bright, fresh flavors of roasted parsnip and grapefruit salad with creme fraiche and a drizzle of aromatic truffle oil. And I’ll be honest: I would have kept the buttery pork belly and dungeness crab app to myself if I thought I could get away with it.
Among the six of us, we tried four entrees. Karen and Zandra both had the oven-roasted pork chop, a mammoth cut, nicely cooked, but topped with a preserved tomato sauce that seemed to overpower the dish. James and David ordered lamb which looked promising, but the meat was chewy. (Dare I say gamey? Yes, I dare.) My rib eye filet, the size of a small fist, was nicely browned on the surface, and a lovely medium pink inside, but the flavor was non-existent, and the meat … how could it possibly have been tough? J’s entree of crispy, flavorful duck confit with deliciously caramelized brussels sprouts and pancetta was the only redeeming plate.
First impressions are everything, especially when the competition is so strong. We might give Wildwood another chance, in another season. Maybe.
Alberta’s Sushi Hana
February 13, 2011
The wind howled on Saturday, and we had slogged through it for two hours in the name of exercise and exploring. So, after a shower and nap, we were so ready for something casual and satisfying. Our first choice was a burger at Mash Tun — always delicious and easy — but we thought we’d give Sushi Hana a look before making any snap decisions. A quick scan at the menu and the welcoming-enough sushi bar, we decided to give it a go.
The verdict: Eh. It was all right.
Nigiri had fresh flavors (we tried yellowtail, salmon and mackerel) and the egg rolls and gyoza were piping hot. Of the long list of elaborate rolls, we landed on the Flaming Dragon Roll with tempura shrimp inside and spicy tuna on top. The biggest setbacks for me were the toro sashimi (semi frozen and grainy) the vegetable tempura. J liked the tempura, I was not a fan. The batter was too thin to make an impact, but the flavor and texture of the veggies were fine. Choosing well is the key, and next time I’ll likely stick to rolls. May even venture into the udon section of the menu.
Overall, Sushi Hana was slightly disappointing, but not a disaster. Certainly nothing a late-night cocktail and a couple of tacos at Cruzroom didn’t fix.
First look: Aviary on Alberta
February 5, 2011
Sitting at the communal dining bar at Aviary.
Oh, pffft. Why did we worry? With restaurants like Aquavit, Jean Georges and Ducasse, on their resumes, clearly these people know what they’re doing. At 8pm, the dining room was at about 50 percent capacity, so we had no trouble sitting down. And the staff, though perhaps not completely comfortable yet, were more than welcoming and attentive. And the menu? Oh yeah.
Choosing was the biggest hurdle. Ten small plates were so tempting, we found it a challenge to get past that. In the end, we settled on kushi oysters on the half shell with only a skiff of tomato granite and horseradish to complement; crispy, bite sized ox tail croquettes; and tempura pumpkin with mild red curry and bright Thai basil. I was less sure about the pumpkin dish, imagining heavy flavors and textures. Of course, I was wrong, and sorry I doubted.
Entrees consisted of seared snapper with crispy skin over greens and bacon for J, and fork-tender, braised beef cheeks with a creamy celery-root puree and blood orange segments for sweet acidity for me.
Aviary: We know we just met you, but we can’t help it. We think we love you.
Chile Verde Chronicles 