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.
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.
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- Sweet, salty, savory Vietnamese fish-sauce wings.
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- Pork loin skewers, peanut dipping sauce and toasted white bread.
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- 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.
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- Chicken liver pate and asparagus ribbons.
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- Beef tongue that melts in the mouth.
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- Brothy, soppable squid.
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- Sauteed spring greens and egg.
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- Poached egg spilling over roasted tesa.
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- 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.
Toledo’s sloping lunch
April 27, 2011
Tilted soup and sliding spaghetti.
Everything in Toledo is “up the hill,” the guidebook said, and that’s where we went: out of the Moorish-inspired train depot, across the winding Tajo river and up the hill toward the center of old Toledo and the Plaza Zocodover. Station to square involved a 20-minute hike up steep paths and stairways, and as we neared the summit we found there was an escalator cut into the slope that would have done most of the trudgery for us, but no matter. Lunch usually tastes better with a sprinkle of sweat.
Old Toledo is like a movie set. The city is only 60 miles from Madrid (30 minutes by bullet train), but it felt like we had been transported back in time. Narrow streets and ancient buildings form a shadowy cobblestone maze navigated by grandmothers carting home the day’s groceries. Schoolkid chatter echoes across the plaza. But the Hollywood reverie was soon interrupted by the tourist masses, most of whom were headed to the same place: the Catedral de Toledo.
Begun in 1227 and built during a 250-year span, the cathedral is awe-inspiring — dim and cool, cavernous and soaring, with a marble tomb or gated chapel at every turn. The echoing interior drips with intricate carving and gilded altarwork; the sacristy houses a museum’s trove of paintings by El Greco, Goya, Velazquez and Carvaggio. Eyes heavenward and mouthes agape, we explored. Stunning.
After a couple of hours, the heady combination of hills and holiness got our appetites up, so out we went in search of sustenance. We landed at Restaurant Alcazar, whose terrace perches delicately on an incline. J started with gazpacho, which slanted in the bowl; I had to slurp my espeguettis before they slid off the plate. Frankly, the starters were the best part of the meal, but the fried fish and sauteed pork loin entrees were satisfying enough after an eventful morning, especially accompanied by a refreshing Spanish Rueda.
After lunch, we spent another hour hiking the slopes of Toledo before we made our way down the hill and back to the train station. The trek was definitely worth the effort if only for a few hours and a decidedly tilted meal.
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- Tilted soup and sliding spaghetti.
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- Toledo’s storied cathedral.
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- The hike to the center of town.
Chile Verde Chronicles 