50Plates

• Restaurant website
• Location: Pearl District
• Price to dinnerize two people: About $75 with tip

First thing I thought when I opened the 50Plates menu: “Whoa! These guys have figured out how to charge $10.50 for a bowl of chili.” Second thought: “It better be bloody good chili.”

I didn’t taste it, so I can’t say. I can say that the other food’s pretty good and the prices aren’t. And that this is a restaurant that needs to make up its mind: Is it a kitschy Americana diner, a trendy Pearl District eatery with a twist (i.e., the tapas are American), a down-home Southern kitchen, or….?

The concrete, stainless steel and chunky marble tile (Ann Sacks, unless I miss my guess) fit right into the Pearl District ethos, as do the cheap cafe tables set on the loading dock for those of us who want to eat outside. The waitstaff is attentive, service is fast and there’s an inventive (and expensive) drinks and wine menu.

The music is a little too retro for my tastes, mostly early 70s popcharts stuff. The menu talks about the concept of surveying great American foods, but unless you read 50Plate’s lengthy online rationales about why particular diner foods made it onto the menu, it’s hard to find the rhyme or reason to it. 50Plates just seems a bit too self-conscious to really be fun.

Still, Robyn and I gave it a shot tonight. I ordered a hot sandwich that closely resembled a Miami Cubano. Robyn got the BBQ brisket, $19.50.

The brisket arrived with mashed sweet potatoes, drowning in a molasses BBQ sauce. Both were pretty tasty, although the brisket had a bit more fat than strictly necessary.

$10 or so didn’t buy a huge sandwich, nor was it as pressed flat as the Miami version, but it was good. Despite the “concept,” I wouldn’t call it diner food, especially since it came a la carte–no potato salad, no tossed salad, no bag of chips, nuthin’ but a dill pickle. It looked kinda lonely, there on a big white plate. I added the “chopped salad,” at $6.50, and it was very good.

We ordered dessert to celebrate Robyn’s anniversary: Rhubarb crisp and Key Lime pie. Both were good. The Archies played “Sugar, Sugar” in the background, and a couple got up and danced while we toyed with our sweets. The after-dinner decafs came with a tiny pitcher of cream, shaped like a cow. Robyn and I both drink our coffees white, so the waitress eventually brought out the BIG cow of cream. That was more like it.

You know, I once ordered a room service hamburger at the Marriott Marquis in Manhattan, and nearly fainted when I got the $35 check. Fortunately, I’m now made of sterner stuff, so I didn’t turn a hair when the check arrived. But I couldn’t help thinking that a real diner would have served a similar meal for half the price and a quarter of the pretense.

Chennai Masala

• Restaurant website
• Area: Hillsboro/tech corridor (across from the “Streets of Tanasborne” shopping center)
• Price to stuff two people for dinner, with leftovers: About $30

Many glasslanders feel that the best Indian restaurants are out in Hillsboro, close to Intel and the tech corridor which employs a substantial number of subcontinentals. That’s where Chennai Masala, i.e., “a taste of Chennai,” lives, and so far it’s probably the best Indian restaurant I’ve tried in this area.

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Bay Leaf (Chinese vegetarian)

• Restaurant website
• Location: Hawthorne district (roughly)
• Price for dinner for two: About $28

Here’s the thing about vegetarian restaurants: They’re either exquisite, or they forcibly remind us why grass clippings belong in lawn mowers.

Bay Leaf edges a wee bit closer to the latter than the former, and that’s a shame, because it’s also one of the prettiest Chinese restaurants I’ve encountered in a long time. The surroundings are tasteful and immaculate, the people are friendly, the teas are diverse and tasty (although Typhoon beats them on variety) and the food is wonderfully presented.

But Bay Leaf’s offerings were a feast for the eyes, not the stomach: Most dishes were far too bland. Robyn and I started with an order of lettuce wraps, one of my favorite can’t-go-wrongs. It looked lovely, but pretty much tasted like stewed celery with a little soy sauce.

We chose vegetarian mu shu and a mushroom dish called Satay Lion’s Mane for our entrees, with steamed brown rice. The rice was nutty and fresh, possibly just a tad undercooked but certainly eatable. Alas, the vegetarian mu shu repeated the mistake of the lettuce wraps; it was nicely presented but bland as all get-out, with the only real taste notes coming from the plum sauce.

The Satay Lion’s Mane wasn’t as bland, but that wasn’t saying much. The lion’s mane mushrooms were limp and slightly off, with a slight alkali tang that didn’t pair well with the over-soyed satay.

Robyn had a bit of a cold and ordered Chrysanthemum Flower tea for its medicinal properties. I ordered plum green tea, which was delicious and is supposed to stimulate the appetite. I finished the pot but left most of the meal; even though the portions were on the skimpy side we didn’t finish what we had.

We left in search of something a bit more substantial than usual for dessert (and we found it, but that’s another story…).

Bete-Lukas (Ethiopian)

• Restaurant website
• Location: SE Portland (Division & 50th)
• Price to stuff two people at dinner: $36

The guy behind me on Division St. was honking and carrying on so, you’d have thought I’d sideswiped his kitten but I swear I didn’t do anything. Then I stopped at the light and he got out of his car, ran up and poked his head in my window. “Your left taillight is out, ma’am. I thought you’d want to know.”

Only in Portland, I mused, as I trudged up the stairs to meet Robyn at Bete-Lukas. Shortly after I forgot all about it, because when you’re at Bete-Lukas, you don’t want to waste time on inconsequentials like nuclear war or a nice fellow driver: You just wanna eat.

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Le Bouchon

• Restaurant website
• Location: Pearl district
• Cost for two for dinner: $80 with tip, beverage, dessert

Robyn and I seem to have this magical ability to empty restaurants, or at least we frequently wind up being the only patrons in the whole place, and our last adventure was no exception: Le Bouchon, a tiny French restaurant across the street from Lux Lighting in the Pearl.

Now, continentally speaking, it was 7pm so we were a bit early, but not THAT early, not for Portland. “Lately we’re crowded for lunch,” shrugged the hostess, “but at dinner…this.”

We promised to make loud, crowd-like noises and she seated us at a tiny table for two next to the window. A board held the day’s specials in addition to the regular menu, but I didn’t need to glance at either to order; I’d seen what I wanted on a sign outside. “I’ll have the cassoulet.”

Robyn chose comfort food, French-style: Duck confit on a bed of gruyere and sliced potatoes. Think upscale hash. The food would be filling and pricey enough–that was a $21.95 cassoulet I’d be chewing–that we didn’t bother to accompany it with salads or veggies or whatnot.

For those who haven’t gone to heaven on their tastebuds yet, cassoulet is a sort of navy bean soup on steroids. Rich, thick, savory and tangy, it can have, variously, chunks of game, sausage, mushrooms, etc., but it’s always finished with a confit of duck or goose.

I made my first cassoulet during my Julia Child phase, as a teenager. At 22, I had a superb version at one of the best continental restaurants in the US, Erna’s Elderberry House–Erna used to celebrate fall harvest with a “peasant night” in the wine cellar, complete with incredible cassoulet and the new vintages. I continued the love affair years later in France, where great cassoulet variations were a seasonal staple in just about every small village bistro.

Outside of Erna’s, a couple of places in New York that require a credit check to get in, and Chez Panisse down in the Bay area, however, I haven’t found really good cassoulet in the US. You can luck into a home-made version, but most restaurant chefs seem unwilling to spend three or four days making all the component parts, letting them age awhile longer, and then combine everything and spend another couple of days simmering the rich result.

So I’m always on the lookout for cassoulet, but I don’t expect much. Probably a good thing here: The cassoulet at Le Bouchon was rich and tasty but more akin to a fabulous bean soup. A good cassoulet will send me to the moon and back with every spoonful; I stayed firmly in my seat at Le Bouchon.

I still enjoyed it, though perhaps not 22 bucks’ worth. Robyn’s duck confit was equally tasty. We finished with a creme brulee that, like the cassoulet, was tasty but not transcendental.

In the end, it was a good, serviceable meal. Only one thing really disappointed: The bread. Our hostess brought out a basket of baguette slices that tasted more brioche than baguette.

(begin rant)
What the heck is it about Portland breads? Given Portland’s terrific emphasis on quality food, you’d think the bread would be superb, but I’ve yet to find bread that’s as consistently good as those I can find on any street corner in New York, Boston or Washington DC.
(end rant)

The making of French bread is an art in itself, but its ingredients list is surprisingly simple, without much in the way of fat or dairy. That’s what gives French baguettes their signature airiness and crackly crust. Le Bouchon’s baguette was tender, dense and almost crustless, full of the wrong kind of flavor. It was clearly made with SOME kind of dairy product, a mistake that grocery stores often make but one I don’t expect from a French restaurant.

It absolutely didn’t belong in my cassoulet, anyway.

So…Le Bouchon is a nice little place and given the prices I can see why it’s more of a smash at lunch in the current economic climate. I wouldn’t mind trying their onion soup when I find myself there at noon. But please, fix the bread first.

Grandma Leeth’s

• Restaurant website
• Location: SW Portland almost to Beaverton, just off HW26
• Price to dine two people: About $40

Say there’s this BIG landslide, and the daycare center crashes into the organic restaurant, picks up speed and piles into IKEA. I think they’d call the result “Grandma Leeth’s.”

Robyn and I had a quiet dinner there the other night. It was quiet because, aside from the hostess and our waitress, we were the only signs of life in the place.

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Pho Thanh (Vietnamese)

• Restaurant directions (can’t find a website)
• Location: Vancouver, WA
• Price to lunch two (with plenty of leftovers): $20

There’s a little Vietnamese place across from the Arlington County Courthouse, near Washington DC, which serves the hands-down best eggrolls on the planet. A Pho restaurant on the outskirts of Alphabet City in Manhattan makes noodle soups to die for at embarrassingly low prices. And a Vietnamese beef-with-baguette stew served on the Rue Verneuil in Paris still has me dreaming, years later.

Pho Thanh in Vancouver isn’t quite of that caliber, but it’s pretty daggone good. It’s also a bit of a surprise; Mom and I stopped there for lunch after visiting Dad, who’s still laid up in the rehab center with all his broken bones and physical therapy stuff. “I didn’t even know this was here,” said my mother, “We’ll have to come back.”

Yup.

This is a strip-mall place that looks a bit seedy, but inside is bright, airy and clean. The staff is exceedingly friendly and anxious to explain Vietnamese cuisine–three different smiling employees stopped to instruct us in which sauces, leaves and sprouts should go in the soup. The menu choices range from “beginner” to “specialty” stuff that includes what I call American Iffies, i.e., tripe, soft-boiled quail eggs and similar stuff that American tummies can find queasy-making.

We split an order of my favorite, salad rolls packed with crab and raw vegetables. They were on the large-ish side, nothing fancy at all, but there really doesn’t have to be when the ingredients are fresh, and these were. “This is all I need for the whole meal,” Mom said, “Thank heavens I got the small bowl of soup.”

I grinned but didn’t say anything and, sure enough, Mom’s basin of chicken soup was big enough for a family of four. She looked at it in dismay; the waiter assured her that they had BIG containers for leftovers. It was quite good, filled with solid pieces of chicken and tiny rice noodles with the requisite plate of mix-in sauces, herbs and crispy bean sprouts.

I prefer kitchen sink-style phos, and the one I ordered complied, with a well-flavored broth and chunks of surimi, fish, pork, tripe, quail eggs, beef, chicken and probably a dozen other things I’m leaving out. It also came with my favorite big, fat rice noodles, beautifully translucent and looking like tentacles in the soup.

It was very nicely prepared and, if it didn’t exactly transport me to raving ecstasy, was quite good. I managed about a third before giving up and asking for a doggie bag. We reheated the rest for dinner and it was almost as good the second time around.

We didn’t try the beef dishes, the vermicelli stuff, the eggrolls or any of dozens of other tasty-looking treats. Sigh. I guess we’ll just have to go back again. 

San Francisco Tienda Mexicana

• No website (or real reviews)
  Address: 8750 SW Citizens Drive #A (behind the Arby’s)
  Phone: 503-582-1690
• Location: Wilsonville, OR
• Price to stuff two people for lunch: $12

OK, that’s the second time I’ve been fooled in Wilsonville. Contrary to my (admittedly snooty) attitude regarding suburban dining, i.e., a useless whitebread collection of fastfood chainglop restaurants you shouldn’t park a car next to, let alone eat in, Wilsonville hides some real dining treasures.

This time Sara and I headed out to lunch and someone recommended San Francisco Tienda. “It’s surprisingly authentic, so long as you’re not put off by the fact that it’s really a butcher shop.”

I was immediately skeptical: The last time I heard the word “authentic” paired with “Mexican restaurant,” I experienced a gen-oo-wine-ly “authentic” Mexican place in Boston. Externally, it met the criteria: Hole in the wall (check), huge line waiting to get in (check), nice smells from the kitchen (check), reasonable prices (check). But…ketchup instead of salsa, Boston baked beans in the tacos. Yeah. Authentic. Right.

But this place in Wilsonville is hitting authentic–and delicious–on all cylinders.

It ain’t fancy, but the owners definitely know how to cook. It’s actually an Hispanic grocery store (the “tienda” part), with a full butcher shop in the back. The restaurant is an afterthought, a few small tables beneath a vast canopy of celebrity piñatas, off to the right behind a home-made plywood partition. You walk up to the meat counter, peruse the menu signboard, place your order, add a nice glass of tamarindo.

Our food took maybe 10 minutes to arrive, hot, home-made and fresh. I had a huarache, $4.95, sole-shaped layers of fried masa and tortilla (a huarache is an open-toed sandal), topped with plenty of greens and tomatoes, guacamole, delicious marinated steak, tangy traditional Mexican cheese and nicely spicy choice of salsas. I (barely) refrained from licking the plate.

Sara got adventurous with corn tacos made with chicken and ceviche, which she said were equally delicious. It was relaxed, easygoing and tasty. I will definitely be back. I might check out the butcher shop, too and, by the way, they cater.

Habibi Cafe (Lebanese)

• Restaurant website
• Location: Downtown/Pioneer Place area
• Price to lunch two: About $23

Habibi means “dear one” in Arabic, or words to that effect, and while I’m not gonna swoon over the food at the PDX restaurant known as Habibi (I’ll reserve that for Nicholas until something better comes along), I could grow pretty fond of it.

Habibi’s tucked into one of those downtown blocks that are just chock full of interesting little shops and restaurants near the Pioneer Place cinema. It’s tiny, with small tables crowded into the main floor and a few additional tables in the loft above. The walls (above) are crowded with bottles, and the whole thing looks more Portland Victorian than Middle Eastern. The kitchen’s pretty much on view to the downstairs tables, which was nice.

My friend Barbara and I met there for chow and chat last Saturday; it was crowded when I arrived and got more crowded as we stayed. The staff was gracious and friendly throughout, even though worked off their feet, which was one reason I liked it.

Barbara ordered the kebabs; I got the lamb shawarma. Both came with salads and I got a kick out of the brass leaf platter that housed my meal. (above) Barbara liked hers; mine was mostly pretty good except a few pieces of lamb were sadly overcooked and chewy.

Strangely, that didn’t bother me; I liked the cozy feel of this place on a cold winter day. I wouldn’t go there if the food were my primary object but for the ambiance? Sure.

Dar Essalam (Moroccan)

• Restaurant website
  
• Location: Wilsonville, OR
• Price to fill up two people for dinner: About $40

There’s a hidden jewel in Wilsonville (of all places): One of the tastier Middle Eastern restaurants I’ve encountered on the west coast. I’d driven by Dar Essalam a couple of times on my way to Fry’s Electronics, and filed it under “new Moroccan restaurant” for future reference.

When I say “hidden” jewel, I mean it. Coworker Sara and I decided to try it tonight, and it proved so hard to find in Google Maps that we nearly didn’t go (google “Moroccan restaurant in Wilsonville” and see what you come up with). I’m glad we did, because it was delightful.

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