Lardo
Portland, Oregon

Crispy pig ear salad at Lardo East SideCrispy pig ear salad at Lardo East Side

It takes thick skin to walk into either of Lardo’s Portland locations without somehow feeling that the name is a taunt directed at you rather than having been derived from the charcuterie offering of cured pork fat. Lardo is a porcine tribute, nay, shrine to the humble and versatile pig, whose varietal cuts are prominently featured throughout the menu. Each site has an obligatory simplified line diagram showing Miss Piggy’s five prime cuts in mural form, as well as a bulb-array sign reading, “PIG OUT” that looks as if it came straight off a Broadway marquee. Lardo is the labor of love of Chef Rick Gencarelli who literally covered the country gastronomically from shore to shore before settling in Portland in 2010 to open a piglet food cart in Portland’s Sunnyside pod. After word spread about his now-legendary pig-product sandwiches, Gencarelli opened a brick-and-mortar sty on Hawthorne (ironically directly across the street from the Cartopia food cart pod) in the summer of 2012, followed by a second more spacious location downtown on Washington Street in December.

Pork cuts, simplifiedPork cuts, simplified

The rapacious references go far beyond the onslaught of piggy imagery – the menu is rife with dishes where Babe, Porky and Napoleon manage to sneak their way onto the plate; bacon lurks salaciously in Lardo’s popular cold fried chicken sandwich, while the Double Burger gets porked by a hefty slab of pork belly. Think the sides manage to slink away without having to squeal like a pig? Nosiree, Bob! On the subtle side are the Lardo Fries crisped up in pork fat – on the other end of the scale are the Dirty Fries, taken to the next level with bits of pork scrap, chopped pepperoncini, fried herbs and a liberal application of parmesan cheese (and blissfully not labeled as Portland poutine). The copious serving of Dirty Fries are hardly a side order; likewise with the Crispy Pig’s Ear Salad, featuring pappardelle-sized strips of crunchy fried pork ear infiltrating a bed of radicchio, topped with the ubiquitous fried egg and a light drizzle of bacon vinaigrette, proving that you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, but you can make a hell of a salad.

The Korean pork sandwich at Lardo West SideThe Korean pork sandwich at Lardo West Side

The sandwiches are pork conveyances of delight – while not letter-perfect, the Cubano boasts authentic crusty Cuban bread stuffed with thick layers of Capocollo and oozing Provolone, oddly halved, stacked and skewered with a lanced dill pickle chip. Of exceptional note is the Korean Pork Shoulder sandwich, an artisan roll gorged with pork grilled to a light char resting on a thick smear of chili mayo and smothered in house-made kimchi and fresh cilantro – the flavors are astounding and intoxicating, rushing at you like a Russian boar in heat. To quell the damp Portland skies during the seasons when the sun is reclusive, the East Side location features a huge tent over a heated seating area (which also houses the Sugar Cube Sweets food cart, the perfect source for dessert and coffee after pigging out).

The newly-opened Lardo West SideThe newly-opened Lardo West Side

The danger associated with repeated visits to Lardo for the addictive fare is that there’s a strong possibility your loved ones will soon be remarking, “Hey boy – you look just like a hog”.

Lardo (West Side)
1205 SW Washington Street
Portland, Oregon 97205
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’19.23″N 122°41’0.62″W

Lardo (East Side)
1212 SE Hawthorne Boulevard
Portland, Oregon 97214
GPS Coordinates: 45°30’43.47″N 122°39’11.14″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to both Lardo locations in Portland, Oregon

 

Pine State Biscuits
Portland, Oregon

The simple, unimposing Pine State Biscuits in Portland ORThe simple, unimposing Pine State Biscuits in Portland OR

Tread lightly, for you are embarking down a craggy spiral on a journey from which the only return is through the cardiologist’s office. It is 6:59 AM and you are standing out in the damp, brisk air of a Portland morning, breathing into your hands to restore the circulation, a function that will cease after ingesting the artery-clogging behemoth that lies behind the weather-beaten wood and glass door. One of the young employees works the lock, and you can tell by the smile on her face that she is invincible, the rest of her life stretching out before her like the interstate – unless she falls prey to the come-hither of the home-style Frankenstein monster that goes by the seemingly harmless moniker of “The Reggie”. The incandescent lights dangling from ancient fixtures give an eerie glow to the single room in a tiny box, a nondescript structure that may have served as a barber shop in a previous life. There’s a counter hugging the wall and several tables that hint that as the morning progresses they will become communal. You have entered the belly of the beast with a goal to escape triumphant, celebrating your victory over The Reggie with another notch in your belt (and trust me, you’re going to need that extra notch) – you are at the counter at Portland’s Pine State Biscuits.

Time to make the biscuitsTime to make the biscuits

If you have some level of difficulty finding the words “biscuits” and “Portland” to be a match made in heaven, fret not; Pine State Biscuits is the brick-and-mortar child of Tar Heels Walt Alexander, Brian Snyder, and Kevin Atchley, transplants with white gravy flowing through their veins who took shelter indoors in 2008 after introducing Portlanders to the powdery flour cakes at the Portland Farmers Market. It is highly recommended to arrive early – seating is at a premium and the dining area fills up remarkably fast. The blackboard menu dangles from chains above the counter, a chest-high wall that offers a view of the staff whipping up batches of the day’s biscuits surrounded by massive sacks of Shepherd’s Grain flour like doughboys behind sandbags in the trenches of Bentonville. Like many Portland restaurants, the doors stay open while the morning’s supply starts to dwindle; once the biscuits are gone, so is your opportunity to conquer The Reggie.

The deadly delicious Reggie at Pine State BiscuitsThe deadly delicious Reggie at Pine State Biscuits

Pine State Biscuits offers a fleet of biscuit-based dishes, some with cryptic names like the McIsley and the Chatfield, others with formidable titles such as The Moneyball and the Double Down – of course, for the traditionalist there’s the tried and true biscuits and gravy. Deciphering the mind-numbing variety of options can be overwhelming, but your first visit should feature Pine State’s most popular selection, The Reggie. This colossal biscuit sandwich is Pine State’s most popular plate, an imposing biscuit structure that was reduced to rubble in Guy Fieri’s gaping maw on “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives”. The dish starts with one of the super-sized, flaky and sturdy buttermilk biscuits. The bottom half is blanketed with a spicy slab of fried chicken which is then covered with cheese and strips of crispy bacon before being smothered in white gravy and capped with the top half of the biscuit. This gastronomic Mount St. Helen spews forth floes of hot, spicy magma in a cataclysm of Southern-style ecstasy that demands the use of a knife and fork. If you feel like taking a walk on the wild side, there’s The Reggie Deluxe – the same cholesterolic Biscuit of the Apocalypse accentuated by a fried egg.

Pine State's menu seldom changesPine State's menu seldom changes

The Reggie is big on taste, reaching through your rib cage and kicking the crap out of your heart with a barrage of rich flavors of the South all whistling Dixie on your palate – the thick gravy adds moisture without making the biscuit soggy; the thin filet of fried chicken is light with a thin crust that would make a great standalone dish; the bacon adds flavor and texture while not going hog wild and stealing the chicken’s thunder. One has to wonder about the degree of experimentation that took place before settling on a recipe for the biscuits that makes them the star of the dish, but Pine State Biscuits got it right – like the South, the biscuits are gonna rise again.

Pine State Biscuits
3640 SE Belmont Street
Portland, OR 97214
GPS Coordinates:  45°30’58.87″N 122°37’34.66″W

 

Poutine
Canada

Chez Ashton's classic poutineChez Ashton's classic poutine

The United States purports to be a strategic partner and ally to our neighbor to the north, but if we hope to improve relations between the two countries, we’d better start producing a better homage to the de facto national dish of Canada – poutine.  Although the most basic poutine is widely referred to as classique, the sloppy dish (named from the Acadian slang loosely translated as “a mess”) is a relatively modern contrivance. Folklore credits Québec restaurant owner Fernand Lachance as having invented (or at least named) it in the late 1950s; in later years, the dish’s popularity spread across Canada, although Québec Province is still credited with producing the best poutine. Poutine is a relatively simple dish, a casual item better suited to being served in a cardboard, plastic or Styrofoam bowl than on fine china; this is a food of the people, street food extraordinaire, and although it has evolved later in its life to include a variety of toppings, you will always be able to get the classic dish wherever French fries are served.

No explanation necessary in Vieux-Montréal (Old Montreal)No explanation necessary in Vieux-Montréal (Old Montreal)

Classic poutine adheres to some very basic rules for authenticity, regardless of where it is served. The potatoes used are generally freshly hand or machine cut into thick fries, although some of the fast food chains will use frozen pre-cut fries. In addition to franchises with household names to Americans such as Burger King, A&W, McDonalds, and PFK (Poulet Frit à la Kentucky), the classique is available at homegrown chains like Montréal’s Lafleur and Québec’s Chez Ashton (where most Québécois on the street will direct you).

The cheese makes all the difference in the world (or at least in the north of the Western Hemisphere); by Canadian law, anyone caught dribbling Velveeta or Cheez-Whiz over the potatoes is staked out in front of a bear den and covered in maple syrup. Traditional poutine uses only fresh Cheddar cheese curds; the true test of authenticity is determined by the teeth. When properly manufactured, the cheese nuggets will squeak with each bite – while this can be off-putting to some tastes, it is what will prompt a true poutine aficionado to take that second bite. The curds are a critical ingredient; any substitution leaves you with cheese fries, unworthy to bear the poutine title (you might as well layer Kraft American slices on your Freedom Fries and call it a day while you dine alone on a park bench outside Disneyland).

Yes, even Burger King has poutineYes, even Burger King has poutine

The final component to the traditional classic poutine is the medium-thick, savory, brown sauce that coats the fries and curds. The sauce (referred to as sauce, chicken gravy, or just plain “gravy”) can vary in consistency and taste between different vendors. Although the sauce is brown, if differs drastically from the gravy Americans douse their mashed potatoes with or the familiar bottle of HP Sauce found on the bar in most British pubs. The gravy is chicken-based with some basic spices and onion, but the irony is that while only freshly made cheese curds are acceptable, the sauce is generally made from a dry, pre-packaged mix reconstituted with water. Although the thought of cloaking the dish with a powdered mix sounds unappetizing, the result is usually sturdy nectar that you’ll be sopping up with the last of the remaining French Fries.

Poutine Duleton with ground beef and onion (F) and Classique (R)Poutine Duleton with ground beef and onion (F) and Classique (R)

Poutine is winter fuel, drunk food that finds a sharp increase in popularity after last call in Montréal (at 3 AM). High in calories and carbohydrates, the mélange is a warming, filling treat on a cold day, an alcohol sponge, and a comfort food best enjoyed in moderation. If you find yourself a considerable distance from the casse-croûtes and potato shacks that dot the Québec countryside, the “eenie, meenie, minie, moe” method will get you to a superlative dish of poutine anywhere in the urban centers. Many restaurants offering the dish feature poutine in their name (with the “Least Imaginative” award going to Vieux-Montréal’s “Montréal Poutine”) but you’ll have to do some menu browsing to find some of the more evolved variations. The Mecca of poutine in Montréal is La Banquise, the first destination recommended by native Montréalers. Part of La Banquise’s popularity stems from the fact that it’s open 24-hours a day; the busiest time (when the line stretches out the door) is when the pubs empty out. In addition, the menu features close to 30 different versions of the dish including poutines that will comprise the same ingredients regardless of where you order them:

  • Italian poutine (substituting a meaty tomato sauce for the chicken gravy and occasionally topped with sliced Italian sausage)
  • Poutine Dulton (topped with ground beef and sautéed onions in addition to the traditional ingredients)
  • Galvaude (with chunks of turkey or chicken and green peas, often without the cheese curds)
  • Michigan poutine (accompanied by sliced hot dogs)

Each comes in two sizes, and unless you hang with Adam Richman, I highly recommend the smaller, Frisbee-sized portion.

Hachoir's "The" poutine with duck confit, Grosse-Île tomme and mushroomsHachoir's "The" poutine with duck confit, Grosse-Île tomme and mushrooms

Other restaurants in Montréal feature a single, unique, signature poutine dish that is can frequently be described as “upscale”; Montréal’s chef laureate Martin Picard is renowned for his legendary foie gras poutine which is served at his Au Pied de Cochon, and at around $25 this ain’t Joe le Plombier’s poutine. Restaurant Hachoir on restaurant-laden Rue Saint-Denis offers a dish simply known as “The” poutine – this generous bowl is stocked with fries buried beneath dark, rich gravy laden with duck confit, sautéed mushrooms, and Grosse-Île tomme (a cheese curd manufactured in the style of Grosse Isle, a tiny island north of Québec on the Saint-Laurence River). The tender pieces of duck fall apart on your tongue and complement the earthiness of the mushrooms and the hearty sauce, providing a contrast in texture to the squeaky curds. Lester’s Deli (a Montréal landmark since 1951) features a menu item that embodies the spirit of two famous local dishes – the smoked meat poutine. This dish crowns a poutine classique with a mound of chopped smoke meat that renders the rest of the dish invisible; in fact after consuming the proliferation of tender brisket you may not have room left for the underlying poutine.

Portland, Oregon's Potato Champion's poutine-to-goPortland, Oregon's Potato Champion's poutine-to-go

American attempts at poutine usually approximate upscale chili cheese fries; some of the nobler endeavors use fancy ingredients such as short ribs, pork belly, kimchi and a variety of other items that would leave a Québécois shaking his head. As much as these bistros and food writers tout these tributes as “ultimate” poutine, or describe the restaurants as places where you can “eat like a Canadian”, very few capture the essence of the dish. I have found several exceptions to this sad state of affairs, and undoubtedly there are others lurking around the U.S. (most likely in the northern states). In Southern California, the one place that is overlooked in local reviews of poutine destinations is Redondo Beach Cafe. The retro 50′s diner with its Postmodern NHL decor was founded by two Montréal expatriate siblings, Chris and Kosta Tsangaris, and in addition to both poutine classique and Italian poutine done right, they also feature a close approximation to a traditional smoked meat sandwich almost as good as you could expect to find in Montréal. Farther north, Potato Champion has been selling classic poutine from its food cart at the Cartopia pod located at Southeast 12th Avenue and Hawthorne Boulevard in Portland, Oregon. Like the other food carts that inhabit Cartopia, Potato Champion stays open until 3 A.M. (many of the other pods in Portland close with the business day), able to service the outpouring of nightlife driven out by a 2:30 A.M. last call. The cart only sells potato items, and although they only feature the poutine classique, it is done properly with freshly cut fries waiting patiently in a gigantic mound beside the fryer and topped with fresh cheddar curds. They also feature a vegan option, but if you’re that concerned with what you’re putting in your body, you probably shouldn’t be eating poutine; I don’t even want to know what vegan cheese curds taste like.

Gravy Train's traditional poutineGravy Train's traditional poutine

In March of 2012, Evan Goldberg and Tum Rotbard put the Gravy Train Poutinerie on wheels in Los Angeles County; although the menu is laden with Americanized poutines that might raise some eyebrows in Québec Province, the first item is their take on the poutine classique, “The Traditional”. The dish was reverse engineered after an early morning encounter with poutine in Montréal, but over time it has been tweaked it to their specifications. The cheese curds are shipped frequently from a dairy in Wisconsin that manufactures the white lumps of Cheddar in what operator Joe Nacion calls “Mozzarella-style”; rather than make the brown sauce from a mix, Gravy Train uses a bacon-based brown gravy. Russet Burbank potatoes from Idaho are cut, quickly parboiled and then flash-fried on demand. The resulting dish is a rich, salty mess that could easily rub elbows with Montréal’s best. Although the custom curds in my dish seemed to have a milder squeak, the superlative brown sauce more than made up for it. Gravy Train has also created a fried curd side dish that is fried tempura-style using their own recipe for the batter – even though the golden bites are scalding hot, the centers still have some teeth to them.

Redondo Beach Cafe's Danielle loves poutine and it showsRedondo Beach Cafe's Danielle loves poutine and it shows

Poutine is a blue-collar comfort food that runs in the same circles as mac and cheese; from fast food joints to gastropubs it is spreading like wildfire across North America, and although there is an eagerness of celebrity chefs to transform it into an unrecognizable dish featuring French fries, sometimes keeping something simple is the best option; after all, as good a singer as Josh Groban is, you wouldn’t want to see him singing for The Guess Who.

La Banquise
994 Rue Rachel Est
Montréal, Québec H2J 2J3
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’30.96″N 73°34’29.47″W

Pub Mc Carold
5400 Chemin de la Côte-des-Neiges
Montréal, Québec H3T 2A9
GPS Coordinates: 45°29’48.45″N 73°37’24.86″W

Restaurant Hachoir
4177 Saint-Denis
Montréal, Québec H2W 2M7
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’18.57″N 73°34’40.90″W

Lester’s Deli
1057, rue Bernard Ouest
Outremont, Québec H2V1V1
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’19.66″N 73°36’25.42″W

Redondo Beach Cafe
1511 South Pacific Coast Highway
Redondo Beach, CA 90277
GPS Coordinates: 33°49’14.39″N 118°23’7.74″W

Potato Champion
1207 Southeast Hawthorne Boulevard
Portland, OR 97214
GPS Coordinates: 45°30’44.62″N 122°39’12.46″W

Gravy Train Poutinerie
Los Angeles County, California

P’tit Soleil
1386 Westwood Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90024
GPS Coordinates:  34° 3’19.64″N 118°26’30.25″W

GALLERY: Images of poutine Val has sampled and where to get it in the U.S. and Canada

 

The Victory Bar
Portland, Oregon

Tin ceiling and paper shades give The Victory Bar a vintage lookTin ceiling and paper shades give The Victory Bar a vintage look

Crossing the threshold at Portland’s The Victory Bar gives one a sense that they have entered into a fictional world colored in sepia from the lamps filtering light through the paper lampshades that hang from the tin ceilings. Colors are faded and muted; the lighting is dim, and although the patrons carry on spirited conversations, they seem to be guarded from prying ears. Retro imagery abounds from some imaginary wartime existence, from the colorless burlap curtains with newsprint slogans such as “Long Live the Proper Republic of America” to the paper stencil candle covers on the table that boast silhouettes of fictional political figures – The Victory Bar is a speakeasy where The Brotherhood convenes to talk of revolution in The Party.

The Victory Bar, your late night drinking and dining spotThe Victory Bar, your late night drinking and dining spot

References to George Orwell’s 1984 appear to be intentional, from the imagery to the menu offering of the Sloppy George (featuring “secret spicy BBQ sauce”) and the obligatory Victory Gin (which I didn’t try but undoubtedly would be a favorite of Winston Smith). As dark and faded as the decor is, thankfully the food is a far cry better than the black bread and synthetic meat provided by The Ministry of Plenty. The Victory Bar misses the literary boat on the menu – with a variety of international items such as gruyere cheese spätzle (reduced to the newspeak “mac-n-cheese”), the Victory Ruben and an Americanized poutine, the offerings are too interesting to be Orwellian. The inclusion of Freedom Fries is a nice nod of the hat to the Inner Party that the U.S. Republican congressmen appeared to belong to in 2003, although sadly Robert W. Ney and Walter B. Jones were not fictional characters.

House-cured anchovy fillets hiding in a cloak of Dijon mustardHouse-cured anchovy fillets hiding in a cloak of Dijon mustard

Blending in with the other Proles that permeated the small dining room, I chose the house-cured anchovies imported from Spain to open. These fat, eel-like filets were draped unceremoniously over pyre-stacked fingers of focaccia and then smothered in a thick Dijon sauce that completely obscured the fish. Finished with sliced radishes and sprigs of cilantro, there was a proliferation of strong flavors, the least of which (unfortunately) was the anchovy. The slightly briny and acetic flavor peaked through occasionally and the fact that there was a little give to the flesh saved the dish, but the anchovies seemed to hide from view repeatedly much like the thought police.

The Victory Bar's renowned venison burgerThe Victory Bar's renowned venison burger

The main selection was never in doubt. According to the Ministry of Information (Portland Monthly), The Victory Bar’s venison burger was selected as one of the top 30 burgers in Portland, narrowly missing the top spot in the Non-Beef category. The thick slab of Bambi arrived hot with slightly pink innards, and I was impressed with the juiciness of the patty (whereas venison is a lean meat, it tends to be on the dry side unless prepared with a more “richly marbled” animal flesh or marinated). The meat was mild with less of a wild taste than most venison and the fried threads of leek sticking up out of the Cheddar like a balding Mohawk added a nice, crispy texture to each bite. The sauce was interesting in a familiar way, and although the menu touts it as Worcestershire aioli, my server bluntly stated that it was a blend of aioli and ketchup.

Dining in an atmosphere that gives the impression that you’re a character in a dramatic social satire enhances the dining experience, where you can find yourself forgiving The Victory Bar for providing a dimly lit space that makes identifying your menu selection somewhat difficult. The room itself is a great conversation starter for the drinking crowd, who can find the strength in feigning ignorance that Imbibe Magazine voted The Victory Bar one of the 100 best places to drink beer in Oceania. On a cold and rainy evening, once the literary atmosphere set in I knew that I had won the victory over myself: I loved The Victory Bar.

The Victory Bar
3652 SE Division Street
Portland, Oregon 97202
GPS Coordinates: 45°30’16.92″N 122°37’31.84″W

 

Dan & Louis Oyster Bar, Portland OR

Dan & Louis Oyster Bar, a landmark since 1907Dan & Louis Oyster Bar, a landmark since 1907

Portland, Oregon is small for a metropolitan city with a laid-back feel to it, but it boasts a thriving food community with something for everyone. In addition to haute cuisine, food carts, delightfully off-center establishments (such as Le Bistro Montage and Voodoo Doughnuts) and the lion’s share of coffee houses, Portland is also home to a handful of historic eateries with long and rich pedigrees like Huber’s Cafe. One of these antiques began humbly as an oyster bar back in 1907 in a time when Portland was a thriving port. Louis Wachsmuth originally founded Louis’ Oyster Bar to sell oysters his family harvested out of Yaquina Bay (about 100 miles southwest as the crow flies on the Pacific Coast). Wachsmuth’s operation became so popular that he was able to expand into the Merchant’s Exchange Saloon in 1919, adding additional seafood dishes to the menu.

A half-dozen regional oysters (from upper right, clockwise)A half-dozen regional oysters (from upper right, clockwise)

As additional dining rooms were added, they were designed with standard nautical motif befitting a seafood house; Wachsmuth took this concept one step further in 1937 when laying out the main dining room, giving it the look and feel of eating in the belly of an old ship (complete with portholes). Louis’ Oyster Bar was a thriving family business that felt the impact of losing Wachsmuth’s son Dan to complications from the flue in 1938; as a tribute, the business was christened “Dan & Louis Oyster Bar”, which it maintains to this day and is still family owned and operated.

The ship-shaped main dining room, added in 1937The ship-shaped main dining room, added in 1937

One of the menu items added during the initial expansion in 1919 was a simple, yet rich and elegant dish that remains Dan & Louis Oyster Bar’s most popular – the oyster stew. The brew is so ridiculously simple, yet decadent and flavorful; no reduction of this or shaved that or oak barrel aged oil of whatever – just Yaquina Bay oysters, milk, butter, salt and pepper. For the full effect, enjoying this warming concoction is best experienced in the main dining room. As the gleaming metal bowl is brought to the large, wooden galley table the thought crosses your mind that you may get doused as the room pitches on the waves, but the only risk of that happening is if the Willamette River floods its banks again. Taking in the steam rising from the stew makes you appreciate what you don’t smell – the oysters are shucked fresh before being cooked and although a sightless person could easily identify the seafood dish the aroma lets you know you’re in for a treat.

The rich, buttery oyster stew at Portland's Dan & Louis Oyster BarThe rich, buttery oyster stew at Portland's Dan & Louis Oyster Bar

Large, whole oysters are submerged in the opaque, yellow broth; each spoonful yields plump, firm and moist mollusks that necessitate savoring slowly. The ingredients are expertly blended – there’s the perfect amount of salinity, the black pepper doesn’t burn away the flavor, and the butter that separates at the top lightly coats each oyster to create an experience similar to dredging steamers through drawn butter. The rule of thumb at most restaurants is not to go crazy with the carbs when the bread comes out, but you’re going to want to retain some or at least have some oyster crackers at hand to sponge up the creamy aphrodisiac.

The front bar where the shucking gets doneThe front bar where the shucking gets done

Of course, don’t pass up the opportunity to sample regional oysters on the half shell. Although the Yaquina Bay oysters Louis Wachsmuth became famous for are now in short supply (what hasn’t been over-fished is supplied to higher paying customers on the East Coast), Dan and Louis still rotates a decent variety of the local mollusks. Whether by the half or full dozen, these pearls of the sea are shucked at the old bar in the front window, with the list of the day’s selection written on the chalkboard behind the bar. I recently tried the Deer Creek, Gigamoto, Nisqually, Penn Cove, Snow Creek and Tillamook Bay shellfish. Each was relatively small in comparison to other oysters, with the diminutive Gigamoto’s shell being no bigger than a half dollar. Although the oysters were from either Oregon or bordering Washington State, they couldn’t have been more diverse in texture and flavor. While the aromatic and strong-flavored Deer Creek and Tillamook Bay seem to be the most popular, and the Gigamoto (a cross between the Kumamoto and Pacifica) is mild with a low salinity, my favorite was the Nisqually, striking a nice balance of salinity, sweet flavor and firmness.

Portland has a plethora of unique and often historic eateries that serve food perfect for the cool, damp clime of the Northwest, and experiencing this hidden treasure tucked away on a narrow, quiet street is like finding a lustrous pearl hiding in the rough recesses of a shell bed.

Dan & Louis Oyster Bar
208 Southwest Ankeny Street
Portland, OR 97204
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’20.83″N 122°40’21.46″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to the historic Dan & Louis Oyster Bar in Portland, Oregon

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