Food I Ate With Meat
You're now browsing the category archive for Food I Ate With Meat.
Often lost in the excitment that is the Whisky Soda Lounge,
…it’s easy to overlook the shack that started it all is still consistently churning out earnest and tasty thai grub. The patio tables are now reserved for the restaurant proper, so this is a grab and go affair.
This is the menu. All of it.
Pok Pok always features a daily special with MAMA brand instant noodles, and it’s served with meat from their delicious game hens. I love them for this “proletariat” handshake.
Papaya pok pok ($8.00).
1/2 a roast game hen ($6.50). Two dipping sauces, including a sweet and sour chili sauce and a darker, tamarind flavored soy.
pok pok
address: 3226 se division, pdx
telephone: 503 232 1387
pokpokpdx.com
Toro Bravo is located on NE Russell, just west of MLK.
Toasted chick peas grace your table as soon as you’re seated.
Manchego and Paprika Fritters with spicy salsa roja.
Seared Scallops with romesco.
Griddled Bacon Wrapped Dates with warm honey.
Spicy Octopus and Prawn Stew.
House Smoked Coppa Steak with olive oil poached potatoes chopped olives and salbitxada.
Lamb Braised with Apricots & Coriander with homemade egg noodles.
There’s a reason why Toro Bravo is the best tapas restaurant in Portland, if not one of our fine city’s finest eateries.
Toro Bravo
120 NE Russell Street
Portland, OR 97212
503.281.4464
www.torobravopdx.com
Hae Rim is a Korean restaurant in Beaverton, just west of the 217.
The BiBimBob section of the menu.
The best part of a Korean meal is all the side dishes you get. It must really suck to be a dishwasher at a Korean restaurant.
The standard BiBimBob.
The banchan parade.
The BiBimBob at Hae Rim isn’t a transcendental experience, but it’s solid comfort food. $8.95.
The meal is capped off with this cold, sweet barley tea, which may sound odd.
But not as odd as this. Perhaps it’s because of Tony Brinkley, Moonies, and the Washington Times, but I find this Korean religious propoganda extremely creepy.
Hae Rim
11729 SW Beaverton-Hillsdale Hwy,
Beaverton, OR
Phone: (503) 671-9725
I was in the Bay Area recently, and hit Ramen Hula.
Before leaving North Beach that morning, I did a search for the best ramen in South Bay. Your usual suspects came up, mostly in San Jose and San Mateo, with a couple in Mountain View. However, one blogger whose name I don’t remember and whose blog address I forget said Hula in San Jose was the best, and that was good enough for me. Later when we were at the establishment, a framed article by Melanie Wong in the San Jose Mercury proclaimed Hula #1 in the in the Top 10 ramen restaurants in the South Bay Area, so my instincts in this instance proved correct.
An hour later and a few failed opportunities for carbon offsets later, we were in San Jose, right off the I-280 freeway.
Across the street was a fitting visage for our times.
Hula opens for lunch at 11:30 AM sharp. At 11:15, there was already a line.
The Indian market next door advertised what appeared to be the Bollywood version of One Crazy Summer.
The menu features pre-configured specialties.
And also an a la carte itemization for a pimp-it-yourself ramen experience and a most excellent drink menu.
We started with this delightful okara salad. The texture was like a thick farmer’s cheese. Very refreshing.
Shio ramen. A light broth, thin noodles. Pretty straightforward, but decent (if a bit perfunctory).
The special house Ramen Hula. Thick noodles, bold, strong, assertive broth that was a veritable salt bomb. The pork was meaty, yet tender.
The broth literally had chunks of pork fat floating in it. So unctuous.
The noodles were thicker than most ramen I’ve had, and I loved them. This was a good damn bowl of soup.
In the back of the house, I saw them breaking out the crack torch for each bowl of HALU ramen that left the kitchen. My theory is that they put chunks of pork fat on top of freshly ladled bowls of ramen and melted the fat into the soup.
After I snapped the photo, this proprietoress gave me a slightly askew look. At the time I wondered perhaps she thought I was stealing trade secrets, but she probably was thinking I was a pervert for scoping her rack.
If you’re in San Jose by a freeway, I suggest you get some ramen.
Ramen Hula
375 South Saratoga Ave
San Jose, 95129
408.246.3933
Website
Phở Binh Minh (no relation to Binh Minh nee Maxim Sandwiches) is located just north of dowtown Tigard, half a mile south of the 217/99w intersection.
It is a pretty standard-issue, family-run Vietnamese restaurant. Which explains why I enjoy eating here.
Phở Binh Minh opened in late spring of 2007, and has a new-ish, recently baked feel. There’s a surreptitious hallway to the left as you enter that leads to a video crack room that seems to exist within a vacuum in its own strange, alternate existence, completely divorced from the prosaic reality in the main dining room.
Ah, Oregon. You can feed a daily addiction, diverted from and sheltered by society, but pumping your own gas is verboten.
The Goi Cuon (with shrimp and poached pork loin) is fresh and features a nice amount of fresh herbs.
Here’s a cross-section view.
The Goi Cuon Chay (vegetarian) were very nice - extremely large. The fried tofu was excellent, and it was packed with Thai basil. The fillings were bursting from the seams - one of of the rolls was nearly falling apart. But I’ll take that any day over a small petite salad roll.
The garnish platter isn’t the most ample, but features just enough for a large bowl. Big ups for the sawleaf herb (ngo gai).
The Phở Tai Chin (with rare beef and braised brisket).
Note: if you’re ordering phở tai (rare beef), ask for your “steak on the side”—if you like it that way—and you’re sure to get it. The waiters are sons of the family,and speak English fluently. And you get a fair amount of lean, thin slices of beef round draped on a side plate with your soup.
Brisket.
The phở here is an honest, hearty bowl of soup. It’s not the most nuanced of broths, but it’s a flavorful, “clean” broth and it’s evident the cooks pays careful attention to the stock. It is very reminiscent of the stocks I grew up eating from the various kitchens of my Mom, aunt, and their various friends. The fresh rice noodles are consistently toothsome.
Their papaya salad, quite frankly, rocked my world. For $4.95 it was chock full of fresh shrimp (and pork - there was a good amount of protein), and the herbs were aplenty - rau ram and basil. The Viet version of papaya salad is less tangy than Thai version, with more of a focus on sweetness (some may call it cloying), but ample slices of fresh jalapeno played well against that. Really, really good.
I’ve also sampled a few other items at Phở Binh Minh. The Bun Tom Thit Nuong was large, ample. The grilled pork in this dish was seasoned nicely will lemongrass, and the skewer of 3 grilled shrimp were slightly overcooked, but otherwise good. Their nuoc cham I think is bland, a bit on the sweet side (I like my cham fiery and tangy). A decent version, albeit subdued—the garnish (just cukes, pickles, lettuce, sprouts) could have used fresh mints and basil.
Their cia gio is a pretty good rendition, as well. This place serves solid, fresh food with proteins that never have “off” tastes (something I can’t say about certain other Vietnamese places in town). On the strengths of their standard-issue Vietnamese dishes, Phở Binh Minh is in a league with some of the better Viet restaurants in Portland.
Phở Binh Minh
11945 SW Pacific Hwy Ste 212
Tigard, OR 97223
(503) 968-0121
Map
I’ve described my process for making unnaturally red char sui bbq pork. Here’s what you can do with it. Make a sandwich.
I’ve made bánh mì on this blog a couple times in the past. Here’s a bbq pork bánh mì, with the requisite radish and carrot garnish, that, incidentally, if you leave to marinate on the counter at room tempurature for more than a few hours it will then smell like crusty taint seeped in an ass perfume.
Ass Salad
- Equal parts daikon radish and carrots (julienned, roughly—I prefer flatter pieces)
- Rice vinegar and sugar (1 tablespoon sugar for every 1/2 cup of rice vinegar)
Combine and mix thoroughly. Allow to assify at room temp for an hour or two and then stick in the fridge.
Garnish
For me, I need cilantro, jalapenos (preferably sliced length-wise), cucumber (essential), pickles, and Maggi.
I also usually prefer to sub in a conventional french roll from a local bakery, as opposed to a Viet/French bakery, whose crust I feel aren’t substantial enough to agnonizely pierce the top of my mouth. Label it gastronomic S&M, if you will.
Slice up your char sui pork. Assemble the sandwich. I like to lightly toast the bread.
A fully dressed sandwich. One of those rare moments in life where you think maybe all of it is really worth it.
Dispatches from San Francisco: dim sum at Ton Kiang ($78, without tax, including soft drinks and tea).
We were barely seated before string beans, cabbage, and a first wave of dumplings were delivered.
Shrimp and snow pea dumpling.
Shrimp and scallop dumplings.
Shrimp and chive dumplings.
Sauteed string beans with shitake mushrooms.
Steamed choy.
Shrimp har gow.
We asked for hot sauce, this green sauce was delivered with a red chili garlic sauce.
Potstickers.
Turnip cake.
“Siu Lung bao”, Shanghai dumplings.
Served with vinegar.
Sauteed spinach with fried/braised garlic.
BBQ pork buns.
BBQ pork bun, split.
Fried sesame balls.
Fried squid.
Roast duck.
Tofu skin roll.
Pork shu mai.
Rice porridge cart.
Rice porridge.
Ton Kiang
5821 Geary Blvd
San Francisco, CA
94121
website
A long time ago I posted to http://portlandfood.org inquiring into where I could get xiao long bao in Portland.
For anybody who is unsure what xiao long bao is I encourage you to read Jaden’s extemely superlative XLB post.
Most responses came up short. However, I recently received an email from Cuisine Bon Femme that said to keep an eye out for a certain food cart downtown that had just opened. God bless her heart.
Sure enough, Asian Station food cart on SW Pine and 10th downtown serves up these elusive elixirs. I stopped by a recent Saturday morning (note: they are not open on Saturdays. This was a winter anomoly).
You get 8 dumplings to an order.
My camera ran out of batteries, but this photo is cribbed from their their website. But I can assure you, they look exactly just like these. Except they are served in a plastic container sans napa cabbage pillow.
Served with a plastic ramekin of Chinese vinegar, with a bottle of Siracha within reach, you’re reminded of why Portland’s downtown food cart scene really is a special thing.
Taqueria Pico de Gallo sits squarely in the epicenter of South Tucson, on South 6th Avenue, a mile south of 22nd Avenue. South Tucson is an anomoly; it’s an enclave that covers roughly a square mile, and it’s surrounded entirely by the city of Tucson proper. South Tucson has its own municipal services and zoning regulations, and its own mayor and city council. Why they would want to do this is anybody’s guess. All I can say is that — despite having a crime rate higher than Camden, New Jersey (aka America’s most dangerous city and all-around fun zone) — the citizens of South Tucson obviously choose to live here because of the proximity to some good-ass tacos1.
Contrary to what some normally consider to be “pico de gallo”, namely, a salsa fresca made with chopped fresh tomatoes, the namesake in this instance refers to the deliciously fresh fruit cups served up by the taqueria (and sprinkled with chili salt).
They also serve these fruity, frozen raspados, which are coincidentally crafted…
…right next door.
Enough with food that is not tacos.
The breakfast menu.
The menu board.
The full menu luckily is available in the early AM (and from which I order breakfast when I’m in town).
This is the only table sauce they have on hand, a thick, incendiary concoction made from chile de arbol.
The taco plates are garnished with excellent pickled onions. The tortillas at Pico De Gallo are wonderful, thick, substantial discs of stoney masa goodness, freshly prepared on the premises. They are unlike any other Mexican restaurant in the Tucson area (which for the most part tilts towards flour as does Sonoran cuisine).
The tortillas here work together with a crispy, fried pillows of mild flesh to form one of the best fish tacos I’ve had, especially considering the nearest port is Puerto Penasco some 4 hours away in Mexico. The white sauce — normally a conceit I’ll even leave off my fish taco — here is a perfect foil for the fiery table salsa.
A decent asada.
Birria.
Barbacoa. These shredded meat tacos are a bit juicy/saucy, and tend to saturate the tortillas to the point where they have difficulty standing up. (This does not apply to the cabeza, which is shredded beef cheek and holds up well). However, the shredded meats are well prepared and are worth ordering — I would perhaps eat these first.
Here’s the proof that I paid for my meal.
Taqueria Pico de Gallo
2618 South 6th Avenue (Google Map)
85713 (
520)623-8775
Links
Footnotes
1 I lived just a mile-and-a-half north of South Tucson for a few years. I walked and biked all over the place, even late at night. It’s not that bad. I did get three bikes stolen.
In fact, I stayed just over a mile north of this place during my time in Tucson, at my wife’s godmother’s guest house.
The most dangerous thing I encountered was this cactus. This fucking evil plant ruined many an afternoon growing up, as while trying to catch an errant outlet pass you might end up in a patch, and hundreds of these miniscule, orange hair-like spines would attach to your lower calf with ferocity. Only a long soak in an oatmeal bath would temper the pain and suffering.
Lanvin French Bakery is located just behind the Phở Oregon on NE 82nd. As you access the back entrance to Phở Oregon from the parking lot, Lanvin occupies just a diminutive storefront but it’s impossible to miss.
First and foremost, Lanvin is a Vietnamese bakery. If you seen 6 packs of sandwich baguettes at any Asian store in the Portland metro area, look closely and you might find the Lanvin stamp on the package. In fact, I had a chicken parm sandwich from Pizza Fino once and the bread bore a strong resemblence to a Lanvin roll.
As with many things Vietnamese, Lanvin delves deep into Francophilia.
Here are some of the baked goods you’ll find:
In addition to savory items like banh bao (large, doughy steam cakes filled with a meat cake made from ground pork, dried mushrooms, Chinese sausage and hard-boiled egg which served as many a breakfast growing up), you’ll find…
Bánh mì. A small, focused selection.
The grilled pork. Nice amount of fat, and a decent meat ratio. The sandwich is dressed nicely. Lanvin gets major points for including a long cucumber slice and generous amounts of Maggi in this sandwich.
The bbq pork. This sandwich gets a spread of pate.
Unfortunately, I think the sandwich is dressed with too much mayo.
Lanvin makes a decent sandwich. I wouldn’t hesistate to grab a grilled pork when I’m in the area. However, I feel their bread is a bit too light and the texture a bit too airy, even when toasted nicely (which they do here), so it would be hard to choose Lanvin over Binh Minh, which is a couple miles away.
Lanvin French Bakery
8211 Ne Brazee St
Portland, OR 97220
(503) 252-0155
More learnin’
I went to high school and college in Tucson, Arizona, and my mom and my wife’s parents still reside in the desert, so I make it back often.
When I had an office on Congress street in the early aughts, we were a very short walk from Little Cafe Poca Cosa, and thus spent many a morning there eating my favorite dish, pork chile colorado. It was a great desayuno. And sometimes lunch too.
Little Cafe Poca Cosa is not to be confused with Cafe Poca Cosa the elder, which is a decidely much more upscale affair at a different downtown location.
Some real estate snafu has forced the little cafe to move from its former hole-in-the-wall locale to this spot on Stone Avenue adjacent to the Tucson public library.
Speaking of the Tucson public library…what the hell is this?
The interior is a bit sparse, but larger (by a factor of two) than the previous place.
The folks at Little Poca Cosa (it is owned and operated by a family with deep roots in Southern Arizona) are very socially conscious. They continually raise money for good causes, and invite their guests to help out. Dropping a buck after a meal into the till really does help you karmically correct yourself before you wreck yourself.
The breakfast menu.
The lunch menu.
As soon as you’re seated, you’re greeted by chips and salsa.
My old mainstay, the pork chili colorado. Like visiting with an old girlfriend, only without the restraining orders.
All lunch plates are served with a simple but satisfying rice, and a colorful salad.
The dressing for the salad — a nice, herby vinagrette — sits on the table, allowing you to douse to your heart’s content.
Plates are served with your own personal tortilla warmer…
…with your own personal stash of tortillas and…
…these wonderfully cooked pinto beans on the side.
So how was it? Good, just as I remember, though a bit more mild than I recall. My M.O. is to douse and eat the salad, then drop a few pieces of pork into the tortillas and garnish with salsa and eat those as impromptu tacos.
Finally, the last step is to eat the rice, which — when combined with the leftover salad dressing mixed with red chili sauce — becomes sublime.
Just outside the door you’ll find this steampunk public art installation. I like touching it.
Best Baguette is the splashy entrant into the PDX bánh mì universe, the hair-sprayed cousin with manicured nails, knock-off couture, and shiny new car. Modeled after some of the trendy sandwich emporiums indigenous to Southern California (i.e. Lee’s Sandwiches), Best Baguette instantly sets itself apart from mom-n-pop bánh mì shops with its conspicious ambition. For one thing, it has a drive-thru. A drive-thru!
They got signage and everything, and somebody is shelling out serious coin at the local reprographics shop, as these promotional banners attest. The main promo banner tells me if I order like 13 sandwiches I will score an iced coffee.
Their menu wall is in color. They feature many flavors of boba. I have no interest in boba, as I am not a communist.
Notice how the photo for the Chicken Salad sandwich is absent. Maybe it was sick on yearbook photo day.
Here’s some thumbnails of the menu. In addition to a full range of Vietnamese specialties, including a sardine option, many Americanized/Euro versions are offered. Again, I know not what these sandwiches are like, as, alas, I am not a fascist. Though I am strangely intrigued by the “savory shrimp in a new form of sandwich”. Who wouldn’t be?
One thing that bugs me about Best Baguette is that they pack their garnishes in a seperate, plastic bag. For one thing, it’s a needless waste. Secondly, it affects the material composition of the sandwich. Ask them to pack that shit in there.
How’s the sandwich? Very good. It is one of the longer Vietnamese sandwiches you’ll find, though the baguette itself is much more narrow than others. Their bread has improved since their opening days.
You’ll also find frozen iced treats of some sort. I haven’t ordered any, probably for the same reason I wouldn’t order a sardine sandwich at Mio Gelato.
Best Baguette is also a bakery, selling various breads…
…including these monstrous yeast amalgamations that look like they’re swiped from the set of Pan’s Labrynth.
The baguettes themselves are great when you want to indulge in a childhood treat, in this case the french bread pizza, which got me through many a lonely night during puberty.
Summary: Best Baguette makes a decent sandwich. With Binh Minh just a quarter-mile away, it’s hard to opt over that if you’re talking pure quality, but Best Baguette has a wider selection, it has a drive-through, and its glossy, Westernized modernity sometimes is a nice change of pace. Also, Best Baguette keeps good hours, serving sandwiches into the evening.
Best Baguette
8308 SE Powell Blvd
Portland, OR 97266
(503) 788-3098
Google map
This is essentially a red chili stew that can be made with either pork or beef. The key here is low and slow, and long, which allows the collagen of the meat to break down and become fall-apart tender. My adaptation here is fairly spicy; you might want to tone it down if you’re trying this at home.
The can of commercially made chili sauce may sound like an unnecessary shortcut to you. That’s your right. You’re entitled to your opinion. I just like the way it sort of “rounds” things off. You could omit and increase the liquid and dried/powdered chili if you feel like riding that high horse.
Carne Guisado
- 3 pounds beef shank, beef chuck, or pork shoulder, trimmed of excess fat (probably around 2 1/2 pounds), cut into one inch pieces
- Flour
- Vegetable oil
- 1 28 oz can Mexican brand red chili sauce (such as Las Palmas)
- 1 1/2 cups beef broth
- 4 dried guajillo chilies, stem and seeds removed
- 1 onion, chopped
- 7 cloves garlic, forced through garlic press
- 1/2 teaspoon pasilla chili powder
- 1/2 teaspoon chile de arbol powder
- 1/2 teaspoon new mexico chili powder
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
- 3 bay leaves
- 2 dried habanero peppers, stemmed
- 1/4 bunch of cilantro, torn
Preheat oven to 250 degrees.
Put guajillo chilies in a small saucepan and cover with 1 cup of beef broth. Simmer on low for 20 minutes. Remove chilies to cool.
Split the chilies, and using the back of your knife, scrape the flesh from the inside of chili. Discard the skin.
Put meat pieces into a large mixing bowl and dust with flour, and mix to coat lightly. Heat vegetable oil in cast iron dutch oven, and brown beef.
Add the the rest of the ingredients, stir to mix, and bring to a rapid simmer.
Cover and transfer to oven. Wait 2.5 hours, remove cover, stir, and return to the oven for another hour. Make sure you don’t eat those habaneros.
There are a couple ways I like to consume this. One way, as you can see in the first photo in this post, is with a mildly seasoned rice.
Rice
- 1 cup long grain white rice
- 1 1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
- 1/2 white onion
- 1 garlic clove, minced
- 1 tablespoon or so vegetable oil
- 1 teaspoon anatto seeds
- 1/4 teaspoon cumin
- 1/4 teaspoon coriander
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
Put oil in small saucepan, add anatto seeds, and allow the seeds to perfume/color the oil over low heat for ten minutes. Drain oil into large saucepan and throw away the seeds.
Heat oil over medium heat, add onion and sweat. Add rice, garlic, spices, and saute for a couple minutes. Pour over broth, stir, cover, and simmer over low for 15 minutes. Turn off heat and allow to sit for half an hour. Remove cover and fluff rice.
Another option I enjoy is shredding the meat with a fork.
And enjoying it in taco format with your favorite table salsas and chopped onion/cilantro.
Or the next morning fry up a couple corn tortillas and an egg. Put the egg on top of the tortilla, top with shredded stew meat, add a few spoonfuls of the sauce, top with queso fresco, and put under the broiler for 30 seconds. Top with chopped onion/cilantro and a squirt of hot salsa.
Just a half mile south from “main street downtown” Tigard lies Sanchez Taqueria. This unassuming Mexican restaurant that speckles the 99W corridor might serve the best goddamn tacos in the Portland metropolitan area.
Sanchez Taqueria is packed on the weekends, with a lively crowd that squeezes into the small dining area. Tables on occasion will be shared with strangers, making this possibly a “communal” dining experience.
Lucky enough for me eating tacos is a mostly a drag race affair.
The menu board at Sanchez Taqueria. (Click here to view the menu (PDF, 667 KB)
The taco triumvarite. You’ll notice things are a bit different here. The tacos themselves are staggered upon themselves, and — at first glance — you can’t even see the fillings.
First off, let’s talk about the tortillas. They are made on the premises. They are amazing. Fluffy, flatbread-like pillows of white corn goodness. I had to flag down a runner to confirm that they were indeed corn — they seemed too impossibly doughy (for lack of a better word) to be masa. They are almost pita-ish. In all my taco eating travails, these tortillas rank at the very top of the deliciousness scale.
The green and red sauce. The green is amazing — immediately salty and piquant, with a noticeable afterburn. On the whole the green table sauce actually packs more punch than the red, which itself is delicious and imparts a lovely smokiness due (I think) to chipolte and roasted dried (guajillo?) chilies.
The tables also feature this fiery chili paste, with an oil base. This is for the menudo/posole/sopa, which is quite popular on weekends. I’m afraid to put this on my tacos, as my cranium is already sieving sweat whenever I leave this place.
Carnitas. Not the absolute best carnitas I’ve had, but definitely serviceable if not delicious in its own right.
Pastor. This is ethereal. A meat triumph. Crispy, succinct nuggets of seasoned pork. A literal taco supernova.
Fully dressed asada taco. The carne, like everything else, is top notch. Seasoned to the hilt.
Since in past taco surveys I’ve been forced to include pescado, to be fair here’s Sanchez’s fish taco (which weighs in at $2.25). As you can see, it’s hardly baja in style. It’s a flat grilled/fried, non-battered tilapia filet topped simply with a chiffonade of white cabbage (which also dressed the carnitas) and cilantro. It, too, makes an amazing taco at the hands of the taqueros at Sanchez Taqueria.
The tortillas here are large and generous, even so that the ample meat fillings can be enveloped and eaten bite-by-bite like pillowy wraps of crispy, deliciously filled meaty crepes. Each bite can be accentuated with generous and alternating squirts of red and green flavor injections. Though tacos approach $2 apiece, the value can’t be underestimated. These are easily 2x other taqueris/trucks, with the added bonus being some of the most superlative tortillas your teeth will ever bite into.
I’ve fallen completely for Sanchez Taqueria. It easily is one of Portland’s best taquerias, if not Mexican restaurants. Worth to note: they have huaraches and chavindecas (NOTE THIS LINKS TO A PDF OF THE MENU).
Sanchez Taqueria
13050 SW Pacific Hwy
Tigard, OR 97223
Phone: (503) 684-2838
This past summer I spent some time in Clackamas, just southeast of Portland, as my wife was recovering for a couple weeks from surgery at the far southeast (Sunnyside) Kaiser Permanente.
On SE 82nd there’s a nice Vietnamese restaurant called Pho Huy. It’s just a few doors down from Penzey’s spices.
The interior is a bit more “polished” than most divey Vietnamese restaurants in town (Pho Van notwithstanding).
The garnish platter that accompanies an order of pho tai chin is pretty sparse. Just a sprig of basil, no ngo gai (aka culuntro). As with many places, the jalapenos are mild and impart very little in terms of accentuation. At least the lime wedge was fairly large.
The soup. The top round is sliced thin and is served farely rare, so Pho Huy gets bonus points here.
The brisket here was very tender and flavorful. Overall, the pho is decent. I would consider it middle-of-the road in terms of Pho options in the Portland area. Everything is done well enough, it’s just not blowing my mind. The broth is a bit overstated rather than balanced, with too much of an emphasis on cinnamon/star anise. But I would certainly down a bowl if I was visiting Penzeys to get my spice on. At $7.50/bowl, the soup here occuppies the upper-end of Portland pho pricing.
On another occasion I ordered goi cuon to start with (with nuoc mam aka cham instead of the hoisin/peanut, as is the preferred way of those who aren’t communists), and had the bun thit tom (grilled shrimp and pork).
The goi cuon was fresh and decent. For $4.50, they are quite small and I would consider them a ripoff, when compared to other places in town. Also, there was no mint (or herbs for that matter — just lettuce), however, there was caramelized shallots rolled in between the shrimp and pork, which added a nice, unexpected flavor. The meats were fresh, not off tasting, so major points for that.
The rice noodle dish was good, I must admit. I enjoyed my bun thit here more than I’ve enjoyed it at Banh Cuon Tanh Dinh, which the conventional wisdom commonly decrees one of the best Viet places in town.
The dish featured three medium, grilled shrimp on a skewer. The shrimp were mildly flavored, but fresh. The pork (loin) featured boneless broad slices that had been marinated, grilled and then sliced. This seems to be the style many places employ (I prefer the style where paper thin slices of fatty pork are threaded unto a skewer, grilled, and then de-skewered). The marinade is rather mild in approach, probably fish sauce, sugar, and a smattering of lemongrass.
The noodles were nice and room temperature, and the vegetable garnishes are very fresh. Again, no mint (though there was cilantro). I can’t see how any Vietnamese restaurant in Portland would not use mint when it proliferates at every Southeast Asian market, where you can pick up spearmint, perilla, etc., for sometimes under a buck a bunch. Eating Vietnamese bun dishes, goi cuon, and bun rieu without mint is like having sex missionary style while still wearing your shirt and socks. In fact, it’s worse. It’s more like a dry hump.
That said, I fairly enjoyed the bun…the nuoc mam “cham” was somewhat mild, but I’m a freak, and I was able to punch it up with the chili and fish sauces on the table. Again, at $7.95 it’s a modest portion, so it’s not the best value in terms of Vietnamese food in the Portland area.
The owner here has a reputation I guess for being “pushy”. I could see how some people could get the impression, but I think she’s just being a bit overly helpful, which can be overbearing (since I look somewhat indeterminately ethnic and ordered using my best Viet Kieu patois I was spared). Since a majority of dishes coming out of the kitchen were bun, she was doing her best to guide Mr. and Mrs. Whitey Q. Caucasian in terms of dressing the noodles appropriately with the nuoc mam “cham”, playing the role of the patronizingly altruistic Asian hostess. She would describe the sauce as a “spicy chili vinagrette”, without mentioning the presence of fish sauce that serves as the base, which is something I’ve been guilty of in the past, including in the fifth grade when I brought my mom’s cha gio to our classroom potluck.
Pho Huy
11342 SE 82nd Ave
Happy Valley, OR 97086
(503) 353-6646
“Ciuppin” @Basta’s.
The original version of ciopino made on the Ligurian coast. Fresh clams, mussels, calamari, shrimp and other seasonal fresh fish sauteed with garlic, onion, parsley white wine served over garlic crostini. 17
Was good. I like Basta’s. They are often overlooked as Portland falls all over itself to out-sustain each other, but do a good job.
The head of that langoustine was tasty. Though sucking the head of a large shellfish, loudly, in a public place, is sort of weird thing to do.
Basta’s Trattoria
410 NW 21st Ave
Portland, OR 97209
(503) 274-1572
At $1.50 for a carnitas, and for asada and pastor tacos clocking in at nearly 2 bucks ($1.95), the tacos at La Bonita occupy the upper-end of the taco price scale. However, for what you’re getting, it’s a pretty fair deal.
The taco triumvarite.
Asada. The meat was simultaneously tender and crispy. Nice, ample chunks of carne splendor.
Pastor. Expertly scented pork nuggets seasoned with achiote. Again, tender and bountiful. Excellent.
Carnitas. Perfect, meaty chunks of fall-apart tender pork, slightly greasy, as it should be. A quintessential carnivorous flavor.
A fully dress asada taco. The green table sauce is tangy, with a lovely saltiness. The red sauce has changed since my last visit. It used to be a fiery, intense red sauce made predominately from chilies. The recent version has a tomato component, and is much more subdued. Not as intense as I’d prefer, but delicious nonetheless. I would eat it with chips.
The toning down of the heat in the primary table sauce may be a direct nod to the growing gentrification of the Alberta/Concordia neighborhood.
La Bonita’s facade has been redesigned since my last visit.
At $2 a clip, the tacos here are twice the price of other taqueries, including the 2 other shops just walking distance from La Bonita on Alberta.
But as you can see with the gentle overflowing of delicious pork goodness from this pastor taco, it is easily worth it. The last few tacos I’ve had here are some of the best I’ve had since I’ve been in Portland. La Bonita has hit their stride.
The wall mural at La Bonita.
La Bonita
2839 Ne Alberta St
Portland, OR 97211
(503) 281-3662
I like the New Seasons butcher counter. It’s a shame, as my entire life in Portland, I lived biking distance to a New Seasons (Sellwood, then Concordia, then Arbor Lodge), but now that I live in Southwest there’s no longer a New Season super close-by. However, there is a Fantasy Video Adult Superstore.
I digress. New Seasons has a variety of ground meats and sausages of various derivations, sold by the pound, ground and prepared on the premises. They have a nice selection of ground chicken, including an excellent spicy Italian sausage. After seeing Je Mange La Ville’s take on Italian Wedding Soup, I decided to give it a shot using New Seasons spicy chicken sausage, rolled into meatball form, which added a nice undulating heat to the soup. And instead of a small Italian pasta, I used orzo, which is more associated with Greek cuisine. And I didn’t add the egg, which to me would remind me too much of egg drop soup. I also added other stuff. So think of this as…
Italian Divorce Soup (with a Pre-Nup)
- 3 quarts homemade chicken broth
- 1 pound ground, hot italian chicken sausage
- One tablespoon butter
- 1 onion, chopped
- 6 stalks of celery, leaves and ends trimmed, split lengthwise then sliced 1/4″ thick
- 3 or 4 decent sized carrots, peeled, sliced into coins
- 8 oz. sliced button mushroom
- Entire bunch of green kale or chard, chopped
- 1 garlic cloved, minced
- 3 sprigs of thyme
- 1/4 cup dry white wine
- 1 teaspoon dried Italian seasoning or marjoram
- 3 bay leaves
- 4 ounces dried orzo
- Salt and pepper
Roll those meatballs.
Melt butter in large pot or dutch oven over medium heat. Add onions, carrots, and celery, season with dried herbs and some salt and pepper. Sweat vegetables for a couple minutes. Raise heat to high, add white wine, and stir for a minute or two.
Add garlic, mushrooms, kale, and pour chicken broth over everything, and bring to a boil. Add meatballs, lower heat to low, and simmer for ten minutes. Add orzo, and continue to simmer for 20 minutes. Add salt and pepper to your tastes. I find soups much more pleasurable allow it to sit and “steep” for a while before eating. Your results may vary.
Enjoy it on a cold, rainy day, of which we have many in Portland. If you live in some place that’s perpetually sunny and warm, you can still enjoy a hot bowl of soup before your environment becomes inhabitable and your society eventually erodes.
In the five years+ I’ve been in Portland, the bánh mì options have flourished like mushrooms on a rainy fall lawn (as I typed this, I had a spore in my backyard the size of a small frisbee).
New-ish options run from the very good (Vina Deli on 82nd - UPDATE - THIS PLACED JUST CLOSED :{), to the erstwhile (Cali Sandwiches on NE Glisan and the deli in the Fubonn Asian Superstore).
The best Viet sandwich in Portland IMHO can be found at both locations of Binh Minh…
one on NE Broadway (60ish, just north of I-84)…
and the other on SE Powell (just west of 82nd).
There’s a consensus that the proprietor lady at Binh Minh is notoriously cranky, and I can see how that consensus has been reached. But growing up amongst a cadre of Vietnamese cranks who insist on nagging your every move and decision and whose idea of escalating communicative skills consists of yelling louder in an increasingly annoying pitch, I’m somewhat impervious. She works at the NE Broadway location, but on a recent visit to the SE Powell location (which just opened this year), she was there.
She took my order, and I asked for double meat, and she got my order wrong, and gave me this “dac biet” (aka the “everything” in Vietnamese) instead of the lemongrass pork. However, I’m somewhat scared of her, so I ate it.
For the uninitiated, a dac biet generall means “everything including the kitchen sink”. Head cheese, Vietnamese bologna, a spread of pâté AND butter.
Here’s the bbq pork, from the NE Broadway location.
The short story is that the bánh mì here is very good. The younger lady behind the counter asked if I wanted sliced jalapenos, and of course I did - I think a bánh mì without chilies is like a hot dog without mustard. She toasted the bread with very thin slices of delicious bbq pork - the pork was lean enough (unlike, say, Fubonn, where it is half fat). The carrots were julienned nice and thin, and the entire sandwich was the “flavor bomb” that Mr. Pok Pok once eloquently described on a PortlandFood.org thread. The bread was nice and crusty and french - this is the best bánh mì I’ve had in Portland.
I also like how they include an option for more meat for 50 cents — my main quibble is that there’s never enough meat in a bánh mì. But you can always make your own overstuffed bánh mì if you so desire, but if you are looking for anymore than a snack, I would say order two sandwiches (@$2-3 apiece you can afford it).
Menu board at Binh Minh, NE Broadway location.
Menu board at Binh Minh, SE Powell location.
Both locations have a variety of ready-to-carry Vietnamese specialties, as this shot of the NE Broadway counter attests.
In addition, the NE Broadway location has heated items, including dimunitive cha gios and savory and delectable pâté chaud.
Binh Minh Bakery & Deli
6812 NE Broadway St, Portland
(503) 257-3868
Binh Minh Sandwiches
7821 SE Powell Blvd, Portland
(503) 777-2245
Links
Midnight snack: quarter-pound frank, slathered in pedestrian sauces, chopped tabasco peppers, tomatoes, onions, pickles, on a toasted stadium roll.
There was a time, when I first moved to Portland, that I hit Phở Hung every weekend morning. I lived in SE, and was hungover a lot. The host at the SE Powell location at the time was this Viet-Elvis looking dude, constantly jovial and pretty damn suave is all his post-FOB glory. I’m not sure if he’s still there.
Phở Hung-Powell was good, for the most part. The broth, if a tad greasy on ocassion, was nice and beefy, with a mellow — yet pronounced — spice profile. However, at times, the raw beef Tai was past its prime. The garnish platter was often only sparsely adorned with basil, the lime was just a nub, and the sawleaf herb was nowhere to be seen. But my wife loved (and still does, presumably — she works on SE Powell) their goi cuon chay (I would enjoy the meat-ful versions on occastion. But their nuoc cmam was insipid, though, just water and nuoc man cut with water, sugar, and a few slivered carrots).
When I discovered Phở Oregon, Phở Hung started to lose my visits. The NE Sandy/72nd location (now closed) was closer to my NE home at the time, and was not the same quality as the location on SE Powell. And every 3 months, when I got my wife’s Saturn serviced in Beaverton, I’d always hit the Phở Hung in Beaverton. I had three consecutive Phở meals here that bordered on laughable. The broth was swimming in grease. Large, tepid, brown discs of beef round were weathered by freezer burnt edges, and imparted a mouthfeel like shoe leather. And I’ve also visited the SE 82nd location, and the broth tasted like it could have come out of a can.
Phở Hung as a concept had become too inconsistent to earn my continued patronage.
So it was with slight suprise when I recently have a very good bowl of phở (and goi cuon) at Phở Hung. I found myself in Beaverton one morning, as my wife still drives a Saturn, and hiked down SW Canyon1 for a quick breakfast.
Goi cuon. A tight roll, fresh, and the meat was not-off tasting. A decent roll, but somewhat small.
But as the upskirt shot shows, it does not have much in the way of greens/herbs, outside of lettuce. This makes baby Uncle Ho cry.
Their nuoc cham is pedestrian. It needs generous doses of garlic chili sauce (conveniently in the condiment tray) to bring it up to snuff.
The garnish platter isn’t the most generous, but this was fresh. 3 slivers of jalapeno doesn’t cut it, as these are tame northwestern peppers. No saw leaf herb, aka culantro aka “ngo gai” (Vietnamese), though you can ask if they have it in-house. Pretend like you’re yelling, “yo guy!” except put an “N” in front (”n-yo guy!”). And you have to yell. It’s the preferred method of communicating with non-English speaking peoples, including the elderly2.
The soup, in this case phở tai chin, or soup with raw round and braised brisket. As you can see, the tai was truly rare, with only a brief scorch of hot broth used to cook the meat (just as it should be).
The brisket “chin”. The phở today was very good. I was pleasantly surprised. The broth was on the mark. The meats were tender, the chin here rivaled the last Phở Oregon visit (Sandy location) and was better than the last bowl I had at the Phở Oregon-82nd location.
When the Saturn needs to be serviced in 3 months (or 3,000 miles - whatever comes first), I’ll be back for another bowl.
Phở Hung
13227 SW Canyon Rd # B
Beaverton, OR 97005
(503) 626-2888
Footnotes
1 People on this road seem to regard pedestrians as meritless, contemptible beings that contribute little to society.
2 Apparently this works both directions. I don’t speak Vietnamese, and my mother has determined the only why she can communicate with me in English is by TALKING VERY LOUD. But I’ve heard her talk (in Vietnamese) on the phone — with her friends — and she tends to elucidate similarly by TALKING VERY LOUD AT ONE CONSTANT, SUSTAINED, NEAR-YELL. I’m not sure if her friends on the other end of the line are constantly startled by my mother’s pitch, or if this is just a commonly accepted phenomenom in her culture. So maybe it really is a) the Vietnamese people, or b) just my mom’s family. I suspect b), as I met my mom’s friends and they tend to be soft-spoken, but when I call my Aunt’s house and ask a question she responds in a such cacophony that you’d think you’re listening to an elephant choke on an entire pineapple.
Taqueria Delicias Mexicanas lies on the south end of NE Lombard, at the crook where the throughway leaves the northern boundary of Cully and officially completes a transformation into the PDX Airport back door express highway (Gartner’s Meat Market, Taqueria Estacion, and two inscrutably vague strip clubs1 notwithstanding).
It’s got a fairly noticeable sign, so while it may be easy to miss it once, after that it’s impossible to miss. The last few years I’ve made dozens upon dozens of trips past this spot, sometimes even in search of tacos. But it wasn’t until just recently that I finally stopped by.
The joint is a sit-down taqueria, with table service and chips and salsa and everything. I stopped by on an recent early Sunday just after dropping a friend off at the airport.
The have an extensive menu for a place that bills itself as a taqueria (including serving beer). Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5.
The salsa was a perfectly fine table sauce.
The chips were stale.
The taco triumvarite. I believe the tortillas at Taqueria Delicias are commercial. As you can see, I added a fourth taco, in this case a fish. I noticed some mariscos items on the menu and wanted a baseline in that department to determine if perhaps Delicias warranted a repeat visit for a coctel de camarones.
A fully dressed taco. The table sauces at Delicias are serviceable, if a bit tame.
Asada. The meat was chewy, and, as you can see, not very crisp. Somewhat funky in taste, as it had been sitting uncovered in a fridge for a bit too long.
Pastor. These were thin sheets of pork (leg?), pounded thin, and seasoned with adobo seasoning. Not bad, but not terribly good either.
Carnitas. On the bland side, with little of the rich, unctuous quality you’d associate with a superlative carnitas.
So how was the fish? Ugh. The meat consisted mostly of that fatty lip of the belly you would normally THROW AWAY. Furthermore, many pieces still had pieces of flabby skin attached to the gamy, ersatz flesh. The fish (maybe trout? tilapia?) was, well, fishy, and very “off”. I could not finish the taco.
With the Estacion taco truck just a bit further east, and with a few solid options in Concordia/Alberta, I’m not sure how Taquerias Delicias Mexicanas deserves a repeat visit. I’ve heard some generally positive things about their desayunos from a couple sources, so perhaps for a safe breakfast it might warrant a return.
Taqueria Delicias Mexicanas
5800 NE Portland Hwy
Portland 97218
(503) 493-0075
Footnotes
1 One of these strip clubs is non-alcoholic, meaning they are underage-friendly. There’s a cover charge and a one drink minimum. Watching full frontal with a bunch of 19-year old Mexican national daylaborers — all while sipping on a Fresca — is a very surreal, uncomfortably self-aware moment. Or so I’m told.
This is a classic Vietnamese seafood soup with a flavorful stock that draws flavor from a crab (or shrimp) paste “whip”, tomatoes and — like nearly all southeast Asian soups — fresh and distinctly aromatic herb garnishes.
The genesis for this version of Bún Riêu was the leftover carcass of a Diestel turkey. Pork pork neck bones were added as the stock starter, in addition to a combination of seafood-ish elements. Traditionally, if you are going full out, you’d get a whole crab and use that as your stock starter.
A big flavor component in this particular Bún Riêu was imparted by a couple dried seafood ingredients. Dried shrimp and dried scallops are added when simmering and removing the stock, adding a wonderful complexity. Dried shrimp are an easy score - most Asian (and all Vietnamse/Thai) markets will have them, and on the cheap, too. The dried scallops are another issue. They can be spendy, but they’re big on flavor, so a little goes a long way.
Here’s a commercially available crab paste which can be used for the protein “whip”. This brand is Taste Nirvana.
A Thai brand.
One thing I appreciate about Taste Nirvana is the seal on their label boasting of being 100% Real. When I cook, it’s important to me that the ingredients I use actually exist.
I’ve used shrimp sauce as well. A note on shrimp sauce: Shrimp sauce can come in a variety of forms. Lee Kum Kee makes a version that looks like a sludgy concrete slurry that’s probably best used to pave parking lot structures. Stay away from it. The kind you want is pinkly hued with a fair amount of crimson oil.
This version, in particular, had the word “Bún Riêu” right there on the label. Amazing, the serendipity. Don’t use the concentrated Thai variety (which is a very thick, dark red paste), Malaysian, or the Filipino versions.
A note on garnishes: I’ve added freshly poached shrimp and scored filets of squid, in addition to sliced raw onion and green onions. Fresh herbs really are essential to Bún Riêu - cilantro and the mint are vital, IMO. Spearmint, saw leaf herb, thai basil, in addition to more exotic herbs like fish mint and Vietnamese coriander (rau rahm) — it’s all good. Bean sprouts are essential, as is a squeeze of citrus (I prefer lemon with my Bún Riêu). Other garnishes could be a pinch of chiffonade of lettuce and banana blossoms.
Bún Riêu
Preparing the Broth
- Pre-made pork bone or chicken broth or both. Obviously a lot…a couple gallons or more.
- 2-3 tablespoons tamarind soup paste or 1/2 Tamarind packet (such as Knorr)
- Two dozen shrimp
- A few cuttlefish/calamari bodies, sliced to create 1 or 2 inch “filets”, and scored horizontally
- Dried shrimp (a little more than a dozen or so)
- Dried scallops (four or five)
- Small handful Whole peppercorns (white and black)
Add all ingredients together, bring to a boil. Remove fresh shrimp and calamari once they are cooked through, and set aside as garnish. Simmer on lowest setting for an hour.
Preparing the “Whip”
- Crab or Shrimp paste (2/3 of small jar - see the note above)
- Dried shrimp and scallop from broth (above)
- 10-12 raw shrimp
- 1 egg + 5 egg whites
- Ground white pepper
- 2 finely chopped green onions
Strain the broth. Remove dried shrimp and scallops. Using a mini-prep processor, grind up the shrimp/scallops, followed by raw shrimp. Give a few pulses to get a coarse grind. Beat eggs in a large mixing bowl, and add all remaining ingredients and mix into a paste.
Finishing the Broth
- 1 white onion, thinly sliced
- Vegetable oil
- 3 large tomatoes, cut into 1/8ths
- Fish sauce aka Nuoc Mam
- “Whip” from above
Fry the white onions. Add tomatoes and onions into broth, bring to boil. Stir and lower to low grade, simmering boil. Season the broth with nuoc mam as needed.
Grab the “whip” mixture and, using a medium spoon, drop lumps of the mixture into the undulating broth. These lumps will soon cook, rise to the top, and create a networked island of protein floatillas.
Turn off the heat and let stand for a half hour to meld flavors.
Assemble and Serve
Boil rice noodles and rinse with cold water. Assemble 4 ounces or so in a bowl. Garnish with shrimp and squid, paper thin sliced raw red onions, cilantro, chopped green onions, basil, mint, cilantro, culantro, Vietnamese coriander, bean sprout, etc. I like to give the bowl a quick 20 seconds in the microwave to bring things up to lukish-warm.
Pour hot broth over the soup, making sure to get a few choice protein flotillas. Squeeze lemon and snip a bird chili. You’re there.
Closeup shot of a protein floatilla. The texture is hard to describe, and could be somewhat offputting for the virgin, but once you get a craving you don’t lose it.
A few Xmas-es ago, I got my sister and her boyfriend a Calphalon grill pan as a present. Since they live in San Francisco, amongst the beatniks, grifters, and militant hobos, they are cramped for space and don’t have an outdoor patio by which to grill tasty meats. They claim the Calphalon is the best pan they’ve ever used for cooking steaks indoors. I tend to think nothing tops an old, worn-out cast iron pan, but I’ll let them think what they want.
Then I watched an episode of America’s Test Kitchen on PBS. That preachy Vermont guy and his trusty oily sidekick ran through a number of stovetop grill pans and proclaimed the Calphalon was the only brand that was worth its anodized aluminum.
Since I always need my decisions validated by a third party, I decided to pick one up for myself.
Also, since I had a leftover gift card from Christmas, I bought one of these meat tenderizers. I recalled flipping through the SkyMall™ during some flight and they featured this meat tenderizer that boasted it could make even the most erstwhile cut of beef as tender as sheets of caul fat soaked in rendered lard. Or something.
As you can see, the prongs of the tenderizer are quite menacing. I’m surprised a meat tenderizer was never used as plot device in the Sopranos.
To test the claims of the shameless copywriters who work for SkyMall™, I decided to pick up a grass-fed top round steak from Whole Foods, a cut you wouldn’t generally eat in steak form. I proceeded to rock the shit out of that flesh, nailing it a dozen times per side, then salted and peppered the pulverized steak before christening on the Calphalon. For good measure I sauteed some red chard in the same grill pan.
So did it work? Does the meat tenderizer make a top round taste like a filet mignon? Of course not, you fucking fool. But it does help a bit, especially if you intend to marinade your meat.
Sometimes, especially on the tail end of a late, warm summer’s eve, all you really need is some grilled beef, crusty bread, and sliced tomatoes. A cold beer and a seventh-inning stretch, and it reminds you that being alive is sometimes preferable than the alternatives.
I like to keep it working-class by using a sliced flat iron or sirloin (pictured above, from New Seasons market here in Portland). The steak itself is simply brushed with olive oil, and seasoned with sea salt and coarse cracked pepper. Maybe a couple sprigs of fresh rosemary from the garden.
Stack each slice of bread with tomatoes and a few slices of steak, and swallow.
The best part? The tomato/steak juice residue that collects on the plate. Be sure to save a couple slices of bread to sop this up, as this is the essence of life itself.
I had happy hour at Ten 01 recently. The place is the namesake of its address, which is 1001 NW Couch (For those new to Portland, “Couch” is not pronounced as you think. In fact, it took about 3 years before I was comfortable enunciating it correctly).
Ten 01 apparently got off to a rough start, but supposedly have righted the ship by hiring a capable chef from Southern California who has come in and established some consistency. At least that’s conventional wisdom. I definitely liked what I saw when I stopped by for a great happy hour meal here. The bar area is a real knockout. It’s a nice space.
Some drink with a kumquat. Forgot the other details (vodka?), but as you can see, it had a very sweet and delicious kumquat. Refreshing. Great cocktail.
Romaine with lemon-garlic dressing and toasted grana padano.
Bason-shallot tater tots. These were croquettes of bacon-n-alium-infused mash potatoes, breaded and fried. That sounds tasty. It was.
Burger sliders with Tillamook white cheddar. I loved them. The sauce was, I would say, a grain mustard aioli? The burgers were cooked expertly, slightly pink in the center. Scrumptious.
Sliders upskirt.
Fried green tomatoes. Unexpectedly (too) tart.
Oysters with that mignonette thingy (apple and pink peppercorn, in this case). Fresh, briny, delicious.
Pulled pork sliders. Meh. We ordered these last, so maybe I was just too stuffed. But it wasn’t really pulled as much as I thought it would be, and the seasoning was quite tame.
Ten 01
1001 NW Couch Street
Portland, OR 97209
Further Reading
Taqueria Don Pancho
2000 NE Alberta St
Portland, OR 97211
(503) 459-4247
In northeast Portland, there is a good taqueria called Taqueria Don Pancho.
As the name suggests, they have tacos. No carnitas, so a fish taco pinch hit to complete the taco triumvarite.
The menu.
Split shot of the garnish bar.
