St. Jack
Francomania in Southeast
St. Jack opened last winter as SE Clinton Street’s answer to Lyon’s bouchons—those jolly, cramped, offal-loving dens of informality where local wine flows all day and Portland’s porky excesses, by comparison, look blessed by the surgeon general. It turned out better than anyone expected, emerging as the year’s most-talked-about restaurant, an essential hangout where everyone found something to love: adventure, passion, coziness, made-to-order madeleines, lip-smacking cocktails, and a menu with enough rich, rustic lyonnaise offerings to test the mettle of Portland’s most adventuresome diners. That means bubbled-over crocks of macaroni pounded with bacon lardons; flirty drinks shaken at a bar lit by monuments of melted wax; and irresistible microbaked treats, from powerhouse éclairs to perfect chocolate sable cookies, posing under swooping glass domes in an Amélie-cute pâtisserie. In this welcoming retreat, St. Jack embodies Portland’s food scene in a single bite: comfort, craft, and open to anyone. 2039 SE Clinton St; stjackpdx.com
Eat: Chicken liver mousse, butter lettuce salad, frog’s legs, boudin noir with roasted apples and pommes purée, chocolate pastis pot de crème
St. Jack emerged as the year’s most-talked−about restaurant, an essential hangout where everyone found something to love.
Little Bird
Downtown’s high-flying destination
As chefs across the US cooked up a homey French revival this year, returning more to the bone than the brain, Little Bird claimed its turf: the sexy bistro with a side of Northwest noir. Taxidermied birds perch near tush-friendly booths, and authoritative wine glasses (to match a smart Francophile list) arrive alongside roasted marrow bones that look on loan from the Smithsonian. Familiar comforts like crêpes and duck confit ride to the table like renegade art installations. Even the burger struts out, with an elegant bistro knife plunged through the heart of its ciabatta bun. It’s the destination of the year, as imagined by Le Pigeon’s Gabriel Rucker, a master of culinary send-ups. Rucker’s longtime aide-de-camp, chef Erik Van Kley, has the keys to the car on most nights, and he’s finding voice in the likes of oxtail terrine, a carnal fantasy dressed in dark burgundy onion jam. Not everything soars at Little Bird, especially service, but any place that appeals to your bandmates and your power-broker parents is doing something exciting. 219 SW Sixth Ave; littlebirdbistro.com
Eat: Charcuterie plate, potted duck liver, roasted chicken with pickled peppers, daily fish specials, grilled flatiron steak, ice cream sampler
Castagna
Modernism’s rising star
The recipe for the best dessert of the year: a crazy salad of herbs, a few science moves, and chef Justin Woodward’s bold imagination. Creamy, quietly floral tonka bean ice cream danced with tufts of brown butter cake so shockingly light they almost levitated off the plate. On top, a cocoa-colored tube cracked open and gushed a rich, hot, chocolate-hazelnut liquid over everything, including the fragrant surprise of tarragon, bergamot, mint, and lemon verbena leaves, so that each bite was charged by a different experience. It was a modernist plate three days in the making, and a signal of yet another exciting chapter at Castagna: food steeped in botanicals but grounded in the familiar. Portland’s most risk-taking restaurant has played host to a sequence of respected chefs—most recently, avant-garde forager Matt Lightner, who grabbed headlines—and then a major restaurant deal in New York. Now Woodward, formerly Lightner’s right-hand man, who earned his pastry creds at Manhattan’s famed experimental lab WD-50, is taking his place at the table with impressive technique and dramatic designs. Woodward is still finding his way, but his best dishes signal a young artist in bloom. At $65 for four courses, led by a procession of snacks, a dinner at Castagna is an extraordinary deal. Eat it while you can. 1752 SE Hawthorne Blvd; castagnarestaurant.com
Eat: Harvest composition (30 herbs and vegetables with a dressing of pickled fennel bud and smoked bone marrow); smoked pork; lamb collar with a salad of roots, stems, and sprouts; tonka bean ice cream and brown butter cake
Woodward is still finding his way at Castagna, but his best dishes signal an artist in bloom.
Salt & Straw
Ice cream with an edge
Portland ice cream shops usually open with optimism, then quickly melt into soup stands. The new Salt & Straw has not been tested by Oregon’s 10-month winter, but judging by late-summer lines more typical of rock shows than ice cream shops all signs point to something more than a passing scoop. Cousins Kim and Tyler Malek tapped the local spirit of craft and collaboration, went their own flavor-crazy way, and are now challenging expectations of what an ice cream parlor might look like: a place that embraces both an iPad cash register and a vintage waffle iron that stamps out made-to-order cones. Each scoop is wildly different, bulging with luxurious texture, daring combinations, and an unmistakable taste of place, perfumed with Steven Smith’s Teas, a changing tap of local beers, Olympic Provisions meat, and chocolate “chips” from budding bean-to-bar stars Woodblock Chocolates. Limited-edition batches are in the works, like a holiday combo of fresh pecans, molasses, and celebratory shots of Oregon’s Stonebarn whiskey. How far will the Maleks push to redefine ice cream on our turf? Bone marrow–and–smoked cherry is already a hit. “I just have to get used to foie gras in ice cream,” says Kim. “Tyler says, ‘Get over it.’” 2035 NE Alberta St; saltandstraw.com
Eat: Homemade almond brittle with salted ganache, Stumptown single-origin coffee with local cocoa nibs, Li’l Smoky Sundae (sea salt and handmade caramel ice cream, slivers of fermented black garlic, whipped cream, burnt caramel sauce, and smoked bourbon cherry)
Wafu
Rock-’n’-roll ramen
Old Japanese cinema posters shoot, squint, and kick their way off a long wall that leads to samurai film icons, flickering through the door of the back room. Pals, daters, and bar hoppers perch on tall stools that line a seemingly never-ending bar, where cocktails arrive with lurid colors and hand-carved ice. The music is jacked to blistering levels, like a hot peppercorn in your ear. Handrolls are packaged with roasted crab, lamb tongue comes brazenly dunked in gin-spiked ponzu, and the pork-intensive ramen is richer than Paul Allen. Welcome to Portland’s rock-’n’-roll ramen spot, where the drinking is serious and the food is designed but decidedly playful. Does it all work? It’s too early to tell. (Smoked chicken schmaltz has already been yanked from the house noodle soup formula.) But last year, chef Trent Pierce proved to be one of Portland’s most electric talents at the short-lived Fin. Now Wafu, with its nicely curated whiskey flights and sake on tap, is already as spirited as a Miyazaki movie. 3113 SE Division St; wafupdx.com
Eat: Ceviche, cured saba with crystalized ginger, aburasoba (brothless ramen with pork belly, kimchi, fried egg)
Boyce is unleashing a fresh voice, mingling his feel for traditional rustic elegance with surprising little incursions into Korean and Japanese flavors.
Bluehour
A kitchen reborn
The marshmallowy furniture, the slim-chic bar, the chandeliers floating like otherworldly halos, the loading-dock tables lording over the Pearl District’s tribes of wandering tourists. Since 2000, Bluehour has stood as Portland’s iconic night on the town. But as the kitchen reveled in caviar parfaits, Portland’s food-first, pretense-last revolution passed it by. That’s what makes the late-summer arrival of chef Thomas Boyce so significant: Bluehour is back in the conversation. Boyce is a cook’s cook, fresh from the trenches of Wolfgang Puck’s Spago in LA, and he has the skills to, at last, make Bluehour a food destination, aided in part by the raiding of a private cellar to deepen the wine list. Bluehour cranks brunch, lunch, dinner, and late-night menus, and everything needs revisiting, including the service—but dinners are the priority for now. Boyce is already unleashing a fresh voice that mingles rustic elegance with surprising incursions into Korean and Japanese flavors. He knows his way around seafood, and his homemade pastas show the magic of simple perfection. No guarantees, but potentially, this could be the turnaround of the year.250 NW 13th Ave; bluehouronline.com
Eat: Crudo (raw fish), terrine of octopus, fromage blanc gnocchi with lamb sugo, braised veal cheeks, chocolate and confection platter
I have to agree with the first writer’s comment. Went to Happy Hour with a couple of friends and was very underwhelmed. Going to the HH area of the restaurant you have to traverse the restaurant. Bad design in my opinion. We were dressed pretty casually and the restaurant felt very elegant. I didn’t feel comfortable making the walk. It was also pretty empty but the HH bar area was full with only one table left which had no chairs. After a search the waitstaff was able to find 3 for our party. The table was at the edge of the dining room. It was in fact an invisible line that divided the 2. Shortly thereafter a party arrived for dinner and was seated right next to us, although the dining room was still practically empty. The waiter then pulled a curtain that divided the 2 sections of the dining room between our table and that of the new arrivals. It felt like when you’re on a plane and after take off the steward/stewardess closes the curtain between the coach and first class cabin. I was literally almost shoulder to shoulder with one of people at the other table with the curtain just separating us. The HH menu looked promising but when the food arrived it was just o.k. We ordered the burger, the lamb slider, the cuban sandwich and a couple of the fried oysters. I’ve had a better version of each. The best deal was a bottle of Cava for $20. If you want me to come back and pay the big bucks, you need to tantalize me with the small bites. And you need to make me feel comfortable. I looked around the dining room and it didn’t look like anyone was really having such a good time in there. And the waiters are forced to wear these bulldog clips, to hold up their aprons I guess, except you don’t need them because that’s what the ties are for. It was just forced to me. Like, “Hey, isn’t this cool. No one else wears bulldog clips as an apron accessory.” I really wanted to like this place. Bummer.
I only had eaten at Bluehour during happy hour, so maybe I’m not judging fairly, but from what I had I can tell is that with the arrival of a new chef happy hour menu changed for the worse. Gone is my favorite sea scallops with bacon and celery root, which I understand was a signature dish. Last time I ordered cuban sandwich, but got eggplant sandwich instead – nothing special…Regardless, I’m willing to go and try dinner items to see what chef Thomas Boyce’s praise is all about.
What a ridiculous oversight not including Natural Selection in the best new Portland restaurants list.
Aaron Woo’s inventive, modern, seasonal, technical, and delicious (!) cooking is a breath of fresh air for the local dining scene. That it happens to be vegetable-based is really beside the point.
Alba: We debated where to put Natural Selection … as a “best new restaurant” or in the selection that captured the best of an emerging trend of fine vegetarian/vegan eating. It’s a good problem to have!
We opted to place Natural Selection in the section called “Meat-Free Magnificence.” Have a look. From the review … “Chef Aaron Woo’s whimsical approach (includes) edible foraged flowers, swirls of colored sauces, artfully cut veggies, and unexpected mash-ups of sweet and savory and fresh ideas.”
Thanks for checking in. Karen Brooks
My previous comments are for the Little Bird restaurant. It certainly is not “the sexy bistro with a side of Northwest noir.”
High praise by local media is wildly overblown. Hole-in-the-wall ambience, run of the mill wine selections and barely acceptable french dishes are important, this may be the place for you. I will never go back there.
I completely agree with Anand about Little Bird. I found the hostess there unbelievably rude and the food was so-so. Definitely not a “best restaurant” selection in my opinion given all the fabulous choices in Portland.