MIXing It Up, Pt. 2: Best Market Meals

This month's issue of MIX magazine is jam-packed with lists of don't-miss summer pleasures, from the 50 Best Summer Drinks to PDX's best ice cream scoops to sussing out the hot spots of Vancouver and McMinnville.

It's also got a list of the 10 best farmers' market meals, which is helpful if you're like me and the sight of all that great food (not to mention the aromas drifting over the aisles) makes your stomach growl. The best part of these market meals? Despite the fact that they're as good or better than you'll pay for in a sit-down restaurant, they won't make a big dent in your budget.

Outtakes from my contributions to the Big Ten:

• Ate-Oh-Ate: Ben Dyer's satellite version of his East Burnside restaurant features authentic Hawaiian-style grub like the Loco Moco (top photo), a pile o' pleasure with fried rice, a seared hamburger patty, shiitake mushroom gravy and two eggs over easy. Hollywood Farmers' Market.
• Bingo Sandwiches: Portlanders won't be surprised that King of Brine David Barber's BLT of the Week isn't your usual bacon sandwich. Look for market-fresh meats, veggies, Picklopolis Pickles and even an egg to make an appearance. Portland Farmers' Market at PSU.
• Domo Domo: Sidney Ayers (above left) brand new biz plan is to take over the world with a Japanese pancake called okonomiyaki. Plate-sized, its flour and egg batter's secret ingredient is grated nagaimo, a Japanese yam, and comes topped with bacon or veggies for just $6. Interstate Farmers' Market.
• Feastworks Sausage Sandwich: Ethan Bisagna, formerly head butcher at Clyde Common, and his lady-love, chef Ashley Brown, are deeply committed to each other and the quality of their homemade meats and sausages, which you can buy direct or eat on the spot in their sandwiches, including the Choripan, made with their Chistorra sausage wrapped in crusty French bread drizzled with chimichurri sauce. Sandwiches and meats at the NW Portland Farmers' Market and Woodstock Farmers' Market; meats only at the Beaverton Farmers' Market.
• Gloria's Secret Tamales: This outpost of Gloria Vargas' teeny Beaverton café offers her lighter-than-air tamales wrapped in the traditional Salvadoran banana leaves rather than corn husks. Filled with hearty chicken or pork, there's also a vegetarian version. All come with a salad of shaved cabbage and fruit and a kickin' salsa. Beaverton Farmers' Market.
• Thai Mama: Look for market-fresh curries, pad Thai, crab wontons and chicken satay flying out of Lisa Barber's market stand, but it's her legendary homemade egg rolls that make for long lines of salivating customers here. Choose from traditional pork or portabella mushroom and tofu. Montavilla Farmers' Market.
• Savory et Sweet Crêpes: The French came up with the original "wrap," and you can always find an eclectic yet solid variety on Chris Douglas' menu. Check out the Scary Good, softly scrambled eggs, bacon, blue cheese, avocado, tomatoes and spinach, or the Menagerie Plate, a sampler of delicious bites—usually nuts, cheese, fruit and a slice of bread slathered with hummus finished off with a mini sweet crêpe on the side. Lloyd Farmers' Market, Oregon City Farmers' Market and Hillsdale Farmers' Market.

Get the full text plus additional reviews of Tastebud, Verde Cocina and Enchanted Sun Breakfast Burritos in the current issue. Find the complete schedule of Portland-area farmers' markets with maps and links on the GoodStuffNW Oregon Farmers' Markets page.

Hidden Gem: Eastmoreland Market & Kitchen

You'd think, wouldn't you, that someone who writes about local food and the best places to find it would have a comprehensive list of suggestions when the subject of lunch comes up. But when I get asked that very question, my mind inevitably goes blank. Lunch? Uh…um…

It happened again just the other day when my friend Kathryn and I were wandering around in Eastmoreland and we were getting a bit peckish. Jade Teahouse, a personal favorite, was nearby in Sellwood, as was the cart pod on 13th across from the Sellwood library. Just as we were getting into the car to head in that direction, I remembered that somewhere, tucked away among the stately homes on the curving, tree-lined streets of this neighborhood, was a charming gourmet grocery-cum-café.

Called the Eastmoreland Market & Kitchen, I'd been there a couple of times just after they opened and this felt like the right time to return. Plus at this point we'd been talking about food options for some time and it was making us ravenous. Luckily the menu board was packed with options from a burgers and a tasty-sounding muffuletta to a grilled chicken sandwich and a pork belly special.

We ordered at the counter and, after admiring the meats and cheeses in the long case (which of course made us even hungrier) and the imported pastas, condiments and even my favorite Spanish flatbreads (hungrier still!), we chose a table in the front window and were relieved by the prompt arrival of our lunch.

My pork belly sandwich (top photo) was stacked with meaty slices of perfectly braised meat and pickled vegetables laid between halves of a crisp-crusted ciabatta roll, a sandwich that would give Ben Dyer's famed Laurelhurst Market sandwiches a run for their money. Kathryn's grilled chicken (right, above) with goat cheese and house chutney was no slouchy effort, either, and satisfied both our hunger and the feeling that, at least yet, I haven't quite lost it altogether.

Details: Eastmoreland Market & Kitchen, 3616 SE Knapp. 503-771-1186.

Ate Oh Ate? Man Oh Man!

The menu for a restaurant dedicated to the foods of my childhood would start with a list of appetizers that included large cheese balls rolled in walnuts with Triscuits alongside, a brick of cream cheese smothered in cocktail sauce and sprinkled with little pink shrimp (more Triscuits) and, of course, the crack…er…dips my mother made from sour cream mixed with instant French onion soup or canned clams.

The entrée list would lead off with tuna casserole à la Campbell's (bien sur!), then meander through Spanish rice, hamburger casserole (we called it goulash), chipped beef on white bread, hamburger tacos and fried-to-death pork chops. Desserts would come from a box (cakes, puddings) with the occasional made-from-scratch fruit crisp or ice cream topped with chocolate sauce and salted peanuts and called a Tin Roof.

You can thank your lucky stars that Ben Dyer came from much more interesting culinary roots when he decided to open a restaurant dedicated to the foods he remembered from a childhood spent in Hawaii. Add to that the high-quality ingredients he's become known for at ventures including Simpatica Dining Hall, Viande and Laurelhurst Market, and Ate Oh Ate…a pun on the area code for Hawaii…looks like a sure winner. Especially when you factor in that a plate full of food rarely runs over $10.

Though when my friend Ivy suggested going there for lunch I was a little hesitant, since the only Hawaiian food I'd had consisted of a large platter of white rice topped with cubed chicken breast that had been drowned in sweet teriyaki. But when our order arrived my fears evaporated like the rain after a tropical storm, the Lau Lau pork shoulder and house-cured salt cod steamed in taro leaves (left, above) achieving a miraculous melt-in-your-mouth quality. (Note: don't forget to eat the taro leaves…with a flavor similar to kale, they add a slightly bitter green note that brings out the sweetness of the pig.)

Even Dyer's side of macaroni salad was great, probably the best I've ever had of that much-maligned and rarely successful chestnut of barbecue and Hawaiian joints. The poke (pron. POH-kay) daily special of raw fish tossed with green onions, shoyu and ginger (top photo) was amazing, and the fire engine-red chile sauce on the cucumber kimchi (right) took me back to my college trip to Seoul.

So until I can arrange a trip to Hawaii to sample these island specials for myself, I'll rely on Ben to guide me through the finer points of his native land. And rest easy. Unlike Mr. Dyer I don't have any intention of recreating my childhood in restaurant form.

Details: Ate Oh Ate, 2454 E. Burnside St. 503-445-6101.

Not Just Another Meat Market

We could have had the alignment adjusted, the oil changed and our tire pressure checked, since our table was just about where the lift would have been. But it had been removed to make room for tables, chairs and an expansive open kitchen.

Salt cod fritters with aioli.

The bar on one end of the room, where the shop tools, belts and diagnostic machines had sat, still serves a healing purpose, since bartender Evan Zimmerman makes his own medicinal bitters, tonics and infusions to soothe the aches and pains (and nerves) of patrons. Unfortunately, though he has a reputation around town as a master of the craft, the drinks we ordered from the menu of specialty cocktails were underwhelming.

The heavenly foie.

Dave's chorizo margarita, which he ordered in honor of the evening's meaty theme, contained chorizo-spiced tequila, sours and agave nectar. While one could argue the wisdom of ordering a sausage-inflected cocktail, it was barely a decent margarita, suffering from a lack of citrus-y punch and a balance of sweetness. My N.S. Pimm's, made from Pimm's No. 1, ginger and cucumber soda, had an excess of cucumber flavor, and the ginger was so thick (though oddly not overpowering) it made the drink a muddy mess.

Teres Major with romesco.

But fear not, because the mechanics in the kitchen under the direction of master meat guy Ben Dyer know what they're doing with all things footed and finned. Our starter of house-cured salt cod fritters with aioli rivaled those at Toro Bravo, the browned and crunchy exterior giving way to a creamy, smooth center. The fritto misto of razor clams and squash blossoms was good, though the braised shortrib and mozzarella risotto fritters were curiously absent any short rib flavor. Our OMG moment, however, came from the foie gras torchon, a slice of the most buttery, creamy and heavenly foie I've ever had, augmented by a nearly unnecessary pistachio butter and fig mostarda.

The reuben.

The best part of the meal, as you may have already guessed, were the mains that included Dave's 12-hour smoked brisket (top photo), my Teres Major, a shoulder "tender" with romesco and Mr. B's reuben. The brisket, a bronto-sized hunk that covered most of the plate, was deeply smoky and lightly sauced and got a big two thumbs up from our house smoke-meister.

The shoulder was a perfectly cooked medium rare, as ordered, with a barely smoky romesco and a sprinkling of finishing salt that gave a nice brightness and crunch. The corned beef in the reuben, while really good, didn't reach the bar set by Kenny & Zuke's, Mr. B's standard for reubeny greatness. It wasn't helped by the overly tart house-made sauerkraut or the extreme greasiness that turned his plate into a grease pit. The fries that came with the sandwich, however, were terrific, especially when dipped in the aioli left from our apps.

The service at this new entry on the dining scene is attentive and experienced, even thought it's clear they're still working out the kinks. Word is that the sandwiches served during the day are fantastic, and the butcher shop is getting a reputation for its selection of unusual cuts of meat and more-than-fair pricing. Overall, it's still early days at the Market, and I'm excited to see how it develops as it finds its stride.

Details: Laurelhurst Market, 3155 E Burnside. Phone 503-206-3097 (restaurant), 503-206-3099 (butcher shop).

Man of Many Meats

Paté, from chunky peasant rillettes to smooth goose-liver, made of anything from venison to duck to pork, have always been high on my list of Delicious Things To Eat Any Time I Get The Chance. Spread on a hunky nut bread for breakfast with a slice of cheddar alongside? Yum. As a foie gras-like part of a multi-course French meal. Oui!

So it was with gusto that I lapped up the presentation by Ben Dyer, head honcho at Viande Meats & Sausage, the other night at Foster & Dobbs. Refreshingly candid and with a new lover's enthusiasm for his chosen profession, you can't help but admire a guy who says that one of the best things about his craft is that it uses all the leftover parts of a butchered animal.

A simple set-up on a long table, with a mixer and grinder attachment alongside a hot plate was all he needed to whip up a startling country pate of bacon, liver, pork and pistachios. It was all swaddled in a wrapper of caul fat, that looked for all the world like your grandmother's knitted shawl (right).

And he shared his "mother recipe" that can be endlessly fiddled with to create your very own pate. Plus he loves Julia Child, he said, "because all of her recipes work." A man after my own heart.