Anniversary Extravaganza: Keepin' It in the 'Hood

Dave and I have been married a long time. A really long time. The single digits have stretched into double digits and the double digits are stretching into the mid-double digits. We tend not to make a big deal about the five and ten-year landmarks…none of the "we did Venice for our tenth and are planning Bali for our twentieth" stuff.

The bar at Expatriate.

This year was all about the neighborhood, an especially handy choice considering two very promising places had recently opened up within blocks of our house. Expatriate (left), a new bar owned by former St. Jack's behind-the-stick mastermind Kyle Webster and his wife, Iron Chef and Beast-mistress Naomi Pomeroy, is emerging as a contender on Portland's sizzling bar scene. Open just a couple of weeks, the bar-and-snacks-with-a-sandwich menu revolves around classic cocktails with Webster's signature twist and Pomeroy's exploration of Burmese (read: Asian-y) street foods.

Webster's signature spot-on cocktails.

We were there early and, while the vibe was congenial, we could tell that this place works best when daylight has faded and the back bar's gilded dragons can glow eerily in the flickering candlelight. The Chinese sausage corn dogs were gorgeously tasty but lacked the structural integrity to be able to stay on the stick for dunking in the mustard and sweet sauces provided. Our cocktails were spot-on, the service was friendly and efficient, and I'm planning on giving this place plenty of space to develop over the next few months.

The spectacular beef tartare.

Dinner was just a short jaunt away at Ben Meyer's new butcher shop-cum-restaurant Old Salt Marketplace. Think a rustic, everyday people's version of another Ben [Dyer's] Laurelhurst Market and you'll get the vibe. Opened in mid-May, we'd bought a few cuts of the grass-fed beef and house sausages to throw on the grill, finding them lusciously juicy and shockingly affordable.

Albacore loin and greens.

Taking a couple of seats at the bar, we ordered cocktails along with their beef tartare and bone marrow appetizers. That's when we got a hint about the portions here—they're not in the taste-of-this, bite-of-that category. They're more on the Fred Flintstone-opens-a-restaurant scale. The beef tartare was a dinner plate spread with a finely ground mesh of the freshest, ice-cold meat and minced shallots topped with a dollop of smoked paprika aioli and a scattering of purslane, with paper thin slices of toasted rye for scooping.

The marrow bones (top photo) arrived on their own platter, two bronto-sized leg bones roasted and crossed over leaves of heirloom greens and chopped tomatoes, some pickled, with "croutons" of the rich, buttery house buttermilk biscuits rambling about.

Beef, padrones, tomatoes.

Our entrées were similarly impressive: Dave's albacore loin was perfectly seared on the outside, warmly rare in the middle and served on a large bed of greens tossed with grilled, sliced peaches, plums and a generous smear of sauce. My choice of ribbon-like slices of tender beef and rib slices was a gorgeous pile accented with first-of-the-season charred padrone peppers and tomatoes in a beef jus.

Both were more than we could finish alone, each really enough for two, which makes me think we'll be returning to share plates unless the offerings sound too good not to have leftovers with eggs the next morning. And while Venice and Bali sound like great places to visit someday, I can't imagine the eating will be any better than what we found so very close to home.

Details:
Expatriate, 5424 NE 30th Ave. 503-805-3750.
Old Salt Marketplace, 5027 NE 42nd Ave. 971-255-0167. 

Tweetie Bird

It was like getting an invitation to a party at someone's home, someone you don't hang with regularly and where you don't know most of the other folks coming. Should I dress up? Heels? Makeup? (As if…) I suppose I could have checked with my pal Peter, but he's always a pretty dapper guy, even if he's in jeans.

Baby turnips wrapped with anchovy.

At least those were the thoughts that bounced around in my head as I prepared to go to my first Tweet-Up. It was at Nostrana and involved dinner based on some classic recipes from James Beard, a man known for his appetite and humor, not so much for his fashion sense.

Added to that, since I don't have an iPhone (yet), was a little embarrassment about taking my laptop, which felt as out-of-date as a boombox. Fortunately a couple of other people were bringing theirs, so the worry about being labeled hopelessly out of date was lessened.

Chef Cathy Whims, a 2010 Beard nominee for Best Chef: Northwest, thought it would be fun to put on a series of dinners with the other Northwest nominees, and this first dinner was to be a collaboration with Naomi Pomeroy of Beast. It apparently took them about ten minutes to decide on the menu, and they chose to extend an invitation to local writers who post on Twitter, with the idea that we would tweet about the dinner and people could follow along remotely.

Asparagus with sauce verte.

In any case,  I arrived and was immediately given a choice of a Rob Roy (Dewars, sweet vermouth, bitters, up) or another Beard favorite, a gin fizz, this one made with Plymouth (the current house gin here at GSNW central), egg whites, lemon thyme bitters and sugar, served up. Moments later the freshly shaken drink was handed over, a promising start to the evening.

Shortly thereafter waiters carrying trays of tiny canapés…yes, canapés, not "small plates," not "snacks," not "bites," not "apps"…circulated, handing out the big guy's idea of pre-dinner teasers that would easily have qualified as a meal for most people, including Irma Rhode's onion sandwiches (little crustless squares of white bread spread with onion butter), Peggy's baby turnips wrapped with anchovy, shavings of roast lamb curled around mint butter, sardine canapés and, my personal favorite, fois gras-stuffed artichoke buds. Yum.

Hash with poached eggs.

Then came the "appetizer," really two vegetable courses, of peeled matchsticks of spring asparagus. One had a "sauce verte," a pesto of parsley, garlic, walnuts and tarragon, and the other was swathed in a blanket of green mayonnaise.

The wine served with them, an '08 Moscato Secco del Venet Vignalta "Sirio," wasn't the light and frizzante teaser I expected, but more like a sauv blanc, a little heavy for my taste. Much better was the '09 "Giovanni" Cameroni from local guy John Paul, with a spritely yet subtle zing that backed up the freshness of the asparagus and cut through the garlic and oil in the sauces.

The main course was an interesting but totally Beard-appropriate choice of a halibut cheek and clam hash on potatoes with two poached eggs. Smashingly delicious says it all.

Apple rhubarb charlotte with creme anglaise.

And dessert, another over-the-top success, was described as an "apple rhubarb charlotte with creme anglaise." Nothing like the heavy versions I've had before, but a light and airy cake with plenty of crunch, a foil for the tang of the rhubarb and richness of the creme anglaise.

Needless to say, after all that, I was ready to slurp down a decaf espresso and head home, more than satisfied and feeling a little like Cinderella heading back to her ashes. Oh, and the attire? Decided on nice casual, as usual, with a tiny bit of bling. Mr. Beard, I'm sure, would have approved.