Foie For All

It was definitely one of those foodie moments. I was going to meet a friend at her house in the Hawthorne area for a glass of wine and some noshing on the deck.

I was running just a bit early, so decided to stop at Pastaworks and pick up a bottle of rosé and snacky bits to share. As I walked in, I saw that Evoe, the restaurant associated with Pastaworks and that, to me, is the best place to eat in the city, was virtually empty. It was mid-afternoon on a gorgeous, unusually warm spring day, and the usual habitués were no doubt still out riding their bikes up to the top of Mt. Tabor or picnicking on the flanks of the extinct volcano.

Kevin Gibson, the genius chef and man behind the incredible food that is whipped up with merely a mandoline and an electric stove you might find in the kitchen of any neighborhood rental, was behind the counter messing with what looked like pale beige Play-doh.

Turns out he was making a batch of foie gras, that buttery gift from the gods that, in the hands of someone who knows his craft as well as Gibson does, is not unlike the stuff that surely must grace the tables in heaven. Flattening the pale lump of liver and butter, he sprinkled it with salt and a few drops of cognac, then folded it together and wrapped it tightly in cheesecloth.

A bucket of salt and spices stood nearby, and Gibson scooped out a few handfuls into a bowl to make room for the large sausage of foie that would be buried in it for a day or so. It all looked too easy for what is considered a delicacy among delicacies, but Gibson intimated it really was as simple as it looked.

A few days later I couldn't stand it any longer…visions of a pale glass of ice-cold rosé and plate of that foie were starting to block out any other thoughts. I managed to cadge my son into a trip over and, oh dear lord, it was so worth it. Its buttery, literally melt-in-your-mouth fattiness with a subtle saltiness was even better than I'd hoped. And if angels aren't satisfied with that, I'd be happy to take their portion.

Details: Evoe at Pastaworks, 3731 SE Hawthorne Blvd. 503-232-1010.

Mr. Gibson Will Serve You Now...

I've always thought that a personal chef was only for the rich and famous, the pompous or the puffed-up. Not that some nights it wouldn't be nice to have dinner all figured out, or a liveried butler proffering a cocktail on a silver platter.

But now, for lunch and afternoon snacks at least, you can have former Castagna chef Kevin Gibson preparing and serving his creations just for you at Pastaworks' new restaurant, Evoe. In the space vacated by Bar Pastiche, right next to the Hawthorne store, he'll be test-driving Pastaworks products, including fresh produce, on eager diners seated at the big butcher-block table across from the open prep area.

For lunch there was a large basket of pimientos de padron from Viridian Farms, which Mr. Gibson was happy to fry up as he prepped some of his legendary deviled eggs, which he topped with the thinnest of bacon slices that shattered like glass when I bit into the egg. (And for those of you who, like my dining partner K-, are not fans of deviled eggs, you'll be changing your mind when you try his. Believe me.)

Next up was a salad of glacier lettuce (again from Viridian Farms), peach and prosciutto. Glacier lettuce was something new to me, with its thick, almost succulent-like stems and leaves and fuzzy-looking (but not tasting) texture. The taste is of citrus, almost like sorrel, but when you bite into it there's an initial crisp crunch and then it melts away. (Interestingly, Google comes up with no hits. Does anyone have any guesses as to what it may be?)

We also tried the "pork and beans" and, in a typical Gibson twist, there was just a touch of molasses in the crust on the pork, but the beans were fresh shell beans and nothing like B&M. The rabbit rillette was superb, as well, with a nice brushing of fat, salt and pepper to top it off. Look for the meats and patés to be house-made in the near future, as Kevin's done already with the pickled products he serves.

The hours right now are from 11 till 6 Wednesday through Sunday, but expect those to expand as the menu and (I guarantee) the crowds develop.

Details: Evoe, 3731 SE Hawthorne Blvd. Phone 503-232-1010.