Toast for Breakfast

I need something quick for breakfast. A chore is calling me away from my computer, out into the day, and it strikes me that I haven't had anything to eat. Never mind that I'm meeting a friend for lunch in a little over an hour.

Yogurt? Not in the mood. Had eggs yesterday, and they'd take too long. Out of granola (make a note to pick up supplies for the next batch).

Toast will do, since there's nearly always a loaf of Dave's sourdough sitting on the counter cut-side down, its flavor deepening and its crust thickening, requiring some work to slice but giving it a lovely crunch when toasted.

The toasting is tricky, too, since long slices from the center of the loaf need to be halved and stood upright to fit into our old toaster, but today's is just the right length to slip in whole. It requires two punches of the toaster's knob to get the right ratio of browning, since we've neglected to adjust the timer to our requirements, though a full two cycles starts to burn the edges so I have to remember to pop it up just before the second cycle is complete.

Like I said, tricky.

Get out a plate, pull the butter from the cupboard and a knife from the drawer, slather the warm slice with enough butter to cover it, trying to avoid the inevitable airholes that will drip butter on my keyboard, the counter, the dogs who are lying at my feet eagerly hoping for just such an event. Being out of Ayers Creek jam (another note to pick some up soon) I rummage for honey in the pantry and drizzle the amber liquid, then sit down with the last half mug of coffee from the pot.

Crunching ensues, and I even remember to save a couple of bits of crust for the dogs, still waiting hopefully below me.

Anatomy of a Bad-Ass

You'd never meet Donald Kotler and think, "Wow…what a badass!" And indeed, he is not.

This native of Long Island, New York, is smart, funny and articulate. He started his first restaurant, Toast, on a sketchy corner of deep Southeast Portland, moving into what had been a classy joint called Angie's Bad Ass Video.

Donald embraced its former badness with a vengeance, naming several dishes after video titles or even Angie herself. None is more emblematic than the most popular item on the menu, the Bad Ass Sandwich, a pile-on of two fried eggs, bacon, goat cheese and field greens between two slabs of toast. (All the breads here, including their justifiably famous English muffins, are made on premises.) It's served with Toast's signature take on hash browns called a potato rosti, a buttery round of thickly grated, locally sourced potatoes grilled to golden, crispy perfection—and well worth ordering as a side with any of their other dishes.

There's a weekly celebration, appropriately designated Bad Ass Wednesdays, where you can get all the goodness mentioned above for only $5, an astonishing deal considering the local goodness that goes into it: Stiebrs Farms eggs, Sweet Briar Farms pork belly, Cypress Grove Chevre,  Purple Rain Vineyard greens and that housemade toast made with grains from Bob's Red Mill. Add on a Bloody Mary concocted from Donald's secret Mary mix for only $5 and you've got yourself a memorable morning.

Details: Bad Ass Wednesdays at Toast, now through Dec. 19th. 5222 SE 52nd Ave. 503-774-1020.

Unlisted But Not Unloved

I get it, of course. A limited list, a plethora of possible picks. Endless opportunities for debate, nitpicking and what-ifs.

But really, I'm a bit bewildered by the some of the restaurants left off the list of "100 Favorites" in the Oregonian's Diner 2011 section published yesterday. So rather than quibble or fuss, I'm doing an addendum (listed in no particular order) you can carry on your smart phone, with links to the full posts. Feel free to add your own favorites in the comments below!

Toast

Donald Kotler's jewel box on Southeast Steele would win a blue ribbon at the state fair if such a prize existed for a whole café. Housemade everything, from the cured pork belly to the jams to the English muffins, with much of its produce sourced from urban farms within a mile of its location. Renowned for a way with brunch and breakfast, dinner is a too-well-kept secret. Should have been in the "Real Deals," "Breakfasts of Champions" or "Farm to Table" sections. Links here and here.
Details: Toast, 5222 SE 52nd Ave. 503-774-1020.

Spints Alehouse

Just written up last week in a rave where I admit to a schoolgirl crush. With great beers, intriguing spirits and spectacular food, Alyssa Gregg (top photo) has opened the tavern of my dreams. I only wish I'd discovered it earlier. Should have been in the "Pour It On" section. Link to post here.
Details: Spints Alehouse, 401 NE 28th Ave. 503-847-2534.

Lucca

Anyone who lives in the vicinity of Northeast Fremont knows about this quiet resident of the Irvington neighborhood. Solid is the descriptor of choice, whether it's their wood oven-prepared food, cocktail list or pasta choices. Our go-to for those "I don't feel like cooking" nights or "How about pizza?" occasions, they're open for lunch and dinner both. Should have been in the "Everyday Excellence" section. Links here and here.
Details: Lucca, 3449 NE 24th Ave. Phone 503-287-7372.

Yuzu

If only my son had built that transporter (à la Star Trek) that he was obsessed with in his youth, I would spend a lot more time in this hidden gem at the far end of Beaverton-Hillsdale Highway. Looking as if it was a holodeck recreation of a Ginza district yakuza, this place has wowed me every time. Should have been in the "Outer Eats" or "Hideaways" section. Links here and here.
Details: Yuzu, 4130 SW 117th Ave., Beaverton. Phone 503-350-1801.

The Restaurant of My Dreams

Describing your ideal restaurant is like listing the characteristics you look for in the ideal mate—it's entirely subjective. Tall and thin? Or perhaps you prefer someone a bit more, as my son described me once, "comfy." A serious-minded business type? A whimsical creative?

I've been in places that declare their bona fides in leather-bound menus, tuxedo-clad waiters and sparkling silver; in the aura of exclusivity emanating from the clothes on the guests and the upholstery on the seats.

Though it no doubt speaks volumes about me that I prefer homier surroundings, with the buzz of conversation (not too loud) and the clinking of glasses, the bustle of waiters, the smells of the night's specials flowing from the kitchen and wafting from plates as they pass by.

Epi's just outside Boise felt right the moment I walked in the door, as did Ariana in Bend, Lark in Seattle and Fore Street in Portland, Maine. Our own city boasts a bunch, from Bread & Ink and 3 Doors Down on Hawthorne to Tabla and Navarre on 28th. Toast, Bar Avignon, Lucca, Ned Ludd…they're all comfortable and unpretentious, and the food is locally sourced, well-made and even reasonably priced. Even better, they're staffed by passionate local folks who not only love good food and drink, but are committed to making their communities better places to live (and eat). Imagine that!

To that list I'd add St. Jack, a newcomer to the busy restaurant row clustered around Southeast 21st and Division. A patisserie and coffee bar from morning till midafternoon, the action cranks up in the bar with a hopping happy hour that starts at 4 pm. (Why don't more places open then?) The bar manager is an earnest-looking fellow, Kyle Webster, who's serious about his cocktails, stirring mean classics with a a "no froo-froo" rule stressing fresh squeezed juices, well-chosen liquors and well-balanced flavors. I'm saying it here if it hasn't been said before: this is a guy who's going places.

Yet another of Kurt Huffman's Chefstable projects, the ambience is much less the design-y, tony aesthetic reflected in their other projects like Ping and Grüner, and more a personal statement that fits easily into the funky, laid-back atmo of the neighborhood.

The menu put forth by Chef Aaron Barnett is where rustic French cuisine crosses Northwest ingredients, with a heavy emphasis on traditional preparations. Which means you'll find not only excellent pommes frites, but a poached egg-topped rich onion tart (left), a version of tripe that was a little wiener schnitzel-ish for me and, yes, even frog legs cooked in wine and lemon.

Aside from the crispy, salty, get-them-away-from-me-because-I-can't-stop-eating-them frites and aioli and that onion tart, on both recent trips we also ordered the petit salé (top photo), a lusciously braised pork belly astride perfectly tender green lentils along with a big, marrow-filled bone. The little spoon plunged into it made it easy to scoop out the marrow and smear it on a bit of baguette, and it made me feel like I was sitting in a bistro in Paris.

The whole roasted trout (right) I had one night was a stand-out, drizzled with a brown butter vinaigrette and capers draped over the delicious but a-little-too-ubiquitous lentils. The "gratin de macaroni," a Frenchified name for good ol' mac'n'cheese with gruyere, aged cheddar, Rogue blue and bacon was a creamy delight I could easily develop a serious crush on. The dish I didn't have but will next time and, believe me, there will be a next time, is the boudin noir, a housemade blood sausage with roasted apple and mustard.

Desserts are also trés Français, with pastry chef Alissa Rozos light hand evident in the apple tarte tatin with fromage blanc ice cream and an airy lemon crème chiboust with tarragon-infused grapefruit slices.

Joel Gunderson's wine list, while not inexpensive by the bottle, has a goodly number of French and Northwest wines available by the glass and, interestingly, also available directly from barrels in 46-oz. Pôts Lyonnais, traditional 46cl bottles imported from Lyon. Cool!

Look for the glowing globe over the bright yellow door on the corner and be prepared to feel right at home, whether you're with your ideal mate or not.

 Details: St. Jack, 2039 SE Clinton. 503-360-1281.

Wet and Wild

My friend Donald Kotler loves to grow vegetables for his café, Toast, in southeast Portland. What he can't grow himself, he'll sometimes contract with local farmers to grow for him or buy from farmers directly.

He's also a forager extraordinaire, and when he mentioned going out to hunt down some wily late-season chanterelles, it was all I could do not to drop to my knees and plead to go along. And, a couple of weeks later, head out we did on what turned out to be a drenchingly wet November day, with temperatures plummeting into the mid-40s.

One of the rosy-pink mystery mushrooms.

Since most of his favorite spots are three to four hours away and we both had to get back to town by mid-afternoon, Donald decided to head up the Gorge on the Washington side and see if we could find some likely locations. Turning off the highway past Camas, we drove up a forest road, pulling off to investigate a couple of spots that Donald said "didn't feel right" and then eventually parking at a gated side road that looked like it hadn't had much traffic of late.

Another mystery mushroom.

Mushroom hunting is akin to other types of hunting in that you basically charge off into the underbrush, over fallen trees and through thickets. The best places don't feature groomed trails or signage ("Mushroom picking 100 yards ahead" signs are rare), and you have to be prepared to climb steep hillsides, slide down muddy embankments or bushwhack your way through the underbrush that grows up out of the Doug fir duff where you'll find your prey.

The other key, particularly if you're like me and your sense of direction goes out the proverbial window when you're in the woods, is to go with someone who possesses an unerring sense of direction, i.e. who knows where they left the car. The only other gear required is a bag for your booty, should you find any, and a pocket knife for cutting the mushrooms, rather than yanking them up and potentially damaging the root that will sprout new mushrooms. An experienced guide with a well-thumbed guidebook is also valuable.

The haul, cleaned and drying out a bit.

We began on one side of the road and found several kinds of mushrooms, some small and brown (Donald calls them LBMs for Little Brown Mushrooms), others amber-colored and some with a rosey pink glow on top and white gills underneath. Like the other trips I've made to hunt fungi, at first I find myself overwhelmed by the sheer complexity of what I'm looking at, with fallen leaves, moss, fir needles and shrubbery competing for my attention. But then I'll see one mushroom, then a few more, and eventually I'm able to pick out the ones I want from the visual noise of the forest floor.

After crossing the road, we came on several patches of chanterelles that were, like us by this point, a bit soggy from the rain. But the thrill of finding first one, then another, then a few together was thrilling enough to keep us looking until we had four or so pounds between us, at which point we reluctantly agreed it was time to head back. I'm just hoping I'll remember where it was when the season rolls around next year, but even if I can't I'll know better where to look if I stumble across a place that, in Donald's words, feels right.

Find directions on how to roast mushrooms for freezing or use in other recipes like Wild Mushrooms with Pasta and White Wine Sauce, Mushroom Risotto with Truffle Shavings, Springwater Farm Cream of Mushroom Soup and Mushroom Quiche.

Toast for Dinner

Distance is a funny thing. Portlanders talk about how close they are to some of the best ski slopes in the country (45 minutes), great fishing holes (as little as half an hour) and miles of open beaches (90 minutes). There's also windsurfing (less than an hour), hiking (google "columbia gorge hiking") and biking (can you say "Mt. Tabor"?).

Ambrosial beet salad.

And they'll travel a fair distance for good food, too. The Country Cat in Montavilla draws folks from all over Portland, as does Syun Izakaya in Hillsboro. But there's an area south of Foster Road and below 82nd Avenue that's akin to the Bermuda Triangle in people's minds. Suggest dinner at Toast on 52nd and Steele and they'll act like you just said, "Let's drive to Indianapolis for a bite."

But I'm telling you, if you can get them in the car and work it so you don't slow down too much at signals, get there one evening soon. I convinced a fortunately open-minded friend to meet me there last week and had a mind-blowingly great, and very moderately priced, meal. Greeted by a tiny amuse-bouche of baby radish rounds and sprigs of miniature arugula, it set the tone for the rest of the meal.

Seared gnocchi with raab.

Owner Donald Kotler sources most of his ingredients from local suppliers like Zenger Farm, Sauvie Island Organics and Cattail Creek, among many others, and supplements with produce from his own garden. Which means that, along with those introductory babies, you're likely to find other tender young things like various incarnations of raab, greens and beets. The night we were there Donald was getting excited about featuring purslane and salsify that are being grown for the restaurant. (Look for those on most menus in town.)

Our meal started with a shared bowl of green pea and mint soup, finished with a dollop of creme fraiche, a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkling of chives. It arrived, a startling green in a white china bowl and with a bisque-like smoothness. A perfect blend of two ingredients, neither pea nor mint predominated and much mmmmm-ing and ooooooo-ing was heard.

Pork medallions with greens and polenta.

After debating the social cost of licking the bowl, eventually (and reluctantly) deciding it might not be prudent even if it would have been worth getting that last tiny taste, we were saved from ostracism by the arrival of a beet salad in what could only be called an ambrosial honey-mustard dressing mixed with slices of tart apple, more tiny greens and crushed toasted walnuts. And if you were a careful observer, toward the end you may have seen a finger slide through the smear of dressing remaining. But we tried really hard to be nonchalant about it.

Corn cake with cream and syrup.

Mains were similarly awesome, my gnocchi seared and served with sautéed wild mushrooms (winter chanterelles and hedgehogs, if I'm not mistaken) and tiny raab. And unlike many kitchens that seem to think that searing disguises the heaviness of their gnocchi, these retained that light texture that marks a knowing hand. And my friend's pork medallions, gently pink in the center and meltingly delicious, were served over fried polenta with sautéed chard and golden raisins, a magical combo I'll be trying here at home.

For dessert we went with a simple Italian corn cake, its humble cookie-like shape sitting in a puddle of sweet cream and a citrus syrup reduction, looking like a skirted young lady sitting on a white pillow. With a cup of freshly made decaffeinated coffee, it was the perfect grace note to a fantastic evening. And yes, there may have been a finger or two sliding across the plate to get the last of that amazing syrup. Surreptitiously, of course.

Details: Toast, 5222 SE 52nd Ave. 503-774-1020.

Livin' in the Blurbs: It's All About Giving

There is nothing I love better than helping others by helping myself. And the folks at Zenger Farm are giving all of us a chance to feel really good with their Spring for Zenger benefit. And all it takes is doing what you do this time of year anyway, which is eating out and buying plants. I'm telling you, with participating restaurants like Nostrana, Ned Ludd, Biwa, Toast, Laughing Planet, Pine State Biscuits and Tastebud (at its PSU farmers' market stall), you can't lose! And there just aren't better garden stores than Pistils, Portland Nursery, Naomi's Organic Garden Supply and Concentrates. Each is donating a portion of the proceeds from their sales on a particular day to the education work that Zenger Farm does in the community, so check the website for days and times.

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Are you like everyone else I know and dreaming about fresh eggs collected from your very own chickens? Well, if you're still in the "thinking about it" stage, then put the 2010 Tour de Coops on your calendar and get ready to drool over some of the grooviest backyard chicken coops in the city. It's a benefit for the worthy programs at Growing Gardens, it's happening on Saturday, July 24, and it'll include a raffle of many delightful chicken-related prizes, one of which will be a chicken coop designed by The Garden Coop. And if you or someone you know would like to donate an item to the raffle, I'm sure they'd love to know!

Details: 2010 Tour de Coops, a self guided tour of 25 coops on Portland's east side. Sat., July 24, 11 am-3 pm; $10 for tour booklet, raffle tickets $5 ea or 3 for $10 (check website for purchasing details). Info phone 503-284-8420.

* * *

Very few restaurants in the Portland area are more dedicated to fresh, seasonal ingredients than Toast's owner Donald Kotler. He not only grows a fair of the produce served in the café himself, but he has longstanding relationships with dozens of farmers in the area. And on Mondays in March from 8 am till 2 pm you can get that great food for 10% off the regular price, and he's crazy enough to allow that discount to be combined with other offers like the one found in the Chinook Book. And not only that, but on Friday, Mar. 19, Toast will be participating in the benefit for Zenger Farm (see above) by donating 25% of all sales made that day, more than any other participating restaurant. Like I said, dedicated!

Details: Toast, 5222 SE 52nd Ave. Open for breakfast and lunch Wed.-Mon., 8 am-2 pm; and dinner Wed.-Fri., 5:30-9 pm. Phone 503-774-1020.

Toast on Every Corner!

In his usual incisive way, my brother said it best. "There should be a place like this in every neighborhood."

We were halfway through our dinner at Toast, and he was not only remarking on the quality of the food, which had thus far been outstanding, but also on the noisy intimacy of a place where people come to have a good time and eat well, whether they're celebrating a special occasion or just enjoying being together.

The room itself is a simple box containing an open kitchen and a counter lined with stools, with tables along one wall that might hold 30 people in a pinch. And the ingredients are the same seasonal greens and locally raised meats that can be found at many higher-end restaurants in town.

But those ingredients are treated with a light, understated touch by chef Jonathan Staehr, and it's their bright, fresh flavors that are the stars of the evening, not him. And prices are moderate by any standard, with nothing topping $20 and with most under $15, a bargain considering what you'd pay in other places.

For instance, our starter of a pea salad with baby green beans, pea shoots and speck (above left) was a gorgeous crunchy pile of greenness that tasted like spring. And the clams with white wine, garlic, chorizo and a nettle purée (right) was a hefty explosion of flavor that, at the same time, let the delicate flavor of the Manila clams stand out. And I don't need to tell you we sopped up all the broth we could before letting the dish leave the table.

Dave's pork loin (top photo) was juicy and succulent, with a perfect crust on the outside and just the right pinkness inside, the thick slices sitting on a bed of hearty greens dressed with vinaigrette and fried capers, one of my new favorite ways to serve meat. The house burger (left) was my brother's choice, made from ground hanger steak that makes the patty light and full of flavor. It was amusingly perched between two thick slices of toasted house-baked bread, which have a light texture that holds up to the burger's juiciness and don't fall apart halfway through (a pet peeve, can you tell?). Oh, and if you're a devotée of my brother's blog, this burger has now rocketed to second place on his very tough list of the best in town.

My gnocchi with morels, asparagus and fresh herbs (right) was terrific, the gnocchi seared on the outside but still tender inside so that the meaty texture of the morels had something to bounce off of, the asparagus giving a lightness (there's that word again) to the whole dish.
Dessert was a small scoop of housemade fresh strawberry ice cream with macerated strawberries and two little pound cakes all sprinkled with powdered sugar and drizzled with strawberry syrup, a delight on all counts and perfect for sharing. Especially when owner Donald Kotler brought over two little snifters of Clear Creek Grappa to wash it all down.

So until Donald and Jonathan clone themselves, I guess we'll be driving over to 52nd and Steele more often. Because even if it's not in our neighborhood, it sure feels like home.

Details: Toast, 5222 SE 52nd Ave. Phone 503-774-1020. (Note: Toast will be closed for vacation the first week in July).

Fantasy Dinner: Toast?

I'm sure I've mentioned my recurring fantasy before. Not the one about Prince Charming riding up on his horse and sweeping me off my feet. Not even the one from junior high that had Mr. Spock beaming down and carrying me away to the Enterprise where he'd cock his eyebrow and murmur "Fascinating!" in my ear. I've got my prince right here, and no horse poo to clean up. And I'm sure Spock's Vulcan half wouldn't be too crazy about cleaning out the dishwasher or picking up after the dogs.

No, this fantasy has to do with the seemingly endless chore of making dinner. In my fantasy, it magically appears on the doorstep, piping hot and delicious. Or someone rings the doorbell and announces, "We just dropped by to kidnap you and take you to dinner."

And then, the other evening, it happened. My friend Lindsey phoned to say that Donald Kotler, owner of the charming Toast in the Woodstock neighborhood, had called and said that someone canceled their reservations for a private dinner and would she and I like to take their places. Before she had finished saying the guest chefs were Jameson Maspaitella of The Farm Café and Jason Tom from a Cena, I was knocking on her front door.

We arrived just in time to sit down at what were now our places (thank you, whoever you were!) to a tiny liqueur cup of piping hot apple, celery root and fennel soup (left, above) and a glass of the butteriest pinot gris I've ever tasted. The pureed soup was smooth and comforting, and the smallest sprinkle of bacon crumbles added a nice crunch. The gris, from Mt. Baker Vineyards, was the chilled counterpoint to this course and the next, a trio of spreads (an olive tapenade, a baba ganoush and a trout rillette) with a sweet-and-sour pickled fennel compote (right) served with cracker-like flatbread shards.

Next up was a small endive and mache salad (left) dressed with a refreshing yogurt vinaigrette and garnished with segments of tangerine, pink grapefruit and a shower of candied walnuts. Having dispensed with the last of the pinot gris, an '03 Ridge Crest Syrah was poured with the raclette cheese melted over roasted root vegetables. It was also the choice for the pasta course of handmade pappardelle with braised lamb shank, cipollini, shaved brussels sprouts and little chunks of chevre (right, below).

And, yes, I was feeling like this fantasy dinner was working out pretty darn well to this point and no one had better try to wake me up just yet. This was a standout, with the pasta perfectly al dente and the shanks fall-apart tender.

I was ready to call it a night, knowing there was probably a dessert yet to come, when Donald started carrying out platters of sliced, roasted pork loin on a bed of sautéed kale along with sauce boats of bernaise (left), a totally, insanely delicious capper to an already over-the-top dinner.

When the dessert, a blessedly petite vanilla panna cotta with blood orange marmalade, a fennel seed and sea salt shortbread cookie and a shot of madeira (top), were brought out I was practically comatose from the incredible combination of amazing flavors. But a cup of coffee made it possible to rise from my seat and make my way home, this particular fantasy having been a very real treat.

Toast for Dinner

In a previous post about Toast, a new breakfast and lunch place in town that's now serving dinners four nights a week, I mentioned I'd heard good things about that new evening effort. After hearing more good things, it was get over and try it or risk standing there with my mouth open and no words coming out the next time the subject came up.

Located in the former home of Angie's Bad Ass Video (yes, I know, "badass" is supposed to be one word, but porn shop owners aren't generally known for their literary abilities), you could say that the descriptor is still applicable because this place has got some seriously badass chops, that is to say they've got some "formidable strength or skill," in the kitchen.
We started with the brand-new-to-the-menu smoked trout appetizer, tender flaked chunks tucked between thin slices of apple and potato with a sprinkling of fresh tarragon, surrounded by a light horseradish vinaigrette. To say this is close to the perfect appetizer is not mere hyperbole. With the slight zing of horseradish and the sweet crunch of the apple complementing the smokiness of the trout, my mouth was about as happy as it could get.
We also had the soup du jour, a creamy squash number that had the perfect balance of squashy flavor and smooth, silky texture. It would have been a bit better if they'd taken a page from the soups served at Café Castagna and left out all but one of the light, buttery croutons, but that's a minor quibble when soup is this good. And, as a beet-lover, the golden beet salad with golden raisins, walnuts and frisee tossed in a banyuls vinaigrette was delightful and even Dave, who's not a big beet guy, said it was the best he'd had (which means maybe now we can have more at home!).
A round of rock, paper, scissors was required to determine who would get the pork shoulder with kale on a bed pf polenta and who would get the oxtail au jus on spaetzle, but fortunately no one was the loser on either count (sorry about the fuzzy picture but I couldn't wait to dig in!). The shredded oxtail was incredibly tender and juicy with a deep beefy flavor only enhanced by the stock reduction poured over it, and the spaetzle was a nice departure from mashers. And the sweetness of the braised-to-the-point-of-falling-apart pork shoulder was terrific with the wilted kale.

The '06 Nelms Road Cabernet I ordered was perfect with the oxtail, and Dave opted for a pint of the darkly seductive Ninkasi Otis with his pork shoulder and, since he wasn't going to be having dessert, he followed that up with a pint of Clinton Street Brewing's IPA. What's impressive is that both are quirky choices and excellent brews, a sure sign that these guys not only know what they're doing but what they like.
Though we really shouldn't have, we opted to order the brownie with homemade maple ice cream and a nut crisp slicing into it, and needless to say it was completely over-the-top delicious.

Prices are in the moderate range, but the food is top-flight and deserves a devoted following. All I can say is, "Sign me up!"

Details: Toast, 5222 SE 52nd Ave. at Steele. Dinner, Wed.-Sat., 5:30-9:00 pm. Phone 503-774-1020.

They're Toast!

There are times when I get home from my thrice-weekly workout and I'm ravenous. So when Kristin suggested following up last Friday's class with a trip to nearby (and newly opened) Toast, I couldn't say yes fast enough. Located in a former adult video store called Angie's Bad Ass Video, they've opted to honor (if that's the right word) the previous occupant with menu items like The Occasional Hedonist, a sweet onion tart topped with a poached egg, fresh herbs, and béarnaise sauce, and the Bad Ass Sandwich, consisting of fried eggs, cured pork and shaved Gouda on toast.

The rest of the menu is written in a similarly witty manner, as is the cocktail menu. And it all fits in with the happy theme of the tiny dining room that is dotted with formal portraits of toasters. This place, while modern in a cool, retro sort of way, is really a throwback to neighborhood cafés of yore, with everything, including English muffins and three kinds of bread, made on the premises with organic ingredients used when available.

We opted to have brunch, me with the Benedict Oh (I believe I mentioned my weakness for poached eggs?), perfectly poached eggs served over wilted chard on one of those impeccable English muffins, finished with béarnaise sauce with two little house-made sausage patties alongside. Though Ms. K and I had to arm-wrestle over who got to order the Golden Pig, two strips of unctuous, fatty pork belly with scrambled eggs, topped with crispy shallots on a slice of toast. Obviously I still have work to do on my arm strength. (Curses!)

In addition to the brunch menu, Toast also serves dinner, which I've heard some good comments about. And with a little number like Angie's Dirty Martini to kick off the meal, it might turn out to be a very interesting evening, indeed.

Details: Toast, 5222 SE 52nd Ave. Hours: Brunch, Wed.-Sun., 8 am-2 pm; Dinner, Wed.-Sat., 5:30-9:30 pm. Phone 503-774-1020.