Travel Notes
by Corby Kummer
THE HIGH value that Portland puts on its architectural past is apparent in its hotels. Several old hotels in the middle of town have recently been restored to their previous splendor; the standout among them is the Heathman, the most central of all and done with exceptional style. Its lobby, elevators, and halls are paneled in eucalyptus, rosewood, and gumwood, and nothing in my room was displeasing to the eye. By the desk was an elegant mahogany Biedermeyer-style armchair; the mirrored closet doors were teak, in the style of shoji screens; the armoire was Ming-style mahogany, and even the minibar had a handsome mahogany case.
That minibar was the best-stocked I have ever seen. It included the makings of a quick and good meal: a can of Oregon hazelnuts; packets of alderwoodsmoked Oregon salmon and Oregon Tillamook sharp cheddar, with boxed flatbread to go with them; a plate of soft Oregon dried fruits, and homemade chocolate-covered hazelnut toffee. There was also a box of animal crackers. The drinks were similarly imaginative and local: Henry Weinhard’s beer, brewed in Portland; Thomas Kemper’s root beer, in an old-fashioned brown bottle, honey-sweetened and brewed in Poulsbo, Washington; several kinds of mineral water; and good fruit drinks and sodas. The staff was eager to please, and always available. I was impressed by a handwritten list of all the nearby health clubs, with evaluations of their exercise teachers, compiled by the concierge. Rooms are priced from $135 to $205, with lower weekend rates.
Of the other downtown renovated hotels, the Vintage Plaza is popular for its cozy feel, with a lobby where wine is served every evening by a fireplace. The inviting rooms are all decorated differently; some have skylights, and some are suites on two levels ($135—$195). The Governor has just reopened, and should be visited for its spectacular lobby, built in 1909 in a Wild West Arts and Crafts style with enormous sepia-toned murals showing scenes of the Lewis and Clark expedition. With its burly ironwork chandeliers and fat, squat club chairs, it looks like a Yosemite lodge. The rooms, which cost the same as or more than those in the Heathman, are no match for the lobby. I would stay at the Heathman and have drinks at the Governor.
Luckily, there is competition downtown not only among luxury hotels but also among inexpensive ones. Portlanders send their relatives to the Mallory, an old-fashioned family hotel with an ornate but not overbearing lobby. Families and local business people gather for breakfast in the big, comfortable dining room, where the waitresses all know you even if they’ve never laid eyes on you. The rooms are small, plain, furnished in 1950s style, and cheap: $50—$85 for rooms with queensize beds, and $85 for suites or rooms with king-size beds. Unfortunately, many smell of cigarette smoke.
On a budget, I would stay instead at the Mark Spencer, where each room has a kitchenette and a dining table, whether a “studio” ($39 or $52) or a “one-bedroom” ($69, many with foldout sofas in the living-dining room). The rooms are bigger and more inviting than those at the Mallory, as well as being cheaper, and a number are reserved for nonsmokers. The only drawbacks are that there is no restaurant and the surrounding blocks are not as safe for children as those near the Mallory. The hotel is, however, very near Powell’s City of Books, which covers a square block and itself draws many visitors to Portland.
POR TLAND’S revitalization has not resulted in the kind of restaurant culture that has taken hold in Seattle. Only one restaurant, Zefiro, would be a strong competitor anywhere in the country, and I initially resisted going there because it sounded like a pastiche of popular restaurants in other cities. In fact, two of Zefiro’s three partners worked at respected San Francisco restaurants (Square One and Zuni Cafe) and clearly have been influenced by their Mediterranean-style rustic menus —today’s restaurant cliché. The décor, with mustard stucco walls and a custombuilt copper-topped bar, is sleek and good-looking and would be at home in San Francisco or Los Angeles. So would the crowd in the Nob Hill neighborhood (an appropriate place for former San Franciscans), which has a wide variety of boutiques and a thriving pedestrian scene.
But if the restaurant reads like a trend, the food doesn’t taste like one. Christopher Israel, the chef, has learned from his San Francisco mentors how to take fresh food and get the most flavor from it. I had a soothing bowl of polenta, made of cornmeal stone-ground at a local mill, with so much flavor and texture that I was sure Israel had incorporated creamed corn (a common trick); Bruce Carey, another of the partners, who runs the dining room with notable polish, assured me that he had not. Israel successfully pairs local ingredients with Mediterranean flavors, as in, for example, grilled silver salmon wrapped in grape leaves, with a Catalan sauce of raisins, pine nuts, citrus, and mint. Zefiro makes its own bread with stoneground wheat, and I believe the Portlanders who told me that it’s the best in the city. The uncloying desserts are made by Monique Siu, the third partner. A grapefruit and Campari ice, served with superior homemade amaretti, is as refreshing as snow. A threecourse meal with wine from a long, well-chosen list is about $35 per person.
Two strictly Italian restaurants have recently been enthusiastically received: Perlina, where the chef is Giuliano Hazan, son of Marcella and Victor, and the menu is as classic as any fan of his parents’ books would expect; and Pazzo, an attractive but formulaic restaurant at the Vintage Plaza hotel.
I had high hopes for the Westmoreland Bistro, a storefront restaurant and wine shop in a neighborhood near Reed College, a fifteen-minute drive from downtown. Caprial Pence, a young chef who won great acclaim at Fuller’s, a stiflingly plush restaurant at the Seattle Sheraton, returned to her home town earlier this year with her husband, John, to open a much more modest place with a limited blackboard menu and Formica-topped tables. Unfortunately, when I visited, the service was slow and the food unmemorable. But I liked the concept: you scan shelves that line the walls for the wine you’ll drink, and because the restaurant is also licensed as a wine shop, you can buy other bottles or take home what you don’t drink at dinner. And I’ve had very good food cooked by Pence. Despite my meal, I would recommend the Westmoreland Bistro, for its low prices ($20—$25 per person) and because it is the only neighborhood restaurant in Portland owned by a nationally known chef.
Most visitors to a port city want a fish house. The usual stop is Jake’s Famous Crawfish, a rambling century-old place near Powell’s. Similarly wood-paneled and tradition-steeped is Dan & Louis Oyster Bar, where the specialty is tiny and flavorful farmed Yaquina Bay oysters. A better choice for a full meal is McCormick & Schmick’s, smaller than Jake’s but owned by the same people. A list of the day’s varieties of fresh fish leads off the menu; always there is salmon lightly smoked over alderwood, a particularly good choice.
For more casual meals Portlanders meet after work and before movies at B. Moloch, usually called the Heathman Pub, which serves sandwiches on the various house breads and new-style thin-crust pizzas. In fine weather people eat at sidewalk tables. Although the restaurant is affiliated with the Heathman, it is two blocks from the hotel and much looser. The Heathman has its own formal, pricey, and good restaurant, with superb service and an excellent list of Oregon pinot noirs; the menu focuses on Northwest fish and game. The prices at the Heathman Pub are $10-$15 and in the hotel’s dining room $35-$40. The bustling pub is high-ceilinged and bright, with exposed-brick walls, a big wood-fired oven, and, down a few steps, a bar with a microbrewery visible behind windows.
Or, if the weather allows, you can buy the makings of a picnic at City Market, in Nob Hill, where the groceries and prepared foods are excellent. There you can sample the home-cured prosciutto of Fred Carlo, a local sausagemaker with a devoted following, who trained in San Daniele, above Venice, and whose prosciutto is the best I’ve had outside Italy.
THE MOST important meal of not just the day but any trip to Portland is breakfast at the Original Pancake House. Although there are franchises in several other cities, this is the true original, owned by one family since 1953. It is thronged by locals, who pass the time waiting to be seated by reading the paper on Windsor chairs in the vestibule of the pine-paneled Cape Cod house, which looks unchanged since the fifties (and is spick-and-span). The restaurant is open Wednesdays through Sundays from seven until three. On weekends it’s best to go later in the day to avoid a long wait.
I ate at a communal table, where my tablemates and a very friendly waitress guided me through the menu. I kept having to taste one more kind of pancake, since I’d never had better ones. My favorites were the buckwheat, nutty and only slightly sweet, and the Swedish, cooked like very thin crepes and served with lingonberry jam. Both doughs contain yeast, which imparts a slight tang and gives an airy texture. The ripe, freshly cut fruit, the constantly brewed coffee, the fried-to-order eggs, all looked just as they should as waitresses sped by lofting them. If I could, I would start every day with an order of Swedish pancakes. You can hold the lingonberries.
