ROGER PORTER
The Oregonian
September 22, 2006
What do you think about when you think about brunch? Fresh berries cradled in a juicy melon, a German pancake with lemon juice, a puffy cheese omelet, huevos rancheros, an onion bagel with lox and cream cheese.
But if you’re from New Orleans your thoughts turn to a very different lineup: turtle soup, soft shell crab, an omelet with crawfish, pain perdu, grilled oysters, beignets.
New Orleans was one of the first American cities to go all out for a prodigious mid-morning meal, served in the French Quarter to tradesmen who began their day before dawn. Soon the practice of hearty morning fare caught on throughout the city, in both restaurants and homes.
Now Portland can claim a piece of that rich tradition, with two fine restaurants dedicated to making your Sunday blissfully caloric.
One of them, Roux, opened its doors just weeks after Hurricane Katrina. Portland didn’t get that many refugees from the storm, but we did get a lot of authentic New Orleans cooking. Roux is a clubby place, flooded with light and filled with booths of dark wood, dominated by an attractive bar. It’s a space large enough to display a huge sculptural apparatus that looks like machinery from a Victorian factory but was actually an elevator used to haul cloth in the building that once fabricated drapery.
When you brunch there you throw out all notions of the usual progression through a meal. You might begin, for instance, with tiny grilled oysters bathed in fennel butter; or richly creamy white cheddar grits; or a garlicky andouille sausage, split open and grilled for smokiness.
Since you’re daringly foregoing fruit juice, you might substitute a Big Easy cocktail. Who wants OJ when you can get a “St. Charles Stroll” of sparkling wine, pureed ginger and (in a local homage) Clear Creek Brandy? Or, if you really miss your citrus, a “Lady Marmalade” of champagne, orange marmalade and orange liqueur?
Such concoctions perk up a crawfish omelet, the best dish on the menu, where the meat from little crawlers is crisply fried and succulent inside, and the accompanying spicy potatoes drive you back to your “Brandy Milk Punch” or the dark coffee roasted with the chicory root that gives New Orleans java its characteristic strength and bite.
Eggs Benedict isn’t a dish indigenous to New Orleans, but Roux has colonized it with a nice Gulf Coast touch: Chunks of Louisiana blue crab spill over the top and blend their marine richness with the classic poached egg and Hollandaise sauce.
But not everything is that good. Shrimp fritters are disappointingly leaden and doughy, and a banal tartar sauce masks the delicate crustaceans; the shrimp gratinee is overwhelmed by a thick coating of bread crumbs; and the beignets — rectangular doughnuts dusted with powdered sugar — lack the airiness of the originals from the famed Cafe du Monde, come with a gratuitous blueberry sauce and are not even warm. Verdict: a brunch that’s reasonable facsimile to what a decent place near the levee might deliver, but not enough that will thrill you.
Acadia, a more casual neighborhood place in its fifth year, but newly serving brunch, offers a great replica of the true piping hot beignet, light as a cumulus cloud. Its brunch options have something else Roux lacks: Fine N’awlins jazz played by a couple of exiles on guitar and drums to put you right in the mood.
Brunch here is fabulous, from the zesty, mahogany-dark and pungent bayou turtle soup made with meat flown up fresh and topped with a dash of sherry, to the extraordinary polenta spiked with pecans, creamy with blue cheese and splashed with Steen’s cane syrup.
The kitchen here really knows what it’s doing. Oysters wrapped in bacon and flash-fried are plump, sweet and emulsive, the accompanying remoulade sauce made with just the right kick; the soft shelled crab is lacy and crisp, served with a homemade tartar sauce that is light and laced with lots of lemon and jalapenos. One item caused heated dispute at our table: jambalaya strata. Unlike a traditional jambalaya, a rice stew with meats and stock, this dish is, as its name implies, a layering of firm-cooked eggs served in a bowl, something like a frittata laden with smoked chicken, duck, Andouille and Tasso sausages — a breakfast version of the traditional dish. Some will go for it, but be warned: It’s a thick, dense, eggy affair.
In a duel between Acadia and Roux, one dish could serve as touchstone: pain perdu, literally bread that is “lost” or just over the hill. It’s a kind of French toast, and Roux does a respectable, traditional rendition, adding fresh peaches. Acadia delivers a version that features a huge hunk of Pearl Bakery brioche doused with a lake of bananas Foster topping. The bread is soaked in a flambe of rum, banana liqueur, cinnamon and butter, chunked with pecans and mounded with what the menu says is a “dollop” of whipped cream, though it looks more like a glacier on Everest. It is one of the single best things to eat in Portland, and you’ll need help finishing this immense pile of diabolical seduction.
We’re lucky to have two places which, along with Portland’s Lagniappe, understand Cajun and Creole traditions. Roux does nice work, but for sheer joy, culinary excitement and dish after dish of explosive flavors and stunning presentations, Acadia takes the prize. Brunch there, and you will not rue the day.
