Teej's Secret Box

1510 SW Harbor Way
Portland, OR 97201
www.threedegreesrestaurant.com

There comes a day every once in a while when you just have to say, “screw it” and get yourself spoiled in different ways. Considering that I am being held against my will (“No showee, no payee!” in a sense) at work here in Portland over the weekend. In other words, instead of heading home on Thursday, I have to man the servers and ensure that everything goes well during several test runs.

With that in mind, I decided to spoil myself food-wise last night. I ask my hotel’s concierge for his recommendation of places to eat. My qualification was simply a typical fare that is upgraded to an art form.

Normally, most people have their own picky palette, so it is difficult to find new places to try after you settle down to several choice restaurants. I was determined to break through that doldrums, so I urged the concierge to find a well respected place with a decent variety of foods to pick from, thus the suggestion of Three Degrees.

Tucked within Riverplace Hotel, whose appearance screams “Honeymoon Suites”, the setting of this restaurant is ideal for romantic couples looking for a place to dine while watching the river, with yachts, manned by overzealous captains eager to press their horn at any slight hint of infractions by others, passing by. I was probably the only table with an odd number of people, but it suits me as I have Book 7 of Harry Potter to devour while enjoying my meal.

Upon arrival, I noticed that among the menu options was the equivalent of omakase (お任せ – “entrust”/”protect”) offered. Omakase is short for “omakase onegaishimasu” (お任せお願いします- the second word meaning “please do me the favor”), asking the chef to prepare a meal for you. Typically uttered in sushi bars, it can be a huge gamble — being given something that you would never have the guts to order, but finding them to be highly delicious. It usually comes with a price tag much higher than a typical meal, but with the best quality fare available for you, it is a meal not easily forgotten. I strongly implore everyone reading this to make this choice whenever they are able to do so.

I was also in a mood for a martini, but I decided to demur and get the wine pairing option along with the menu, fully yielding to the chef the meal for the evening. Even with this option made, the waitress soon returned to inquire of any particular style I may prefers and rather would avoid. Tempted I may be, I chose to yield with willing to eat whatever that is offered.

I chose the five course meal, along with wines which tips the scale to a three figure sum after tips, but oh what a meal it was.

Starting out with a brut, the first course was raw scallops, topped with tiny chopped granny apple, some citrus fruit, marinated with some sweet butter sauce, accompanied with a mild soy sauce. It was the second best course of the bunch, absolutely delicious high grade scallop far better than what I have tried in many sushi shops.

Accompanied by an Australian viognier, the second course was a beautiful colorful stack of tomatoes, marinated with some kind of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and topped with blue cheese. This was the mildest blue cheese I have ever taste, much to my pleasure, and this dish worked really well.

A pinot noir supported my most favorite dish of the night — wrapped halibut with cooked prosciutto, laid upon slightly cooked dark mixed greens, with a light oil dressing. It was magnificent. Just simply magnificent, and the wine did all it could to prop the dish up on the pedestal, and succeeding in the process. If only it was offered on the menu, I would have brought my team over just to try this dish.

For the main course, I was given a very bold cabernet sauvignon. Upon sniffing it, I knew I would be having steak. I was not disappointed with sliced tenderloin laid on a bed of sour cream mashed potatoes. Delicious. Delicious.

For the final course, along with a port that warms you up all over with a tiny sip, a dessert of roasted banana, crunchy cinnamon wafer, surrounded by a sea of warm chocolate — it was a nice finish.

This meal was delicious, and very satisfying. However, I can not help but sense that despite the skills of the chef, it felt as if he has been beaten down to submission. Running a restaurant could exact a severe toll on the chef, with fussy palettes interfering with his imagination. The chef clearly is skilled, but too restrained.

The contrast with Jax Restaurant which I reviewed is that the chef for Jax is extremely creative with the limited budget and food options he had to adhere to. This restaurant screams good ingredients, yet a disheartened chef going through the motions.

I do plans on coming back, but with only one objective — to somehow find the best this chef could offer. I am at a loss at how one can do this, and would welcome anyone’s advice.

It is a fantastic place, with great view, great food. Yet, it can be so much better.

826 SW 2nd Ave
Portland, OR 97204

http://www.jaxbar.com/

Part of the iDine Reward Network program.

Buried in the heart of downtown Portland, near the World Trade Center (Yes, Portland got one too. No, it is still standing.), there are a series of well-aged buildings, harking back to the older days of Portland. It is difficult to peg the age of those buildings, as they’re brick-built, yet the age is apparent as you look inside at the gaudy motif. One special exception is the Bally Fitness Center — bright and shiny, and full of treadmill hackers bouncing up and down in perfect unison. Right next door is the perfect place to regain the calories you burn, Jax Bar & Restaurant.

Jax is actually three locations physically separated in several ways, a bar/lounge area rest prominently in the front of the street entrance, the restaurant is found across the hallway, and the rooftop patio is found three floors up, providing a lovely view of Mt. Hood — the Mountain of Portland as much as Mt Fuji is the mountain of Tokyo (although that one is difficult to see from downtown).

Labeled as serving American fare, two strikes against this restaurant led me to have a lower expectation of the food. The first strike is the incredibly poor motif screaming 1970 bar including well faded TVs that is difficult to watch at a distance. The second strike is the special meal of the day — meatloaf.

But there were hints. The menu was incredibly well designed. The food options were described with a special flair. For example, the ribeye steak boasted sides of wilted spinach garnished by Canadian bacon, and onion; au gratin potatoes; and demi glace. It was a choice that impressed me enough to order it, despite my policy of not ordering steak at non-steakhouses.

What a choice it was. The cut was your typical grocery store ribeye cut — nothing incredibly special, or well aged. However, what the chef have done with this steak is nothing short of remarkable. The steak was presented as properly prepared. It was clearly not frozen at any point in its life, a huge plus. The fat was so tender, indicating a sharp eye in selecting the cut. It was lightly marinade with demi glace, adding a nice touch in flavor. And on top of it all, it was cooked evenly, perfectly nailing the medium rare creed I requested.

The sides, oh the delicious sides, the spinach was wilted with the use of water and a little balsamic vinegar. The bacon and onion mixed through the spinach were a delicious addition, far surpassing my expectation. I did not eat the au gratin potatoes due to my appetite, but my co-worker took a few samples. This was layered in a cake-like structure, and cut like a slice and laid on its side. My co-worker remarked on the superiority in taste for this option.

Everything clearly was made from scratch, and it was a heavenly American fare. It is clear that the restaurant budget went to the food itself, which motivates me to eat there again.

This place is a great find.

For lunch today, several of my co-workers suggested that we go to Carl Jr, and indulge in some hamburger goodness. Carl Jr, for those on the East Coast, is pretty much an equivalent with Hardee’s, with slight menu changes and selections. They have a very delicious (yet incredibly messy) “Six Dollars Burger” options, which is so well received that The Palm’s of Las Vegas offers a $6,000 combo meal variation (Think combo meal with incredibly expensive wine.)

As with everything, it should be taken in extreme moderation due to the unhealthy aspects (calories for one thing — something Subway’s love to hammer fast food restaurants on). Unfortunately, that message seems to be lost.

While I was eating there, I took a good look around, and was surprised. Out of some 40 to 50 people eating there at lunch today, only five people were either slightly or non-overweighted. I included the word “slightly” to reflect those that may be a bit chubby on the stomach (like myself, who definitely need to shed 15 pounds, and I just got off my butt to work on shedding them once again) but not quite visible under clothings.

The rest are what doctors would call severely overweighted. No, they are not poor (at least most of them didn’t appears to be.) They are mostly well dressed in business clothings. Yet they are bulging around their neck, legs, and arms, not just around their belly. People who are earning more than minimal wage jobs are sacrificing their own bodies to excessive food and minimal exercise.

I just saw a friend’s pictures on her one-year anniversary of losing weight (by means of gastric bypass after 11 years of other means of weight loss efforts), and her eyes gave it away — she is so alive and happy to the point that she is turning me on. Being overweighted is one thing, but watching those people at Carl Jr, they have given up into the grind of life so much they are so entirely unattractive.

That’s sad.

10 NW 12th Ave
Portland, OR 97209

Snuggled to the west side of a building overshadowed by Powell’s Bookstore, this little gem of a place is not quite as little as one would think. Henry’s Tavern have a extensive selections of beers on tap. One by one, they are all lined up in two rectangle spaces in a surrounded bar, never repeating itself despite some option’s popularity. Altogether, over a hundred are locked and loaded — ready to be fired upon a wide variety of glasses.

To settle for a Budweiser in this place would be high treason, even though that’s also offered on tap. It would be a tragedy to journey all this way to this pub, only to sample the most common of beer that you can get from your local lonely bar.

The charm of this tavern is added by some delicious modern technology. Appreciating your beer would be difficult if you are forced to quickly quaff the brew before it get nigh spoiled by the warmth of dozens of jolly drunks in the area. Henry’s decided to provide a way to counteract this sin of rushing through the latest masterpiece by offering a “frozen drink rail.”

This is your refrigerator writ in a very long strip around the bar, layered with frozen humidity on top, like an old fashioned fridge without a dehumidifier. Laying your fresh beer onto this platform gives the beer precious moments to remain tight, cold, and ready to go down smoothly (or harshly if that is your forte) directly to your overworked liver.

I chose to poison the liver with Celis White Ale, while my friend pulls out the jackhammer, pounding a wide variety of stouts in a quest for the mana of the goddess (along with that cute waitress’ phone number.)

Friend, you say? Why yes — he is an old college friend, who also went on to seize a career on the road. We bumped into each other (or rather he chose to brought his presence to my attention.) Having not seen him for over a decade, I was quite leery of whom he may be, but as my overworked brain kicked into the proper gears, and restored some deep dark memories from the tape archives, I realized that he was my father’s brother’s nephew’s cousin’s former roommate.

Actually, no. He was also a lab assistant at RIT, and a slave for a former roommate and a very good friend of mine.

The entire night we spent quaffing toxic brews, the tales flew high and wide, and it was a jolly night by all. A perfect place, and a perfect reason. Henry’s Tavern is such a place.

Two thoughts.

Poker

Over the past few weeks, my co-workers came up with a great idea to waste an evening — playing Texas Hold-Em poker. I thought it have to be one of the best idea, considering that our team is approximately 25 travelers strong, and the alternative are not much to sneeze at (workout, hitting restaurants and bars, talk about work, blah, blah, blah).

I had to take a week off the very week they decided to start the poker game, so I came in pretty fresh last week against my peers. After three hours of play, I somehow found myself in first place, squeezing ahead of James who were making a serious effort to have a commanding lead, but couldn’t do so due to lack of chips (we all ended up reselling our chips for hacks who keep having to buy in). This week, with a more plentiful supply of chips, James ended up with a lead that was only threatened once by me, only to overcome with a wicked river card. I ended up second.

The great thing about the whole poker game is that I can pretty much tune off from the conversation, while focusing on the cards or other things associated with it (TV, beer, nuts). Why do I tune out? It takes a lot of energy to concentrate with other folks, trying to understand what they are saying by interpreting the limited sounds that my hearing aids can force by my broken ears, and the movement of their lips. A poker game play to my advantage in two aspects: The table is ’round’ — I am able to see everyone from any spot, with not much of a difficulty; and the conversation is usually linear. Rare are there multiple conversations, everyone opts to either regal a tale or two, discuss about the subject at hand, or just talk about the absurdity of relying on the river card, despite the clear frequency of success doing so for some players.

So I have the ability to tune out, miss a few tales, and yet tune in, and learn a lot more about my co-workers than in any other environments, such as restaurants (multiple conversations), bars (too noisy/dark), and workout rooms (too much sweat = no hearing aids).

I do hope this poker night tradition continues until the end of the project.

Openness

I have never been told as often as I have this week that whatever I may have done should not be done either in a certain way, or not even be suggested at all. Either the paranoia level at this company is at its all high level, or my sense of tact is receding in a very severe way.

As I noted above, I enjoy poker so much that I took some time off lunch to look for some additional chips to stock up the local supply with. I found some halfway passable chips (the 8 gram clay-coated type) for $15 a batch at the Discovery Store (heavily discounted from the $50 retail price). While showing it off to my peers, I was told to put it away, and never to mention that we even play such a game in the office.

Same thing goes with the NCAA basketball pool. Interest in this is at its usual high, and I volunteered to arrange everything, but every step of the way, I was told to keep it on the super-low-ground. “Don’t mention that it is a part of this company!” “Don’t e-mail to the corporate accounts!” “Don’t even show the playing chart in the office!”

Even joking about certain things that may not be taboo is done with a strong encouragement to keep it quiet so that nobody else would overhear the conversation.

Why is there such an extremely high level of fear in the workplace in ensuring that work and fun are not intermixed in any manner, despite evidence demonstrating a higher level of productivity when there is indeed playtime to be had?

I see myself as a more unrestrained person at times, but I can be quite sensitive to any direct sense of offense on anything that may have been done. If I somehow sense (even wrongly) that I may have offended someone out there, I would be quite apologetic, and would cease to do anything offensive anymore around that person. It is just my nature to lighten the moment, but not to harm anyone emotionally.

I do miss the time I had with a few wonderful co-workers in Montreal. We ended up buying bags of rubber bands, and flinging it in creative ways toward each other from time to time. I don’t remember when it stopped, but once it did cease, that assignment pretty much felt like work, and I started plotting to leave that assignment. That story is probably legend among my peers, but not as much as that butter incident that Fran loves to repeat to anyone he meets, that silly bastard.

Is consulting such a serious business these days that it’s an impossibility to even have fun? I do not want to face having to go back to Portland every week till September if I can not have fun, even though it may not be ‘quite proper’ among some circles.