Under the Table with Jen » Food Carts

The Sugar Cube

admin — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 20:18:07 +0000

CLOSED FOR WINTER, WILL REOPEN IN SPRING 2010 (SNIFF, SOB)

Once you get past the straightforward names (ie: Coffee and a Cookie, Beer.Cheese.Bacon), Sugar Cube owner and pastry chef extraordinaire Kir Jensen’s menu reads like something you’d find in a high-end restaurant, not surprising considering her dossier includes stints at Genoa, clarklewis, and the Ritz Carlton. The Coffee and a Cookie, for instance, is an inch or so of sinfully creamy coffee panna cotta in a squat Ball mason jar, topped by a soft dollop of whipped cream and whisper-delicate shavings of chocolate, and accompanied by a crisp gingersnap covered in a light crust of sugar that glitters like fresh snow after a big freeze ($6). The Beer.Cheese.Bacon–a small, round, and impossibly moist and rich Guinness and ginger stout cake topped by a scoop Fifty Licks Tahitian vanilla bean ice cream, praline bacon crunch, a light drizzle of bitter buckwheat honey, and snowy little shavings of white cheddar, rings in at a scant $7, and is served in a real glass jar on a delicate pink-flower lined china plate. One of Kir’s magic sugarpowers is her ability to make unbelievably moist and flavorful cake, cake so good you cry a little bit when you eat it, so don’t miss her cupcake of the week, or you can special order cupcakes with 72 hours notice and a minimum order of two dozen. In addition to the more elaborate desserts, Kir’s menu features an “Ultimate Brownie” topped with bittersweet chocolate ganache, fleur de sel, and a grassy green olive oil ($3.50), the cupcake of the week ($3-$3.50), and hot drinkable deliciousness like the Hot Chocolate Malted ($5) with Ovaltine chocolate malt, whole milk, Venezuelan Maracaibo Creole milk chocolate, whipped cream and smoked Hawaiian salt, and quintessential autumn favorite Draper Girl’s apple cider, which Kir infuses with vanilla bean, fresh ginger, cardamom, cinnamon sticks and nutmeg and serves with a Tonalli’s old-fashioned glazed doughnut ($5).

Nuevo Mexico

admin — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 22:55:36 +0000

I remember my last visit to New Mexican food cart Nuevo Mexico all too well–the tamale-obsessed motormouth who cut in front of me in line, the truly egregious pair of plaid pants I had to stare at for 14 long minutes in line, the frigid wind and smattering of early autumn rain that tried to get me to give up the cause and go back to work empty-handed. But then there were the delicious smells drifting out of Nuevo Mexico’s little kitchen, the fresh flour marks covering the front of owner and chef Jess Sandoval’s navy blue t-shirt, the eavesdropping to be had as Jesse talked to the patron in front of me about watching his father make these same recipes that he was so carefully replicating now, as he carefully snipped open the puffy just-fried pastry that would become a made-to-order chicken adovada sopapilla. I’d come, I’d seen (way too much of some really ugly plaid pants), and I would conquer, damn it. And the old “good things come to those who wait” adage proved true, as I devoured a plateful of Nuevo Mexico’s Navajo tacos back in the warm, plaid-free safety of my office, digging through the layers of fat pinto beans, ground beef, shredded lettuce, fresh tomato, green chile and melted cheese, and down into the soft layer of sweet frybread that held everything. After that I hardly had room for a bowl of posole–a traditional spicy corn stew made with chunks of pork (or beef, some days) and hominy in a red chile-inflected broth, or the Sweet Lunas–fried puffs of sweet dough tossed with honey and sugar. Nuevo Mexico, which serves green and red chile-laden New Mexican favorites like carne adovada, huevos rancheros, burritos, sopapillas, and tamales, recently relocated to the new Mississippi Marketplace food cart cluster at N. Mississippi and N. Skidmore, and Sandoval is still working out his schedule, generally opening between noon and 6pm Wednesday – Saturday and noon to 5pm on Sunday, or until he’s sold out.

The Big Egg

admin — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 00:29:20 +0000

“I’m not sure about that!” Mette shouted in genuine alarm when she saw my lunchtime prize–The Big Egg’s “The Ultimate,” three layers of crosshatched Applewood smoked bacon fraternizing with gobs of warm creamy Nutella between two inch-thick slices of golden grilled Grand Central brioche. It’s not for the faint of heart, nor the high of cholesterol. Speaking of which, I highly recommend The Big Egg’s monumental Mississippi Monte Cristo–one (big) egg is introduced to grilled Black Forest ham and tangy gorgonzola, then they get drizzled with maple glaze, and party down between two slices of crunchy vanilla cardamom brioche French toast. Eating it might have been life changing and it was definitely outfit-changing, but that’s my fault for breaking my own rule of no wearing white shirts to the food carts. If all this talk of Nutella and gorgonzola-stuffed buttery brioche calorie bombs is making your Pacemaker blanch, try the more staid Portlander–two (big) eggs any style with cheese, dijon mustard, and coarsely chopped chives between, you got it, two slices of grilled Grand Central Bakery brioche. There’s a lot of good tasty (if not necessarily clean) fun to be had with big eggs and two pieces of Grand Central Bakery brioche, as proven by this yolk-yellow little North Portland food cart, a popular addition to the grand new Mississippi Marketplace. If you aren’t a brioche person (seriously?), you can make do with The Big Egg’s egg, potato, meat (optional) portabella mushroom, and fire-roasted poblano salsa-filled breakfast wrap or their granola, fruit and yogurt cup. In true Portland style, The Big Egg uses cage-free vegetarian fed eggs, local and organic produce, and antibiotic and hormone free meat and dairy, and they serve Portland’s own Ristretto Roasters coffee.

Brunchbox & Sidecart

admin — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 20:42:04 +0000

Perhaps the most dynamic duo since Electra Woman & Dyna Girl, Scooby & Shaggy, Reese’s & Pieces–now there’s Brunch Box & Sidecart, definitive proof that life is so much better when you find your other half, especially when your other half serves sweet potato fries and deep-fried candy bars. Once upon a time, Brunch Box was hurtling through life as a hip, happening single food cart, enjoying its youth and success and good looks, turning out oft-praised favorites like the Youcanhascheeseburger–a 1/4 pound of Black Angus beef cradled between two Texas-toast grilled cheese sandwiches, and the OMG! Burger with egg, ham, spam, bacon and cheese. The lines were long, the press was positive, the burgers and breakfast sandwiches and hot dogs and Capri Suns were flying out the door, er, window…but something was missing. That something was sides. What’s a burger without fries? What’s a hot dog without cheesy tots? Where were the mac ‘n cheese bites, chicken tenders, zucchini sticks, onion straws, cole slaw, hush puppies, fried okra? Where was the stuffing?! So Brunch Box gave one of its ribs to the Food Cart gods and voila, Side Cart was born.* Side Cart not only has a plethora of pleasing side dishes to placate your palate, but it also offers a D I frY fry job–bring them anything edible (no, your boss’s head does not qualify), and they will batter it and fry it for a few dollars. The batter recipe is courtesy of supercute Portland chef David Siegel, so you know your deep-fried Voodoo Maple Bar or anchovy sandwich is being fried with the best. And, if you just looked in your wallet and realized that your better half once again cleaned you out of cash to subsidize their Spella Caffe habit, worry not–Brunch Box and Side Cart take credit cards! They really are the perfect couple.

*Or something like that.

Koi Fusion

admin — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 19:59:50 +0000

As we learned from a winged Jeff Goldblum, fusion attempts gone wrong aren’t pretty. But Koi Fusion’s marriage of Mexican and Korean street snacks is fusion gone wild in a good way. Inspired by a stomach-provoking visit to LA’s Kogi BBQ, Koi (Korean Oregon Infusion) owner Bo Kwon deserted his corporate job to pursue the Great Portlandian Dream of owning your own food cart, and now he and brother Jeremiah drive their shiny truck all around Portland bringing deliciously unconventional bulgogi tacos, burritos, quesadillas, k-dogs, and sliders to the grateful masses. The tacos are a standout–soft homemade tortillas stuffed with tender shredded Korean short ribs, sweet garlicky BBQ beef, spicy BBQ chicken and pork, and tofu marinated in sweet soy sauce–all made from Mama Kwon’s family recipes, then topped with shredded cabbage, chopped scallions, bean sprouts, onion, cilantro, daikon radish sprouts, and Korean salsa. Six dollars will take you far at Koi, you can get three tacos, or a kimchee quesadilla, or a K-dog (Hebrew National meets bulgogi), or the K-sliders–three baseball-sized bulgogi burgers topped with green cabbage, cilantro, and American cheese. Smooth-talking charmer that he is, Bo shares his fusion love between a handful of downtown parking lots so you have to check his website to find out where to get your Koi Fusion fix. Also follow Koi on Twitter–Bo’s frequent tweets inform you about spur of the moment deals like three tacos for $5.

Wolf & Bear’s

admin — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 04:22:39 +0000

So the last time I had a really good Iraqi-Jewish breakfast was…well, okay, never. Hence, I was delighted to stumble across Wolf and Bear’s Southeast food cart outpost at SE Morrison & 20th. The lone Wolf and Bear’s has stuck their flag, or rather, their porch swing, into the gravel wasteland that is the vacant lot kitty-corner to Lone Fir Cemetary, and the cute couple who own it (he grew up in Israel, she’s spent time in the Middle East and is a lifelong vegetarian) are turning out deliciously authentic Middle Eastern dishes like the gorge-yourself-worthy sabich (sah-beek)–billed as an “Iraqi Jewish traditional breakfast”–thick pita spread with hummus, stuffed with grilled eggplant, cucumber, pickles, onions, fresh greens, parsley and slices of boiled egg, and topped with housemade tahini and mango pickle. It puts my usual breakfast of scrambled eggs and chocolate chips to shame, frankly. Falafel lovers will gravitate towards the falafel wrap or the “Out to Lunch”–falafel, gorgonzola, caramelized onions, roasted red peppers and fresh greens, all bundled into a fat pita spread with housemade labneh, a smooth and creamy strained Middle Eastern cheese made from cultured yogurt. Desserts tend to be quite tasty, the biscotti and chocolate cranberry cake are memorable and only a dollar, and the past few times I’ve visited, I’ve lapped down Wolf & Bear’s homemade soups with gusto. Everything is either vegetarian and most dishes are or can be vegan, which should make your dreds stand up straight for joy, and they serve North Portland micro roaster Extracto’s coffee, with freshly cracked cardamon added upon request, as well as homemade lemonade with fresh mint, and Kombucha. So if you haven’t had a good Iraqi Jewish breakfast in ages, leggo that Eggo and get over to Wolf & Bear’s.

Perierra Creperie

admin — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 03:19:38 +0000

Old school hip hop blasts from the window as I step up to Perierra Creperie, a well-lit and always musically inclined beacon holding center court at the SE 12th & Hawthorne cart cluster. I take in the cheery bright yellow bunches of bananas dangling from the fruit basket, the giant box of Oreos, the shiny meat slicer, the plastic tubs of mini marshmallows and coconut and the drippy dribbly jar of Trader Joe’s peanut butter. The crepe girl is solo at the moment, so she tells me it’ll be a minute until she can take my order, and I watch mesmerized as she pours a pool of crepe batter, then deftly swirls her crepe spreader in neat cocentric circles, the excess batter sloshing off the side, narrowly missing the open Nutella container standing at attention nearby. She then dabs the crepe with egg-sized dollops of cream cheese and spreads them carefully across the surface, lays down layers of turkey and fresh avocado, expertly folds the crepe in thirds using her wide metal spatula, and pops it into a crisp white crepe cone. “Angie, your crepe’s up!” she calls into the waiting crowd, and a visibly grateful Angie hustles forward to claim her steaming prize. I’m up next, so I order the lemon curd, lingonberry, and chévre crepe and a basil coconut milk shake (Perierra makes some phenomenal shakes and smoothies), and then since I should probably get some dinner to go with my dessert, I order the mozzarella, sopressata, roasted red pepper and basil crepe, and the gorgonzola, pear, walnut and honey crepe. And the pouring, swirling, and spreading begins anew.

Nong’s Khao Man Gai

admin — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 23:44:23 +0000

The other day, I was half-listening as a friend of mine kept trying to talk to me about how he was a common guy. “Way to embrace mediocrity,” I lectured him as I tried to read the NY Times Dining & Wine section in peace. He looked at me like I had four ears, which of course, I don’t, or I might have been listening to him a little better. “It’s hardly mediocre,” he said astonishedly. “Have you eaten there?” Now that made me perk up, and we were able to commence a more coherent conversation that turned out to be about one of downtown Portland’s most delicious–and simplest–food carts, Nong’s Khao Man Gai. Standing at the neat little red and yellow cart at SW Alder & 10th (across the street from Jake’s), it won’t take you long to peruse the menu–you can order chicken and rice, or…chicken and rice, although for a dollar upgrade, you’ll get a handful of sliced chicken livers thrown in, and for $10 you can order the Khao Man Gai “Piset”, which basically means you supersize with more chicken, rice, and livers. But no matter how strongly you feel about choice, you won’t feel cheated after you try Nong’s one-dish wonder, because she works magic with her chicken, which she boils whole with salt, sugar, garlic and ginger until perfectly tender. She then adds more ginger, garlic, shallots, and pungent gingeresque galangal root to the broth and cooks the rice in it. She slices the chicken up with its fatty skin still on, and serves it on a bed of the seasoned rice with a few cucumber slices, a side of winter melon soup and a cup of toffee colored soybean sauce mixed with, yep, more ginger and garlic, and hot chilies for a little kick. For a scant $6, this all comes wrapped in plain white butcher paper secured with a rubber band. Utterly simple, yes. But common, it most certainly is not.

Pho Sam

admin — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 16:47:55 +0000

I am always torn over how to spend my precious lunch hour–do I slurp pho, do I window shop, do I sit somewhere downtown and people watch to get ideas for the novel I’m always threatening to finish? Fortunately I can do all three at Pho Sam, a positively scrumptious Vietnamese food cart on the quiet side of the downtown cluster at SW Alder, along SW 9th Avenue. After ordering the Pho Bo, I plunk down at the small table tucked into the side of the cart and breathe in the otherworldly good smell of the rich anise-scented broth teeming with strips of tender beef flank and rice noodles and herbs, then add in bean sprouts, torn up fresh basil, bright green jalapeño slices, and hoisin, hot chili sauce and a squirt of fresh lime, and go to town with my chop sticks and plastic spoon while window shopping from afar–Pho Sam’s table offers views of both the quirky Magpie windows and dreamy spendy shoe store Johnny Sole, not to mention the always interesting downtown passerby. While I generally can’t help myself from ordering the pho exclusively, occasionally I divert to the grilled pork with vermicelli noodles, the thinly sliced pork surrounded by sparklingly fresh shredded lettuce, carrots, and cilantro and scattered with chopped peanuts. And you won’t find a better value than Pho Sam’s Bahn Mi grilled pork sandwich, a mere $3.50. Thanks to Pho Sam, I can window shop, people-watch, and eat my pho too, all in the span of 60 short minutes.

Garden State

admin — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 06:57:07 +0000

I found Garden State on my way to the Sellwood Pool last summer. I was on a bike ride, which never seems to end well, and I already had two bruised ankles, a gruesome scratch across my thigh, a collection of random welts, one chapstick lost forever in the thick tangly Springwater Corridor weeds, and one embarrassing episode involving a bag of broccoli getting caught in my spokes in front of an entire street full of bored people waiting for a parade to start. Don’t ask. So I really felt that instead of swimming laps, I should soothe my weary, demoralized soul with some robust Italian street food and since eating will trump exercising any day in Jenlandia, I checked my list of Sellwood must-eats and headed to the SE 13th street food cart cluster in search of Garden State. I started with the arancine, rice balls made with creamy arborio rice and a touch of saffron to give the balls a lovely orange-yellow hue, and stuffed with seasonal vegetables and fresh mozzarella. Next, I dined on a supremely simple Caprese salad–slices of ruby-hued summer tomatoes alternated with rounds of soft fresh mozzarella and covered with paper thin slices of fennel. Carnivore that I am, my first sandwich impulse was to order the pulled pork with grilled onions and pickled watermelon rind or the Meatball Hero, but on the advice of the cute man inside the cart, I chose the chickpea sandwich–a fried garbanzo cake topped with crisp local greens, slivered carrots, roasted vegetables, and lemon aioli, on a soft ciabatta roll. Eating it, I made joyful noises that caused the family next to me to cast concerned glances my way. I’ve just never felt this way about chickpeas before. Between my meal and my refreshing watermelon basil agua fresca, my lunch was so good, I could almost forget about the broccoli incident.