Family Meal
With the communal dining trend on the rise, family meal has taken on a split meaning. There are meals you have with your real family–the family that raised you, fed you, clothed you, tolerated you, screwed you up good and proper and continues to haunt you with at least four phone calls a day updating you on their snap peas and the dog’s bladder control problem and offering unsolicited advice about your hair, wardrobe, career choices and love life; then there are meals you have with your new faux family–the people you’re seated next to at a long, seemingly very wide community table and forced to make awkward eye contact with for several hours or until you drink enough wine to convince yourself that you are the most fascinating of social butterflies. Here are a few places where you can get a dazzling Family Meal or Faux Family Meal.
Beast
Intensely driven, food-obsessed, self-taught chef Naomi Pomeroy has been captivating Portland food lovers for nearly a decade now, first with her Ripe empire (Family Supper, Clarklewis and Gotham Building Tavern), and now with Beast, a most excellent value for your communal dining buck. One of Portland’s hottest dining tickets, Beast has been lauded by the likes of Esquire, Gourmet, and Food & Wine, which recently named Naomi a Best New Chef of 2009. Despite the accolades, popularity, and price tag, there’s really nothing pretentious about Beast and Naomi’s rustic, locally-sourced, and flavor-rich cuisine (except occasionally, the crowd, but Naomi can’t help that). Each course on her prix fixe menu—which changes every Wednesday—is lovingly prepared by Naomi and her sous chef Mika, in an open, intimate kitchen, mere feet away from the two long wooden tables that comprise the entirety of the diminutive restaurant’s seating. What’s Naomi cooking tonight? Only she knows, and since her menus are fixed, you and your randomly assembled dinner party will eat it.
Clyde Common
This downtown gastropub’s beautiful high-ceilinged dining room’s long wooden communal tables seat somebodies next to nobodies, suits next to hipsters, locals next to hotel guests just passing through town, all eating what Clyde calls simply “domestic and foreign cooking,” dishes like rabbit terrine with pickled beets, tuna salad with piquillo pepper and saffron sauce, or ravioli of sweetbreads, caramelized onion and bacon. Drinks are some of the best in the city, Clyde only employs the crème de la crème of the mixology world, the wine list is practially infallible, and on Sunday nights, you can share a half-price bottle of bubbly with all your tablemates/new best friends. If you are feeling anti-social or desire to break up with your honey in the comfort of your own two-top, by all means request a table upstairs in the loft.
Le Pigeon
At Le Pigeon, one of Portland’s foremost “communal dining” experiences, you’ll be seated at one of the three long wooden tables that comprise the restaurant’s seating, which puts you in very close quarters with your neighbors, so be sure to bring your Tic Tacs, and maybe a bottle of wine to share. Chef Gabriel Rucker cooks up his own version of French fare both classical and with a twist, turning out dishes like his ultra-satisfying signature Beef Cheek Bourguignon, Poussin with shell beans, corn, and chanterelles, and Squash Lasagna with basil and mozzarella. If communal tables make you claustrophobic, sit up at the “Chef’s Counter,” aka the bar, which puts you so close to the little open kitchen you can almost touch the flock of pigeons tattooed on Gabriel’s forearm, and feel the flame as the Scallops with Radish and Seafood Butter are being seared.
Simpatica Dining Hall
Simpatica Dining Hall is hidden away in the mustard-colored Pine Street Studios building in the semi-industrial wilds of SE Ash Street, where it hosts unforgettable communal dinners that brilliantly showcase Pacific Northwest cuisine every Friday and Saturday evening, much to the delight of those who are able to secure a reservation. The fixed, multi-course menu reads like exactly the sort of gourmet lineup you’d rustle up with all beautiful food you bought at Farmer’s Market–if only you’d gone to culinary school instead of journalism/medical/cosmetology school. The wine list is excellent, and you’ll probably want to share your bottle of Albariño with your fun, friendly table neighbors Will and Martha. And since eating an unforgettable meal with amiable and interesting strangers is communal dining at its best and makes for fast friends, before too long, you’ll know the names of all your neighbors’ grandchildren, and they’ll know exactly how much you weigh, and thanks to Simpatica’s policy of thoroughly explaining each course before you consume it, you’ll both know what a Pocha bean is.
Tastebud Farm
Tastebud Farm’s dining room, on SE Milwaukie near the Aladdin Theatre, is small, stiffly elegant and filled with fresh flowers, sort of like my grandmother’s parlor except without the crimson velvet sofa. To save space, tables are communal but if you’re not a fan of supping with others and the restaurant isn’t full, socialization isn’t mandatory. If the weather is cooperating, request one of the round tables on the pretty garden patio outside—complete with flourishing flora and fauna and a burbling fountain. The simple menu features a few seasonal salads and fresh off the fire specials, but the real stars are the pizzas. Chewy, slightly tangy crust with beautiful bubble blisters and just the right amount of char, you can choose your own adornments or you can order one of the pizzas on the menu, combinations include more traditional arrangements like sausage, fennel, tomato, mozzarella, as well as pizzas that reflect the season, like the summery zucchini, ricotta, parmesan, and arugula pizza.
Toro Bravo
Waiting in line to eat is one of my greatest pet peeves. And since no-reservations Toro Bravo almost always has a line, I have done some very crazy things to get to the door when they open at 5pm, including almost running over my dad. But once I’ve claimed my spot at one of the communal tables and I’m tucking into the succession of Spanish-style small plates, including manchego & paprika fritters and marinated sheep’s cheese with rose petal harissa & mint, or the meatballs with tomato-almond sauce & English peas, it’s all worth it. Sorry Dad. The restaurant itself is small but beautiful, located in a restored historic building, with warm rust-colored walls, soft lighting and eclectic artwork, and polished old wood floors. Whether you opt for a communal or non-communal table (sometimes you don’t really have a choice), a spot at the humming bar, or a chair along the open kitchen where red-shirted Executive Chef John Gorham and team are toiling merrily, you’ll be in the center of a hive of small plates-induced ecstacy.
