REVIEW
SOUPED UP
Brrrr, it's cold out here--must get some soup into our atmosphere. Here's a handy guide to some thermonuclear soups in our midst.

by JOANNA BURGESS
243-2122

Here in the Northwest, we like things wet. We like our espresso and our microbrews, and when it comes to eating, there is no cuisine better suited to our tastes than soup--the beverage of the food world.

But we're not too imaginative about it. Ask any Portlander where to find the best soup in town and you'll probably receive the same regurgitated response from everyone: A certain hearty Hungarian mushroom soup makes Old Wives' Tales (1300 E Burnside St., 238-0470) the old reliable.

Sadly, it seems that the world of soup is as elusive as it is enticing. At quality restaurants the offering du jour tends to vary according to the whims of the chef, which means you can't depend on the availability of your favorite. Good soup is furthermore special in that it exists in finite quantities: You can't just throw together a new pot of soup on the spot the way you can toss a salad. Once soup is gone, it's gone.

(On a related note, once soup is screwed up, it's screwed up. At Nicholas, 318 SE Grand Ave., 235-5123, after discovering that what is usually the best lentil soup in Portland was not quite up to snuff that night, we heard this sob story: Upon running out of the day's batch, a shady, stand-in chef had attempted to scrape together a quick version of the famed soup, with disastrous results.)

In the lunch lineup, there is often a strict timeframe to which you must adhere or risk disappointment. Showing up after 3 pm in many venues means you won't be likely to score any soup. The traditional stomping ground of soup is, of course, the lunch hour. Catering to the professional crowd, the Soup Station (520 NW 12th Ave., 228-2466) closes at 3. But you won't regret having to hustle when you try the Station's trademark tomato bisque--thick, slightly sweet, seasoned just right (they call it "basil essence") and topped with garlic-thyme croutons. A key element in the Soup Station's appeal is the variety; there are four to five soups every day, many of them vegetarian or vegan.

For those with a palate more inclined toward meat, the dinner-time Delta Cafe (4607 SE Woodstock Blvd., 771-3101) serves up a right fine gumbo. While $7 a bowl is steep by soup standards, this huge, steaming melange of rice, veggies, meat and seafood in a beefy broth is perhaps more of a meal than some of its soupy brethren. Plus, the Delta's sassy Southern atmosphere (the whole place reeks of barbecue, and the decor ranges from plastic beads covering the windows to a framed jigsaw puzzle of the Last Supper) is part of the payoff.

For beefy encounters, though, Pho Van (1919 SE 82nd Ave., 788-5244) wins the prize. Although Thai restaurants with their abundance of tofu and other meatless options may offer a haven to vegetarians, there is indeed another side to Asian cuisine. The Van family restaurant offers nine varieties of Vietnamese pho bo--noodle soups that contain such treats as steak, meatballs, tripe, tendon, flank and fatty brisket. It's a meat-lover's paradise. Try the mi quang--turmeric-soaked rice noodles, shrimp, fishcake, spareribs and diced jicama, in a slightly spicy broth, garnished with sesame rice crackers.

Cassidy's (1331 SW Washington St., 223-0054) may be better known for its bar than its kitchen, but the menu sports one of the best French onion soups in town. And at Caswell (533 SE Grand Ave., 232-6512), the spinach Tuscan bean soup is less exciting than it sounds, but the dimly lit cafe, covered wall to wall with dusty-looking books, provides an atmosphere so cozy it almost makes the food irrelevant.

OK, so Old Wives' Tales and the Soup Station are still some of the best places to slurp in this town, but it's perfectly acceptable to extend your comfort zone.