Et Tu, Crouton

[June 19th, 2002] Of course, "Caesar salad" has nothing to do with epileptic Emperor Julius--it's named for Caesar Cardini, a Tijuana restaurateur of Italian origin who supposedly invented this now-standard salad out of kitchen leftovers in 1924. Still, there's something imperial--and imperious--about the Caesar. The brash assault of lemon and garlic. The ambitious mixing of dangerous ingredients (anchovies? raw egg?). And the center-stage celebration of romaine--a robust, indomitable lettuce prized for its crisp bite and stubborn refusal to wilt. Thus the perennial popularity of Caesar, the salad. If only Caesar--the man--had been so lucky.

Here are a few of Portland's incarnations of the classic, with our ratings:

Justa Pasta
The Justa Pasta Caesar is a lot like the restaurant--petite and unassuming on the surface, but explosive with delights once you get acquainted. Romaine leaves and croutons are cut into equal-sized pieces, with the whole dressed in a thick, very garlicky dressing. All in all, the salad coats the palate, such that you could follow it with JP's hearty house-made pastas and still feel the burn.

Verdict: Though the salad is lively and pungent, a tangy squirt of lemon would help clear the stage for the next act. Still, this Caesar wins the most-lettuce-for-your-lira award--just shy of a fiver for a large.

1336 NW 19th Ave., 243-2249. $3.25/$4.75.

Bluehour
Tender leaves from the heart of the romaine are served untorn on a long trencher designed for two diners. The dressing is lemony and light, and the dish is dusted with Grana Padano parmesan shaved to a superfine snow. A dish with more parmesan and a diminutive spoon is provided for those with bossier taste buds--but, in fact, this salad only looks delicate.

Verdict: The amount of lusty sawing required to fashion a bite-sized morsel makes this before-dinner treat a frank and carnal rendezvous--better suited to a business meeting than a timid first date. Excellent when coupled with deep-fried olives (a house peculiarity) and a very dirty martini.

250 NW 13th Ave., 226-3394. $14 (serves 2).

Gino's
Neighborhood haunt Gino's is well-loved by its patrons for sweet-tempered service, romantic atmosphere, and the Caesar salad--a lettuce leviathan that serves a hungry two or a dainty four. Here's the drill: Your server distributes the salad onto chilled plates, grinds a little rough-cracked pepper over your personal portion, then liberally sprinkles the remainder of the salad (because yes, there's still plenty left). Diners can help themselves throughout their meal--or even eat European style (roughage after entree).

Verdict: This Caesar wins the stinking rose award for its garlic content--discernible bits of raw allium lurk in the lemony dressing. Don't be shy--bold and stinky is what Caesars were born to be.

8051 SE 13th Ave., 233-4613. $9.50/$14.

Sala
Caesar loyalists might sniff at Sala's salad, which takes a few liberties with the familiar formula. The croutons are made from cubes of parmesan polenta flecked with rosemary that are fried and served hot over the already-dressed leaves. The creamy dressing would be a dead ringer for ranch but for the generous layer of parmesan that steers the dish away from the gates of Hidden Valley. Take your salad al fresco with a little of the house lemoncello (lemon-infused vodka cut with simple syrup).

Verdict: Though not a "true" Caesar--and is purity really necessary for a salad that's American by way of Italy and Tijuana?--it's an interesting variation.

3200 SE Milwaukie Ave., 235-6665. $4/$7.50.

Olive Garden
You probably know that the secret ingredient that makes mass-produced food taste so greedy-good is...sugar. And the Olive Garden's Caesar dressing is true to form--tangy, zesty and sweet, it manages to approximate the real thing without too many of the real ingredients (in fact, it tastes like a creamy Italian--oils, herbs and emulsifiers to make it suspend all nice). Drizzled here over torn romaine leaves and slices of grilled chicken (mostly a bland background), if it ain't fine dining, it's definitely dining.

Verdict: The OG Caesar shows how far this improvisational salad has come: from a last-minute Mexican brainstorm to the level plain of Middle America. A rise to power Julius--or Augustus--might envy.

11650 SW Canyon Road, Beaverton, 644-0607, and other locations. $7.95.