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When devotees of the annual International Pinot Noir Celebration wanted a break from the meals served on the Linfield College campus, they ambled over to Cafe Azul for the best Mexican experience of their lives. Now Portlanders, long envious of the residents of McMinnville, don't have to make a tedious trek to enjoy the cooking of Claire Archibald. After a frustratingly long wait, Cafe Azul has reopened in the Pearl District. It is as wonderful as ever. I could say that Cafe Azul serves the best ethnic cuisine in town, but even that praise doesn't do justice to the achievement. This is cooking of a very high order, executed with concentration, confidence and a sure knowledge of a tradition culled from southern Mexican roots, particularly the region of Oaxaca. But however indigenous, the dishes at Cafe Azul will strike most of us as stunningly original--our tastes in Mexican food have been routinized by countless ersatz meals, with Mexican food in most of the U.S. mired at the level of mediocre 1950s Cantonese cooking. Archibald is concerned to replicate the recipes of her beloved adapted land, but there is some daring. Although Archibald is respectful--almost anthropologically so--of authenticity, she won't hesitate to use local resources to create flavors and dishes that resonate with the semi-tropical Mexican Pacific and the Northwest. This is a considerable accomplishment. Archibald and her sister Shawna, who runs the front of the house, lived in Oaxaca and still make forays or commission friends to bring back smoked chilies from Chiapas or seeds from Morelia. Their desire to recreate what you'd find in the best home kitchens of Oaxaca drives Claire's devotion to blend an exquisitely integrated mole Oaxaqueno by combining 28 separate ingredients--spices, chilies, seeds and nuts--producing a sauce burnished to Renaissance mahogany with an undertone of the richest imaginable loam. The flavors, at once mysterious and necessary, keep coming at you in waves of pleasure. Since the sisters believe that true indigenous cuisine has peasant roots, Claire will often simmer pots for hours. The restaurant's space is long and narrow, the colors evocative of the soil: terra cotta and brick. There is no azul (blue). A few Mexican icons show up, but no kitsch--not a sombrero in sight. There's a handsome bar in the back, a fine and lively place to have dinner, especially if you're by yourself. The open kitchen further on is inviting, and it's fun to watch the proceedings. The menu is relatively small, and a few items change each week. The tacos are like nothing you've had, unless you made pilgrimages to McMinnville. They are explosive, popping with unexpected tastes. Cochinita pibil feature corn tortillas wrapped around pork roasted in banana leaves with Seville orange and achiote, which provides a perfumelike musky saffron and a deep red hue. In the Yucatan, they bury the pork in wood-fired pits in the ground. Claire slow-roasts the meat, then shreds and mixes it with the cooking juices. Another taco comes with smoky poblanos sautéed with onion and cream. The ceviche tostada features a fried tortilla, its edges turned up to form a boat, bursting with a combination of smacking fresh, raw-marinated bass, snapper, halibut, shrimp and scallops, all showered with wild greens. It's like a brief plunge in the Golfo de Tehuantepec. I liked sierra en escabeche, seared mackerel served on a tostada with spicy pickled vegetables sprinkled with vinegar, lime juice and onions, a heady, palate-cleansing treat. You should order, if only for the fun of pronouncing it, Tlycoyos, two masa dough snacks filled with crisped pork and epazote, a woodsy herb, doused with a piquant green sauce and crumbled white cheese. Also try the three ramekins of salsas with elegant homemade chips formed like strips of ribbons; you'll get a deep orange salsa morita, a tawny green pumpkin-seed dip and a classic salsa verde. If you crave the sensation of drinking a shrimp cocktail without the shrimp, get a sangrita, an orange and ancho chili drink, commonly a chaser for a shot of tequila (four tequilas appear on the menu). Among the entrees, the mole is a standout. Served over chicken breast, it is so intense and complexly layered that you'll want to swab up every bit. Rick Bayless, the foremost Mexican cook in the country, says a good mole has "the silken fullness of a 20-piece dance band, the intricacy of a Persian rug and the intensity of a Siqueiros mural." Mixed metaphors notwithstanding, Archibald's version has the depth that comes from a patient blending of a dozen herbs and spices, peanuts, almonds, tomatillos, breads, fruits and chocolate. We tend to think of moles as chocolate-based, but literally mole, which derives from an Aztec word for stew, is a sauce thickened with ground nuts, seeds, even corn, usually made with dried chilies. There's another mole called a "tablecloth-stainer" which is sweeter and fruitier, made from pineapples and plantains, and is served with a generous helping of succulent braised lamb. Yet another deeply satisfying and earthy dish is a kind of casserole starring pasilla chilies, which impart a tangy, dark woodsy flavor to a combination of either pork loin or--noble choice for vegetarians--a medley of portobello mushrooms, zucchini, potatoes, scallions and tomatillos for a slightly astringent taste. As with all the dishes, the sauce here never masks the main ingredients, though one might make the case that the sauce is the main event. Even salmon gets a Mexican treatment, roasted in corn husks. Desserts are a surprising delight. Imagine red banana ice cream drizzled with caramel, or a prune tequila ice cream (homemade, of course, and far beyond the imagination of Ben & Jerry); a lemony flan topped with knockout espresso; a bittersweet and buoyantly flourless chocolate cake with marionberry sauce, the perfect complement to a light meal. At Cafe Azul the greeting is warm, the service efficient and professional, and the mood buzzing. Best of all, you discover a side of Mexican cuisine you may never have experienced, unless you know the grandmothers of Oaxaca, have apprenticed with Diana Kennedy or have eaten at Bayless' Topolobampo. Or voyaged to the old Azul. |
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