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Laslow's
Northwest
2327
NW Kearney St., 241-8092
Open
5-10 pm Sundays-Thursdays, 5-11 pm Fridays-Saturdays. Credit
cards accepted. Kids very infrequent. Expensive.
Picks:
Seared scallop and foie gras, pumpkin custard crab cakes,
braised lamb shank, grilled duck breast, Indian pudding.
Nice
touch:
Warm, comfortable
vintage home, with cozy family atmosphere.
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Sometimes a change of scene is all it takes. While the old
venue of Laslow's on Northeast Broadway was pleasant enough,
and occasional dishes quite satisfying, I felt that in general
the ambitions exceeded the executions.
No longer so. Laslow's has moved to a new location just
off Northwest 23rd Avenue, in a charming vintage house,
and the gratifying results are immediately apparent. As
if freshly and suddenly inspired, Eric Laslow's kitchen
delivers some of the most elegant, imaginative cooking in
Portland, and in a setting conducive to an enjoyment of
these almost stately meals.
There are several restaurants in old Portland homes, but
often the bones of such houses have little to do with the
updated decor or the slapdash ambiance. In Laslow's case,
the turn-of-the-century home has been authentically restored
to make a diner feel like part of a large family whose pace
recalls a more leisurely time. There's one long room with
craftsman's touches, several moon-shaped chandeliers diffusing
a soft light, ample ledges at several of the windows that
provide a nice parking place for the wine bottle, deep rose-colored
walls and a beautifully turned staircase just beyond the
entrance hall. You feel immediately welcome, and if you're
in the mood for a holiday dinner that's both informal and
courtly, Laslow's Northwest is just the place this season.
But there's nothing old-fashioned about the cooking. It
is bright and up-to-date. You'll first encounter a sleek
bottle of olive oil for bread-dipping, but lest you think
this a hum-drum cliché, you'll discover it's the
best in town, a deep green, peppery Spanish oil that's hard
to resist. The culinary style is largely French, with plenty
of Northwest tones and accents. What characterizes Eric
Laslow's cuisine is its complexity and blend of ingredients,
which might initially seem a bit forced yet yield surprisingly
harmonious liaisons. To create daring but not ostentatious
combinations takes a subtle awareness of how one taste brings
out the potential in another one, either by echoing it or
by playing a kind of medley.
One of the most satisfying such plates is an appetizer
consisting of a slab of succulent foie gras perched atop
a large, perfectly seared scallop ringed with a fan of roasted
pear sections; showered amidst the pears are threads of
deep-fried celery root, and scattered over the whole are
a few shavings of black truffle. At the base is a sauce
consisting of light cream infused with the pulpy flesh of
sea urchins. I realize this ensemble might sound more like
an installation than a dish, or something out of a dinner
in Satyricon, but it works, each flavor and texture
distinct yet balanced, exploding in the mouth with sensuous
appeal. Laslow's timing at the stove is crucial; a number
of his creations have just the right amount of heat yet
retain an essential softness one step ahead of liquidity.
Thus, his crab cakes are creamy, the texture enhanced by,
of all things, pumpkin for an unctuous smoothness, and given
just a touch of sass by the addition of horseradish oil.
Another stunning starter takes the foie gras and truffle
and this time bakes them into an emulsive flan with mousse-like
consistency; it's surrounded by roasted fruit--this time
apple--bathed in a reduction of port and ginger, the whole
thing glazed to a fine burnish. Laslow's impulse for extravagance
is controlled by an instinct for decorum and exacting proportion.
To be sure, not everything makes great sense. I'm not sure
why anyone would want roasted potatoes for an appetizer,
even if they are fingerlings accompanied by chanterelles,
bacon and a dab of caviar and crème fraîche.
It's simply too filling, tending to deaden rather than quicken
the appetite. And I'm undecided about the plate of lobster
meat and foie gras on a bed of Kabocha squash; granted,
the Asian pumpkin is sweetness itself, and blends interestingly
with the nutty lobster, but I'm enough of a purist to be
wary of overwhelming a lobster's delicacy, however extravagant
and luxurious the melange.
The meat dishes excel here, more than the fish, which on
several occasions I've found slightly overcooked. The best
main course is a braised lamb shank, an enormous joint cooked
to exquisite tenderness and resting in a jus of fig
Marsala, the steamy aromas never quitting and the flavor
pungent yet sweet. Laslow likes to work with polenta; in
this dish it's infused with Mascarpone (he even employs
a plain, fried version of polenta with a starter of mussels).
He does nicely as well with a magret of duck grilled over
hibiscus and served with a rich, mahogany sauce of port;
it's good to see cipollini onions on the menu, and they
both soak up the wine reduction and retain their characteristic
crunchiness, marrying well with yet another appearance of
Kabocha squash. This autumnal dish, with accents of France
and Asia and Oregon, represents not an imposed fusion but
perfectly natural pairings. For vegetarians, Laslow has
created a splendid savory flan made with chanterelles and
circled by slightly undercooked Anasazi beans and seasonal
vegetables cooked in a broth of wild mushrooms, the flavors
continually bouncing off one another.
Two desserts struck my fancy. As an old New Englander I've
always enjoyed that quintessential native sweet, Indian
pudding. A hearty blend of cinnamon, cornmeal and molasses,
this moist and chewy concoction is succulent and a great
seasonal conclusion in keeping with the ambiance. The accompanying
maple ice cream provides a nice touch and in combination
will remind you of the sugar tapping of Vermont maple trees.
Laslow's bread pudding doubtless has an amplitude of cream,
since it's more like a mousse than most versions; one night
it arrived studded with figs, another with dried cherries,
but it always sports a "won ton" that's inserted in the
pudding like an aerodynamic wing, and it floats in a pool
of pale crème anglaise.
Laslow's has moved up to center stage, holding its own
with the best of Portland's restaurants. And it's pretty
to think so.
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