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But new Southern brunch spot Muscadine seems poised less to resemble the efficient butter-driven churn of Screen Door than North Portland's preciously cozy breakfast nook Sweedeedee. It's a boutique brunchery serving up the SEC territory's meats and threes along with choice flavors culled from the huge swath of America bounded by the Atlantic, the Appalachians and the open range: shrimp grits, andouille sausage, catfish and mustard barbecue sauce. That said, for such a sweetheart of a place, it arrives on the scene branded as a carpetbagger, having plunked itself into the former space of well-loved indie-rock bar Tiga. But Muscadine didn't push them out. Tiga placed an ad to sell its business last May, chef Laura Rhoman says.
The little room still feels like Tiga, except the lights are brighter and there are nicer chairs and tables. But Muscadine quickly distinguishes itself with some singular comforts, enough to claim the space for its own. Rhoman is a chef with eight generations of family behind her in Tupelo, Miss., and a decade logged in the kitchens of famed Southern chefs like Scott Peacock and Martha Hall Foose. Those roots have left her fundamentally at ease with cuisine that travels from the Carolina coastline to Appalachia and Acadiana (but never to Texas or Alabama).
In particular, Rhoman's collard greens are a revelation—not because she tarts them up with heavy garlic and vinegar, but because she doesn't. They're cooked slowly enough to allow their natural flavor to come to the fore: rich and deep as an old gospel song, a testament to patience. The sea island red peas are spiced gently to let the peas' richness come through with just a tiny snap at the skin; the breakfast potatoes are cooked to crisp edge with a beautifully soft center. Muscadine is a place where texture is carefully attended to. The fried catfish ($13) is as simple as it gets, with a light cornbread crusting and a thick, tender moistness rarely found in Portland-cooked catfish, which is often overwhelmed with breading and spice, then overcooked.
But the star of the menu is Rhoman's own invention: The cochon ($12) is intended as a tribute to the gravy-soaked cochon de lait dish of Acadiana, but more resembles a North Carolina pulled-pork sandwich crossbred with eggs Benedict. Smoked pork is fried into a lightly crisped fritter atop a bed of slaw, topped with a poached egg and the vinegar-mustard kick of Carolina Gold barbecue sauce. It's a parade of texture, with the acidic kick of pickled cabbage and mustard sauce offsetting the egg's unctuous richness and the smoky pork. My God, it's terrific.
However, not everything hits those heights. The biscuits ($10), a staple for any Southern-styled spot, are thick, dense and doughy—a combination that leads to a lot of chewing. The andouille omelette ($11) is merely functional. And the Nashville hot chicken ($13) isn't. It's a light wash of cayenne and paprika added to the surface, about as much heat as a milk bottle placed in a warmer.
A more interesting accent is the fried okra ($4). It's a perfect thing: cornbreaded nuggets about the size of popcorn but 18 times as satisfying. Muscadine offers a succession of little surprises packaged as something familiar: a little warmth, a little care, a little house seasoning salt in the batter. As Southerners have always known, it's the smallest gestures that texture a life.
- Order this: Cochon or catfish, and some fried okra.
- Iâll pass: The biscuits and gravy disappoint.
EAT: Muscadine, 1465 NE Prescott St., 841-5576, muscadinepdx.com. 8 am-2 pm Wednesday-Monday.
WWeek 2015
