For our second night in Portland our host made dinner reservations, “A friend recommended it – it is supposed to be ‘authentic Portland.'”
As we were tooling around town the day of the reservation she received a call to confirm our time. “They must be pretty busy,” she told us. To ensure we did not miss our reservation and because we were all quite hungry we arrived at the restaurant approximately fifteen minutes early – good timing considering it was tucked away in an industrial away and not entirely easy to find.
We walked in to find hipsters everywhere, several empty tables, and kitschy decor. “Authentic Portland,” said our host. We were seated immediately and offered a drink menu. “We’d like drinks, but we’re really hungry so may we please see a food menu as well?” asked the beau. “Authentic Portland, they’ll take forever to make our drinks and they’ll bring the food menu out twenty minutes later,” our host advised.
She was spot on. They brought us our very small, kitschy drinks and, many minutes later, the menus. “Authentic Portland, you’re welcome,” our host said. Another thirty minutes or so later our cheese plate and soups arrived. The soups weren’t good but the cheese plate was OK. Eventually the entrees were served and, sadly, they were bad – the bread was ‘blackened,’ and the meats were tough. Our server, however, never returned to learn of our dismay. About an hour later, after we decided we might need to go out to eat after this misadventure, an employee came to clear the table and asked, “You still enjoying that?” “We never enjoyed any of it,” the beau plainly stated. “Shit food and shit service. Authentic Portland,” our host proudly announced.