Dining & The Culinary Arts
September 2010


Fall in Love with French Food
at Tart Bistro

by LINDEN GROSS, Author, Writing Coach & Publisher

If I had to settle for a single cuisine for the rest of my life, I’d choose French cooking. It’s got everything a self-professed gourmet like myself needs to feel utterly fulfilled on the food front. Happily for me and all those Bendites who share my passion for fine dining, the same can be said for Tart Bistro. After just three months of operation, Tart has spiced up flawless traditional French fare with surprisingly deft originality and attention to detail. Its dishes’ complex, multi-layered flavors remind me of a symphony where everything works as a beautiful whole, and yet you can still make out each individual instrument … or in this case taste.

My dining companion and I started with three appetizers. The Board, short for charcuterie board, offers artisan cured meats and cheeses along with dried fruit, preserves and toast points. The Board changes weekly. Our version included paper thin slices of dry cured pork loin and salami, a French triple-cream cheese infused with green peppercorns, a Merlot-washed cow’s cheese, bacon-wrapped dates which had been steeped for two hours in maple syrup and cayenne, and housemade ground mustard and fig preserves. Each item on the board was memorable in its own right, but together they were remarkably delicious.

We also indulged in toasted camembert cheese served with wild mushroom fricassee and caramelized onions (yum!), as well as French fries tossed with smoked Serrano salt and paired with orange coriander aioli. We’d go back just for the fries, especially since the heat-infused salt and dipping sauce change regularly. (Hmmm. Lunch next week? With Tart’s new “Two for $6” lunch special, you can choose two of four options—a half a sandwich, soup, salad or, yes, fries—for just $6! But I digress.) Back on the dinner front, we were served the Dungeness Crab Salad with avocado. The crab tasted like it had just crawled out of the ocean and, thanks to the dish’s roasted jalapeno, gotten sunburned.

“We like bold flavors here,” said Corey Donovan, who co-owns Tart with his fiancée Amy Christiansen. “No wussy flavors allowed.” Still, a splash of fresh lime juice in the crab salad cooled the heat nicely. I loved my duck entrée. A sweet yet tart balsamic Bing cherry reduction topped a tender duck breast on a bed of creamy white bean cassoulet, which was served alongside classic duck confit and sautéed chard. But the Alaskan Halibut stole my heart … and I don’t even like halibut as a rule. The moist pan-seared fish was served with a citrus and cream reduction, along with Vail-trained chef Dan Ladenburger’s splendid deconstructed clam chowder.

The five juicy steamers served on the side in drawn butter were positively velvety without a hint of chewiness. And the bed of rendered bacon, potatoes and onions … need I say more? “This would qualify as one of my last meals if I was being hung from the gallows,” concluded my dining companion, who happens to be an attorney. I simply confirmed that I love living well and eating superbly. I’ll be doing a lot of both at Tart.

Finding a New Favorite at Five Fusion

By LINDEN GROSS Photos courtesy of Five Fusion

I was not a fan of deep, Jody Denton’s restaurant on Wall Street. The food was fine and the suspended water feature was stunning. But spending $300 on dinner and cocktails for four when two of the diners are vegetarians … well that’s just not right. Thankfully, Five Fusion, the restaurant that took its spot, has shaped up to be a terrific and imminently more affordable substitution. You can still admire the wave pool that runs the length of the restaurant’s ceiling, the bar’s modern décor and the photography.

And then you can appreciate the art that appears at your table with each dish that tastes as good as it looks. We started with a number of appetizers, including two yummy crab cakes the size of silver dollars on a bed of tropical fruit salsa, house-made dumplings filled with shrimp, pork, napa cabbage, scallion and soy ginger sauce, tender filet mignon lollipops marinated in soy and five-spice and served with mashed russet and sweet potatoes, and sesame crusted New Zealand lamb chops with a peppercorn sauce, which were also served with the potato mash duet.

“The food has a certain intelligence to it,” my dining companion (who this time happened to be my father) announced. “The crab cake is still in position number one; the dumplings in position two.” I had to agree on all counts. Our next dishes revealed just how much this restaurant really shines when it comes to seafood and fish. The Shogun Roll with unagi (fresh water eel), butterfish, asparagus, avocado that’s dipped in tempura batter and flash fried was topped with spicy salmon, black tobiko and unagi sauce. I loved the roll’s contrasts: warm vs. cool; sweet vs. salty; the silky texture of the fish and avocado vs. the slight crunch of the tempura and the al dente asparagus.

We enjoyed the Hot Samurai Roll with spicy tuna poke, avocado and cucumber topped with maguro, jalapenos and spicy mayonnaise just as much. “Marvelous,” my dad concluded. The piece de resistance, however, was unquestionably the sea bass glazed in oolong tea and served on lemon butter noodles. My favorite restaurants usually have that one particular dish that’s so incredible you just have to order it every time you go there or risk spending the entire meal wishing you had. This sweet, melt in your mouth sea bass definitely made that list.

My dad agreed. “It’s a must have,” he said. “It’s a phenomenon.” After such an abundance of delicious food, it was a miracle that we managed to muster enough room for dessert. But a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. One look at—and then taste of—the cheesecake of the day with its Oreo crust and raspberry topping, and I was delighted that I’d made the sacrifice. Simply divine. The orchid on the long, slender plate, which was also decorated with Five Fusion’s logo—a large numeral five and three dots—in green tea powder reinforced the restaurant’s obvious intent to make the food as lovely to look at as it is to eat. Now I just have to figure out how soon I can go back. I’m thinking about lunch this week unless I hit happy hour for a Sapporo or Kirin on tap before then.

Black Butte Ranch's Culinary & Scenic Vistas Deliver

By LINDEN GROSS, Author, Writing Coach, Editor, Publisher

Black Butte Ranch’s mission is a tough one when it comes to its dining scene. Its restaurants need to cater to the local Sisters and Camp Sherman community, and those Bendites who consider a scenic 40-minute drive to be a pleasure rather than a burden. They also need to wow the resort’s tourists while satisfying the homeowners who occupy the ranch’s 1251 homes. Thanks to a remodel that melds the property’s ranch heritage with modern motif—a fusion also reflected in its restaurants—the resort delivers with two eateries that could not be more different.

LODGE RESTAURANT
My dining companion and I drove out to Black Butte Ranch’s new Lodge Restaurant on a cloudy Friday evening. We started off with cocktails in the upstairs Aspen Lounge, feeling more like we were in Scotland than Central Oregon. Between the Dizzy Gin Julep (think mojito with gin instead of rum and champagne instead of soda water), the view and the friendly staff, I could have happily camped there for hours.

Luckily, my dining companion and I found the will to make our way down to the restaurant with its soaring ceilings, original oak plank floors, and wood tables with handsome wrought iron corners. While the mountains that flank the 1,800 acre resort, the view through the dining room’s floor-to-ceiling picture windows of the lake and meadows, along with the mist rising from the nearby verdant hills, worked just fine. We perused the menu as we drank in the vista, along with one of our favorite Syrahs which sported a surprisingly reasonable price tag.

The Grazing section surprised me. Smoked Pheasant Chowder? Chilled Sorrel Soup? As tempting as those both sounded, my dining companion and I couldn’t pass up the crab cakes or the pan seared scallops served with a warm sorrel and fingerling salad dressed with mint vinaigrette. Good thing. The crab cakes had so much crab I’m not even sure how they held together, while the accompanying avocado aioli and chipotle, lime vinaigrette provided creaminess with a back of the throat tickle of spice. Yum!

The scallops were equally delicious, with the sweetness of the fingerling potatoes showcasing the tenderness and sweet brininess of the scallop. For our main courses, we chose a dish off the Big Plates section of the menu, which offers composed “foodie” plates, and another off the Cowboy Chow section, where steaks reign supreme and come with your choice of side dishes. Though I’ve never been the world’s greatest halibut fan, I changed my mind that night.

The pan seared halibut topped with grain mustard buerre blanc had a subtle, sweet flavor and was so tender it almost delightfully disintegrated in my mouth on contact. The hint of licorice from the fennel slaw contrasted nicely. The Ribeye steak was about as tender as a piece of meat needs to be. We wound up ordering an extra side, simply because we couldn’t choose between the sautéed mushrooms and leeks on the one hand and the grilled asparagus on the other.

Both were lovely. Somehow we made room for beignets—light fritters served with bitter-sweet chocolate, vanilla custard and berry compote—as well as the Ranch’s legendary Sourdough Chocolate Cake, served warm with vanilla bean ice cream.

ROBERT’S PUB
I would have spent the next day working off the meal, but as luck would have it, I had to return to review Robert’s Pub, the resort’s other restaurant. I was delighted. I quickly discovered that Robert’s Pub is both family- and price-friendly. This is the place to go when you want tasty, fun pub food that’s a cut above, an affordable family meal where there’s something for everyone, or a quick bite on your way back from the valley or following a round of golf.

We sat outside on the large patio overlooking the Big Meadow Golf course, the mountains we hadn’t been able to see the prior evening looming in the near distance, and ordered beers. Mine came in a regular mug. My companion got the Tank, a 25-ouncer. Yikes! Of course, halfway through the meal I did indulge in one of the 25 wines offered by the glass, so I guess we’re even. We started with steamers simmered in Three Creeks Knotty Blonde beer with saffron, garlic, prosciutto, shallots and thyme. After eating all the clams and dunking all the bread into the broth, we asked for spoons.

Need I say more? Then came a cone of fat pub fries served with homemade ketchup that tastes like tomato chutney. A lightly dressed baby spinach salad with goat cheese, toasted almonds, bacon and sweet golden raisins followed. We shared cups (they’re actually pint-size bowls) of the Pub’s three soups as well. The gazpacho tasted like a fresh, spicy garden. The corn chowder’s luxurious creaminess came with a subtle but definitive Southwestern kick.

As for the beef and bean chili topped with sweet jalapeno cheddar corn bread, the espresso stout beer used in the recipe wove in the distinct flavor of robust coffee. I’d order all three soups again without thinking twice, but only if I was hungry enough to also get the Buffalo Chicken Sliders. Think buffalo wings, but with white meat. Add a chipotle aioli and, instead of carrot and celery sticks, savory coleslaw with chunks of Rogue River blue cheese.

“These sliders would slide down until I couldn’t move,” said my dining companion, obviously thinking about our next visit. Personally, I couldn’t figure out if I liked the sliders or the slaw better. Luckily, I didn’t have to choose. I was still thinking about buffalo sliders and Rogue River blue slaw the next morning, and would have been a happy camper if I could have had them all over again for breakfast. Of course, the dark chocolate brownie topped with peanut butter mousse that ended our meal would have suited me fine as well.

Amalia's South of the Border
in Downtown Bend

By LINDEN GROSS, Author, Writing Coach, Editor, Publisher

With Amalia’s recent opening on Wall Street in the spot recently vacated by Ciao Mambo, upscale Mexican food has finally hit Bend’s downtown. “Upscale Mexican?” a surprised and somewhat dubious non-foodie friend asked me. Pues, claro! After four years as general manager and executive chef at La Rosa, another upscale Mexican restaurant now located in Bend’s Northwest Crossing, Roberto Cardenas has brought his heritage, his vision and his talent to Amalia’s. This new restaurant may have trouble living up to local buzz and press that promised more than 100 types of margaritas and the restaurant’s own distilled tequila.

Still, with hits intriguing lunch and dinner menus and lively Mexican music, it’s off to a grand start that only promises to get better. My dining companion and I launch the evening with two margaritas. Not just any margaritas, mind you, but one with roasted pineapple and crushed red chile flake, and another with bruised cilantro. The basket of slender, crispy yellow and blue housemade chips—served with red and green salsas, and a cup of refried beans made the tasty drinks go down even more easily. I watched with envy as the Trio of Ceviches I had just read about, each one served in a giant martini glass, got delivered to another table. Hmm.

Tequila-cured red snapper, lobster and shrimp marinated in lemon juice, papaya, Serrano chiles, mint and more. I resolved to try making a batch at home. Then Roberto brought over our two appetizers, neither of which I would dream of trying to do myself. The Queso Fondido with Chorizo, tasted like a Mexican fondu. Talk about comfort food! And the Callo de Hacha, seared scallops over a lime marinated tomato and served with a fire roasted corn cream sauce were simply divine.

“Very subtle,” said my dining companion as he savored each bite, his eyes closed each time. “Lovely.” The Chile Relleno hit next. With one Pasilla Pepper draped like a flower over another pepper stuffed with sautéed lobster, mushrooms, tomato and jack cheese atop a bed of rice, it didn’t look like any Chili Relleno I’d ever seen. And with the smoky, roasted huajilla pepper-orange sauce offsetting the sweetness of the lobster, it didn’t taste like any Chile Relleno I’d ever tasted. Wow! After so much richness, the Molcajete Mixto proved a welcome change of pace.

Strips of flat-iron steak and moist grilled chicken, along with three enormous seared prawns that tasted like they were right off the boat, are served over sautéed peppers, onions and mushrooms in a hollowed out lava rock. Still, I have to confess that I’m dying to try the pork shank that’s slow-cooked for over ten hours, as well as the tamales, based on recipes that Roberto’s grandmother learned from her grandmother. Next time!

Though the dessert offerings on the menu—flan, bananas foster chimichanga, seasonal fruit tres letches cake, and Mexican chocolate ice cream—were tempting, we couldn’t say no to the fresh strawberry shortcake being offered that evening. I’m glad we didn’t. It was just about as good as that dessert can get. We also succumbed to a shot each of the daily infused tequila, topped with chopped strawberries that particular evening, which proved surprisingly sweet. “I’m thinking pancakes,” I announced after my first sip. “Breakfast may never be the same.”

Pastini’s Prize-Winning Pasta

By Linden Gross, Author, Writing Coach & Publisher

I have to confess, I may just have had too much fun over dinner at Pastini Pastaria. The appealing, airy restaurant, located on the banks of the Deschutes River in the Old Mill, resounded with lively conversation. The wait staff was warm and attentive. The Italian wines went down way too easily. And the food … ah, the food. I couldn’t believe how good it was. After all, pasta is pasta, right? Wrong. We started off with hand shaped Risotto Fritters.

The crusty, crunchy exterior made the soft, cheesy inside seem even creamier. An enormous platter of Antipasto di Verdure provided a fresh, light complement, with its fresh greens lightly tossed in a balsamic vinaigrette, roasted eggplant spread, cannellini bean, caprese and pasta salads, provolone and olives. Then we got serious. Eric, my Honey and usual dining companion, and I split two dishes. For two admitted carnivores, The Ziti con Molta Carne hit the spot. The deeply flavored Bolognese sauce, a rich beef and pork ragu braised with red wine, aromatic vegetables and spices, was topped with grilled Italian sausage and two tender house made meatballs. Molta deliciosa! Still, I have to admit that I lost my heart to the Cannelloni Frutti di Mare.

Though I feared that the shrimp, scallops and white fish might be overcooked, they were wonderfully tender. Their briny sweetness, which reminded me of the ocean, was set off by the sweetness of the Marinara sauce; the creamy béchamel sauce put me—and the dish—over the top. We didn’t stop there. Naturally, we liberally sampled the dishes our two vegetarian friends ordered. My only complaint with the side of sautéed spinach was that I didn’t get enough. (Note to self—no sharing next time.) I especially liked the bits of corn in the creamy Baked Ricotta Polenta with Marinara.

However, I fell in love with the Rigatoni Zuccati, with its roasted butternut squash, wild mushrooms and spinach, all tossed in a rosemary-infused light cream sauce. The perfect melding of flavors made it my favorite of the night, though it was a close call. Here’s the kicker. The average pasta price is $8.75, according to Susan Bashel, co-owner with her husband Craig—along with Cara and George Hale—of eight Pastinis (six in Portland, one in Bend and one in Corvallis). “We wanted to do a restaurant that wasn’t high end or expensive, and that focused like a laser on pastas,” says Bashel. “It took us nine months to develop the recipes.

We must have made 30 meat sauces and 25 tiramisus.” With that kind of effort, it was only fair that we try dessert. The Tiramisu was richer than expected, almost more like a cheesecake with a hint of espresso. The Chocolate Tartufo, a warm triple chocolate cake with a chocolate truffle center, was devastatingly good. So were the crumbly almond cookies that sandwiched vanilla bean ice cream topped with caramel sauce. But the hands-down winner for three of the four of us, including the two chocoholics, was the rich, tart Lemon Pudding Cake.

If all this doesn’t convince you to check out Pastini, consider the fact that the restaurant is now running Pasta-Thons on Mondays and Tuesdays to benefit local schools and other charities. Visitors to Pastini simply need to mention the name of the school or organization being featured on those days, and 50% of the net proceeds from their visit will go directly to the beneficiary. Takeout food counts! For a list of dates and beneficiaries, visit www.pastini.com/community. Then go enjoy.

Beating a Path to Scanlon's

by LINDEN GROSS Cascade AE
The gym bags that often flank Scanlon’s front entry don’t exactly scream fine dining. And the restaurant, located in the Bend Athletic Club, sure isn’t on the beaten path. But after the evening my dining companion and I recently enjoyed there—thanks to executive chef Brad Wood, who took over the Scanlon’s kitchen after years of working with Jody Denton in San Franciso’s renowned LuLu Restaurant and then at Merenda—I’ll beat feet there regularly.

Our evening started with Manila clams steamed with thin half-rounds of chorizo, thin slices of sweet red peppers and small chunks of potatoes. The smoky and spicy Spanish sausage contrasted deliciously with the sweetness of the clams and peppers, the flavors melding into a broth that was downright addicting. By then, our server had brought over a starter of Sourdough Flat Bred served with roasted garlic puree, hazelnut romeso (a pesto made with sundried tomatoes) and goat cheese, as well as a plate of olive oil with Herbes de Provence, chili flakes and preserved lemon. Yum!

I didn’t know where to dunk first. I was still wondering how gauche it would be to ask for a go-cup of the olive oil concoction when the salads were served. The lightly dressed Caesar Salad had good anchovy flavor, but the house salad with gorgonzola, dried cherries, roasted onions and whole crunchy hazelnuts in a sherry vinaigrette stole my heart. Until, that is, bartender Brittany Liggett presented us with a Hot and Passionate, a drink she invented made with Kettle One Vodka, Cointreau, passion fruit purée, a small piece of fresh muddled habanero pepper and a splash of soda.

I’d make my way to Scanlon’s for another one of those this second if I could. Feeling positively festive, my dining companion and I shared our main courses. The Imperial Stock Ranch Rack of Lamb served with baked ratatouille and peppermint pesto perfectly showcased the star of the show. The lamb, from a small sustainable farm ninety minutes from Bend, was perfectly cooked, and tender and tasty as could be. Seared jumbo sea scallops, the restaurant’s best-seller, were wrapped in bacon and served with creamy butternut squash risotto.

Since I’m more of a savory gal, I probably would have preferred a risotto that was a little less sweet. Luckily, the side of Brussel sprouts sautéed with pancetta and preserved lemon took care of that and more. What a treat. Even my dad, a veteran Brussel sprout hater, would love these. My dining companion is still talking about our feast’s finale: dark chocolate cake with a hint of bitterness and a hot molten center made in house and served with candied orange peel, vanilla ice cream and a crunchy almond Florentine cookie. Who could ask for anything more?

The Art of Simplicity Tuscan Style

By LINDEN GROSS, Author, Writing Coach, Editor & Publisher
Trattoria Sbandati doesn’t serve the Italian food you grew up on. This is not the place to go if you’re looking for dozens of pastas or entrées oozing with sauce. But if you want a truly authentic taste of Tuscany—from the food to the dining experience—you won’t want to miss this new Bend hot spot. Owners Juri and Kinley Sbandati moved to Bend sight unseen from Florence, Italy five years ago.

At the time, Juri, who holds a doctorate of history with a focus on the history of food, didn’t speak a word of English. Even so, Bend quickly became home. They started Sbandati Personal Chef Services, and word of mouth about Juri’s culinary talents spread as easily as softened butter. Opening Trattoria Sbandati was the next logical step for a chef looking to share his culinary vision. “We wanted to create a real Italian restaurant that focused on the history of Italian food and how things are done traditionally,” says Kinley. “We also focus on local produce that’s in season.”

Trattoria Sbandati’s limited lunch menu, which includes daily fresh pasta as well as meatballs that Juri’s grandma used to make, is supplemented with three to seven specials. Dinner, however, is where Trattoria Sbandati sets itself apart from the competition and really shines. The restaurant offers a single weekly $50 four-course prix-fixe menu (available online at www.trattoriasbandati.com) paired with Italian wines. Instead of pouring over a menu and worrying about what you’re going to order, the evening starts with an offering from the chef, which on the evening my companion and I dined consisted of lovely, imported Italian prosciutto and mortadella, accompanied by housemade Schiaciatta bread brushed with olive oil.

Our official starter, Sfromato alla Gorgonzola, was my idea of heaven: a silky gorgonzola flan topped with micro greens served atop a gorgonzola cream sauce. A three-ounce glass of Vernaccia di San Gimigniano-Fontaleoni, a full-bodied white wine considered to be one of Tuscany’s oldest and finest, accompanied the starter.

Though handmade pasta most often stars as the next course, our meal featured a rustic winter bread stew pureed with cannellini beans, thyme, kale and other vegetables. My dining companion loved this traditional Tuscan dish, set off nicely by a small glass of light yet flavorful red wine. I’m still savoring (at least mentally) our main dish—succulent pork tenderloin wrapped in bacon and encrusted in a golden brown baguette. The tender pork contrasted delightfully with the crunch of the crusty bread surrounding it. And the intense flavors of ground juniper berries, rosemary and thyme played off the salt of the bacon and the sweetness of the meat and dots of port wine reduction.

The big black cherry fruit in the accompanying half-glass of Barbera wine tied it all together. A fluffy, tart Italian-style lemon mousse, topped with fresh lemon zest and served with a slightly sweet sparkling rosé, provided a perfectly splendid ending to a meal marked as much by the simplicity of its delicious food as by the family-style warmth of those who cooked and served it. I can’t wait to go back.

Baltazar's Seafood Extravaganza

by LINDEN GROSS, A&E Feature Writer
Amigo! Amiga! Como esta? It’s good to see you,” exclaims Baltazar Chavez, owner and head chef of the restaurant that bears his name, to patron after patron. Most are clearly regulars, the rest regulars in the making. In the three and a half years since Baltazar opened his upscale Mexican seafood restaurant, he has clearly garnered devoted fans.

The couple eating the Molcajete Mixto — a grilled seafood platter with prawns, halibut, marlin and a lobster tail — at a bar-side table comes twice a week. Seafood fans will understand why. “I grew up in Mazatlan, where I ate tons of seafood,” says Baltazar. “I still love it.” An appetizer special called La Concha, which he’ll make upon request, shows off the stars of his menu. Jumbo prawns, scallops and octopus are sautéed with mushrooms, al dente red and green bell peppers and Bermuda onions and then topped with Chihuahua cheese and broiled. Wow!

“These prawns are fresh, leaping off the plate,” says my dining companion. The scallops are tender and lovely. Even the octopus, which I don’t usually care for, is killer. The dish oozes butter, as if Julia Child had learned her craft in Mexico instead of Paris. On the entrée front, the Plato Mazatlan—creamy enchiladas, one stuffed with prawns, the next with Dungeness crab and the third with lobster—is a crowd favorite.

But my father can’t resist the Camarones al Mojo de Ajo, with its oversized prawns and mushrooms sautéed in butter, garlic and mild spices. That’s my choice as well, unless my carnivorous side kicks in. Then the Carne Asada, char-grilled seasoned skirt steak, lives up to every expectation and then some. Of course, there’s always the mole, which Baltazar’s mother Irma Chavez makes for the restaurant. The dishes, which are served with rice and black beans, may just be the largest in town. “People leave here in a food coma,” says bartender Tammy Johnson.

My life partner and frequent dining companion regularly split an entrée if we can agree on our order, or take home enough for lunch the next day. “We want to know that you get what you pay for,” says Baltazar. That’s an understatement. The restaurant also offers fourteen early bird specials from 4:30 to 6pm priced at just $14, as well as lunch when most entrees cost $10 to $11. Baltazar, who cooked with his mom as a child, shows off his passion for the sea as much with his menu as with his décor.

Loft-like ceilings, exposed duct work, and chocolate walls showcase an array of large bronze sculptures of sea creatures and palm trees. But that seafood focus is about to expand. Baltazar is planning a new menu—along with a new restaurant in an undisclosed city. All he’ll say about plans for his Bend establishment is that a streamlined menu will offer less expensive beef, pork, chicken, vegetable and, yes, seafood dishes that showcase the recent cooking classes he took in Mexico. “It’ll blow your mind,” he promises. I can’t wait.

Ariana: A Love Fest For the Senses and the Palate

by LINDEN GROSS, A&E Feature Writer
As young chefs Andres and Ariana Fernandez fell in love in the kitchen. Perhaps that—along with their prodigious talents—explains why so many have fallen in love with the Westside restaurant the couple co-owns with Ariana’s parents. Ariana Restaurant is so lovely that it’s hard not to be seduced before you even start eating.

The four owners overhauled the spot when they purchased it in December 2004, replacing the prior establishment’s décor with rich burgundy walls, a wide U-shaped bar, a fireplace, picture windows, and a back patio for dining al fresco during summer months. Turn down the lights and add in the gentle tones of Billie Holiday or Bossa Nova, and you’ve got one of the more intimate restaurants in town. And then there’s the Mediterranean inspired cuisine. Great chefs don’t just cook.

They prepare a feast for the senses, playing with flavors, textures, temperatures and making the food look like art. My dining companion and I would quickly find out that we were in the hands of such masters. We started with the Seared Beef Carpaccio. The delicate, wafer thin slices of raw beef tenderloin that covered the large square plate had been topped with truffle oil, grated Parmegiano Reggiano, scallions, and thin parallel lines of crème fraiche laced with horseradish.

The dish smelled as good as it looked, with the bouquet coming through in layers like a rich wine. My first bite confirmed just how well I’d chosen. In contrast to the crunchy bits of scallion and the crispy baquette toast points, the beef was so tender, it almost dissolved without chewing, while the truffle oil provided an earthy counterpoint to the bite of the horseradish.

My companion ordered the beet salad—another winner in which the sweetness of the chilled organic ruby and golden roasted beets marinated in a roasted shallot vinaigrette stood out against the peppery flavors of the watercress and the warm creaminess of the broiled Cypress goat cheese medallion on top.

Our main courses were equally outstanding. Though the bacon-wrapped wild king salmon was calling my name, I succumbed to the lure of the carmelized diver sea scallops over a risotto of wild prawns, Dungeness crab and calamari. Three crusty scallops, each larger than a golf ball and still translucent inside, rested on risotto that is my new definition of five-star comfort food. “Oh my God,” my companion murmured when I shared a bite. Luckily, he was too entranced with his herb crusted rack of lamb to want too much more.

Who could blame him? Each bite of lamb, depending on whether eaten alone or coupled with one of the accompaniments, was like venturing off on a whole new taste journey. A bite with the fire roasted pepper salad sent me to Santa Fe. Or was it Baja? The next bite with the olive tapenade had me in Provence. Dessert brought me right back home.

The pumpkin crème brulée tasted like a cross between rich custard, pumpkin pie and gingerbread. But the Chocolate Almond Bread Pudding stole my heart. The warm artisan chocolate custard-soaked bread was topped with so many sliced almonds that each bite provided gooey crunchiness. Add in the amaretto crème anglaise, and, in the words of my dining companion, “it’s orgasmic.”

Marz Attack

by LINDEN GROSS

A&E Feature Writer

Marz Bistro is the kind of place that’s easy to overlook if you’re not in the know. That’s a mistake. Marz may appear—and sound—like a bar, but its food tells the tale: it’s one of Bend’s top restaurants and one of the best deals in town. I can still taste the swordfish special I enjoyed there five months ago—it was twice as thick and tender as the portion served by a nearby tony restaurant and less expensive. My most recent trip to Marz was equally gratifying. After tasting my Prickly Pear margarita made with fresh fruit puree instead of syrup or juice, I wasn’t surprised to hear a young woman at the bar declare that she had spent the day thinking about Marz’ pomegranate margarita.

I’m sure it was every bit as tasty as mine. Before we even contemplated ordering our main course, my dining companion and I split a napoleon of tender grilled shrimp, fried wonton and Napa cabbage bean sprout slaw that marries sweetness with a mild horseradish burn of wasabi soy vinaigrette. Wow!

We decided to pass on the meaty Asian Baby Back Ribs since we’d just had those at a party catered by Marz. Instead we snacked on an appetizer special of arepas—finely ground cornmeal cakes stuffed with jack cheese, pan seared and topped with tomatillo sauce, applewood smoked bacon, cilantro and queso fresco. From our perch at the bar, we watched other diners’ entrees leave the kitchen and made notes of the dishes we’d be returning to sample.

Topping the list: the Rib Eye topped with the compound butter du jour, the monster-sized pan seared halibut rubbed in coriander and brown sugar, and the Churrasco Steak. To be honest, the chicken and waffles dish didn’t tempt me, but my dining companion sure was intrigued. By the time our Seafood Stir Fry arrived, I was ready to dive in. Served in a bowl the size of a pith helmet, scallops, shrimp, salmon, halibut, bok choy and pieces of pineapple swam in a red curry coconut milk broth spicy enough to make my nose run. In a town where fish and seafood are routinely overcooked, these were simply perfect and perfectly delicious.

We rounded out dinner with a small plate of beef tenderloin and thick cut bacon topped with gorgonzola—three of my favorite things—served with micro greens, tomato caper relish and crostini. We didn’t need the extra food, but I’m sure glad we indulged. Though Marz has been around for ten years, Matt Davis—a caterer from Philadelphia with zero restaurant experience and an itch to snowboard and mountain bike—bought it just three years ago.

The restaurant’s longtime chef, Rich Hall, continues to add new dishes every three months when he revises the menu, but Marz’ style remains unchanged. “Marz has been around ten years. We’re a culinary mainstay in downtown Bend,” says Davis. “The worst thing I could do was try to gum it up.” He sure hasn’t done that. Whether visiting an old favorite or discovering Marz for the first time, get ready for a taste treat that’s out of this world.

CHOW Time

by LINDEN GROSS
A&E Feature Writer

Most top restaurants focus their menus around a food philosophy. Chow focuses its food around a life philosophy. “CHOW is simply about food and wine,” says chef and owner David Touvell, who started working in a sustainable organic bakery when he was just nine years old and has since worked for Mobile 5-star and James Beard award-winning restaurants, and as a consultant for over thirty more eateries.

“We are a sustainable business and our approach to food, wine, business, and most importantly, our community is the same—keep it simple and let true and intense flavors show simply.”

What does that mean? Walk through CHOW’s front door, look to your left, and you’ll see a blackboard listing all the local farms and businesses Touvell buys from. That means that in addition to supporting our Central Oregon community, his ingredients are delivered fresh daily. Indeed, that’s what CHOW—and its food—is all about.

My lunch companion and I started our meal on the restaurant’s outside deck with a refreshing sampler of drinks, including Hibiscus soda, Kombucha (a probiotic health tea from Townshend’s) that they served plain, as well as infused with pomegranate, and a light and downright quaffable Lime Rickey made with local gin, key lime juice and soda.

That last one gave me new fodder for my summer cocktail arsenal. Then the feast hit. I had wanted to try a variety of CHOW’s offerings, and boy did they accommodate. Since CHOW serves breakfast and lunch, we started with eggs and one pumpkin, ginger and fresh blueberry pancake. The pancake was delicious, and I don’t even like pancakes that much. The eggs were even better, perfectly poached and served three ways—over crispy herb polenta with spinach and roasted pepper hollandaise, over a corn cake topped with avocado, roasted jalapeño, hollandaise sauce and queso fresco, and my hands down favorite, over a pan-fried tomato rolled in corn meal and topped with sautéed spinach, bacon and béarnaise sauce.

“Oh my god, that’s good!” I exclaimed. The delicate micro greens on each dish, which this time included tender and slightly peppery pea shoots, capped the taste parade. We moved on to lunch with an appetizer of heirloom tomatoes over melted fresh mozzarella served on flatbread crostini and drizzled with a balsamic reduction. The pasta of the day followed—cappelletti tossed with mitake, shitaki and button cap mushrooms from the farmer’s market, garlic, green onions, queso fresco, lemon zest and extra virgin olive oil. Yum! It never even crossed my mind to ask for parmesan, which has to be a first.

We sampled two more offerings from the lunch menu, along with a virgin Bloody Mary that’s lighter—and even healthier—than usual due to freshly squeezed carrot, celery, garlic, jalapeno and tomato juices. The stuffed red pepper with rice, almonds, feta, raisins and herbs made me feel like we had suddenly jumped from the middle of Oregon to the Middle East. The combination of textures and sweet and salty flavors makes the dish a standout. But the salad with fried queso fresco, pumpkin seeds, grapes dressed in smoked chili vinaigrette really knocked my socks off.

By then we had eaten so much fabulous food that I figured one or two refreshing bites of salad would be plenty. I love salads, but really, just how memorable could one be. Pretty darn memorable, it turns out. My lunch date and I ate every last field green (picked fresh every morning). “That’s excellent,” said my companion, a spicy food aficionado. I agreed wholeheartedly. We ran out of time—and room—for dessert, so naturally I took one home. The almond cake topped with sage and orange cream challenged all my assumptions about sweets. I’m happy to say, I still have a few bites left. I could write that I’m sorry I can’t share my leftover dessert with you, but I’d be lying.

Joolz a Gem in
the Fine Art of Supreme Cuisine

by Linden Gross, A&E Feature Writer

Welcome to Joolz. Walk in the door and you’ll immediately be struck by the cumin and coriander laced aromas emanating from the kitchen. Close your eyes and you could fool yourself into thinking that you’ve been transported halfway around the world to Lebanon. You couldn’t possibly be in Bend anymore, where diversity is defined as the color of your Subaru.

That feeling is confirmed on my first bite of the Cyprus prawn appetizer – three perfectly cooked tail-on prawns served in a citrus, saffron and lightly spiced tomato broth, layered with a hint of smokiness from roasted peppers and salty creaminess from the feta crumbled on top. The roasted cauliflower appetizer served with a lemony tahini sauce had my dinner companion, a lifelong cooked cauliflower hater, reaching for thirds, fourths and beyond. He also snagged a second helping of the seared Halloumi cheese, served with sun dried tomato and olive caponata, fried capers and a fig balsamic reduction.

“You get the sense that this is the real deal,” he said between bites. “This is authentic.” That proved just the start of Joolz’s jewels. This welcome addition to the local culinary scene does more than bring high-end Middle Eastern cuisine to town—it gives it a high desert twist, witness the elk hummus appetizer, a traditional plate of hummus and pita topped with delicious pieces of roasted elk.

“I could inhale these starters if I didn’t know that more was coming,” my companion said. Good thing he held back. More did come, in the shape of chicken kebabs marinated in sumac, lemon and garlic, and lamb kebabs marinated in fresh herbs and pomegranate vinaigrette. Both define the words tender and tasty. The hands down winner of the evening, however, was a weekly special that deserves a starring nightly role on the menu—braised leg of lamb atop white bean cassoulet served with minted yogurt sauce and toasted almonds. The mélange of East and West flavors still has me guessing … and wondering how soon I can go back for more.

Ditto for scrumptious desserts, which are all made in-house. Joolz’s East-meets-West theme is carried out in the restaurant’s décor, which reveals both warmth and a sense of humor. In the welcoming entrance, you’ll find a set of deer antlers draped with a traditional Arabic scarf and wood carvings of camels. Move into the restaurant adorned with bright lengths of cloth and traditional Lebanese hanging lanterns, and you’ll notice on your right paintings that include a cowboy plate of spaghetti (an ode to the spaghetti western I’m guessing), a cow and a revolver, which contrast mightily with the traditional Lebanese artifacts to your left.

The restaurant’s interior reflects the casual friendliness and skilled background of its owners. Ramsey Hamdan, who taught at Portland’s Western Culinary Institute for 12 years before fleeing to Bend in search of some sun, was born and raised in Lebanon until the age of 21. He and his wife Julie opened the renowned Jackalope Grill in 2001 before selling it three years ago and started their Barking Squirrel catering company, which they still operate. The professionalism gained during those years is reflected in this new restaurant’s service. Our servers made us feel like they had all the time in the world for us even though the place was packed. By the time we left, we felt like we had become part of the Joolz family. “This is thrilling,” my dinner companion said as we ended our gastronomic adventure. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

From A to Zydeco, This Restaurant Rocks

by LINDEN GROSS, A&E Feature Writer

A restaurant’s success gets scary when growth potentially threatens to undermine what made it great in the first place. So it was with excitement and some trepidation that I heard of five-year-old Zydeco’s relocation to the spot on Bond Street recently vacated by the ill-conceived Volo. For starters, there’s a lot of there there, especially compared to Zydeco’s former modest, boxy digs adjacent to a car dealer lot. And then there’s the cold look that so defined Volo.

But what a difference a little (okay, a lot) of sweat equity and vision can make. In a matter of weeks, Zydeco owners Cheri and Steve Helt put their unmistakable stamp on their new space. They stripped the tables and wainscoting that had been painted black back to the natural wood. The upholstery and fabric wall panels now sport earth browns and greens, and natural accents further help the transformation from urban industrial to warm, comfortable chic. So far so good, I thought. But could Zydeco’s friendly, solicitous service measure up in this larger restaurant? It did. The staff acted as if they’d been in the space for years instead of weeks, with not even a hiccup displayed. I began to gain confidence.

The true test, of course, would be the food. So my companion and I ordered our favorite appetizer—the Barbecue Shrimp—along with a house “calling card” we’d never tried. The Acadian Flatbread came out first, and was nothing like I expected from its name. Flatbread to me means dry Swedish crackers—I love them at home, but they wouldn’t be what I’d order in a restaurant. This flatbread, however, is comprised of all the best parts of a pizza without all that dough.

For our three ingredients that would top the hand-rolled cracker-break and Monterey jack cheese, we chose sugar-cured bacon, roasted onions and olives. All I can say is wow! The sweet and salty flavors hit my palate, rolled around with the melted cheese, and had me rolling my eyes in sheer pleasure. The honey tones in the Evolution Sokol Blosser chardonnay that Cheri had selected to go with the appetizer only added to the enjoyment.

The smoky Barbecue Shrimp lived up to its predecessors, with a sauce that still has me guessing. “It’s like a spicy Cajun caramel,” said my companion. I’m not sure I agree, but I don’t have a better description. “So is your homemade Worcestershire sauce in there?” I asked Cheri, trying to weasel even a little information out of her. “There are a lot of homemade sauces in there,” she countered. She’s probably one heck of a poker player. Our main courses met the high bar set by the appetizers and then some.

Though the sesame-encrusted Ahi served over citrus coconut sticky rice special sounded great, I went for the Grilled Redfish after a debate that proved just as difficult as usual. Though I’m quite the carnivore in most restaurants, at Zydeco I always debate between the Pan-Roasted Steelhead with the lemon-caper sauce and the Grilled Redfish topped with Zydeco sauce and Dungeness crab meat. If I could order both, I would. Unfortunately for me, my dinner companion’s entrée—the charred Rustic Ribeye, rubbed in the restaurant’s own housemade spice blend and served with grilled shrimp—was just as heavenly as my fish. “Top ten steaks of my life,” said my mate.

I had to agree. Yup, decision-making at Zydeco has just gotten more challenging. As we savored our meals, along with the Share Cropper Pinot and Educated Guess Cabernet that Cheri had selected for our respective dishes, we couldn’t help looking over at the table next to ours where the Roasted Wild Mushroom Tenderloin had just been served. I prevented myself from asking for a bite (not exactly kosher with strangers). “This is fantastic,” she raved when she spotted our less than subtle gazes. “But do you ever come here on weekends?

They usually have a wild boar special that’s unbelievable!” With only half our entrées eaten, we finally gave up any pretense of finishing our dishes and asked to have them boxed (but only after I’d carefully spooned the remaining sauce onto my fish so not a drop would be wasted). Since we were celebrating a birthday, we had to order dessert. The dense cake, made with French chocolate (Callebaut for all you super foodies), was served with dried cherries macerated in brandy and a variety of spices. Lovely. Delighted that one of my favorite restaurants was going stronger than ever in its new incarnation, I asked Cheri why she, a Michigan native and her New Yorker husband, Steve, had decided to open a Cajun restaurant. “They’re passionate about their food and so are we,” she replied. “And we’re not afraid to season.”

Mighty, Mighty Brickhouse

by LINDEN GROSS, A&E Feature Writer

I settled onto my barstool at Redmond’s Brickhouse, ordered a glass of wine from the seventeen available options, and glanced at the person to my right. He was eating the Filet Mignon wrapped in bacon, which is served with béarnaise sauce. “I’m trying to restrain myself from jumping you for your steak,” I said. “You’d jump me for a steak?” he asked with unmistakable surprise. That’s when I realized that I had misspoken. I wasn’t interested in jumping him in the least. I just wanted to jump his meal. To grab it and run. Instead, I watched as bite by bite, he finished what has to be the best steak in the Bend area. If you’re drawn to good food and good wine, the Brickhouse should be front and center on your restaurant radar. My recent sampling of the restaurant’s offerings will make my case.

My culinary tour started with large pan-roasted mussels blanketed in a spicy, sweet red curry, coconut milk, ginger and lemongrass sauce. Divine. I would have licked the bowl had I not been in public. The seared sahimi grade Ahi, crusted with black and white sesame seeds and served with a wasabi vinaigrette and ponzu sauce, rated just as highly. The tuna tasted as if it had just come off the fishing boat. That’s probably because owner Jeff Porad insists on small, daily seafood and fish deliveries.

“I want to make sure we run out every night,” he says, admitting that being a stickler on that front probably stems from his ten years working in some of seafood hub Seattle’s top restaurants. My gastronomic journey continued with a simple Caprese Salad. On a day when falling rain was about to turn to snow, the tri-color (yellow, green and red) heirloom tomatoes layered atop fresh mozzarella and basil gave me a welcome taste of summer.

The Colossal Sea Scallop that came next was like nothing I’d ever experienced. For starters, it was three times the size of a regular scallop and at least ten times the size of a bay scallop. Pan seared and then oven roasted, it was served translucent in a beurre blanc (butter and white wine) sauce. Though the entrée, which features three of these giants, isn’t on the menu, it’s featured as a special most nights. The Brickhouse may have a reputation for great steaks and chops, but the star power of this restaurant’s fish and seafood had become crystal clear. But why choose between land and sea when you can opt for the ultimate surf-and-turf champion—the Filet Oscar.

Think beef tenderloin that you can almost cut with your fork, topped with big chunks of Dungeness crab, al dente asparagus, and béarnaise sauce, all on a bed of perfectly sautéed spinach. No wonder it’s the restaurant’s top seller. Talk about a party in your mouth! My feast had rendered me immovable, but I didn’t care. The Brickhouse is one of those rare places that makes me just want to sit back and relax. Maybe it’s the exposed brick walls that remind me of Merenda’s minus the din. Or the wine cellar that earned the Award of Excellence from the Wine Spectator magazine in 2008 and this year’s Award of Unique Distinction from the Wine Enthusiast magazine.

You’ve got to love a place with a wine list thirty pages long, which still highlights thirty-eight options for wines under $30. As a former bar manager, I know I’m drawn to the bar toward the back of the restaurant, with its rolling library ladder for reaching bottles on open shelves as high as the restaurant’s fourteen-foot ceiling. But maybe, just maybe, what makes the restaurant work so well in addition to its stellar food is the unpretentious, warm atmosphere, and an owner and staff who manage to be as professional as they are friendly.