(Photos courtesy of One Stop Writing Shop)
“Oh no! We’re in trouble,” my friend and trusty restaurant review companion exclaimed after her first bite of The Hudson’s smoked pork belly appetizer. Think melt-in-your-mouth fatty goodness balanced with frisée, compressed persimmon and, as the menu says, “crunchy things.” We had started the meal with an amuse bouche of albacore drizzled with XO sauce in a nasturtium leaf, topped with Greek caviar and a purple borage flower. The chef then sent out potato croquettes with Ostera caviar and a lemony, charcoal aioli, followed by coal-kissed albacore with yuzu kosho dashi, compressed watermelon radish, burnt scallion ponzu, and microgreens grown in the restaurant’s atrium just off the open kitchen, which added their own very clear note to this sublime concert.
Chef George Morris, the genius originally behind Bos Taurus and now The Hudson, has always been brilliant at layering texture and flavor. “This is so much great!” I murmured, so overcome that I was clearly no longer able to speak English. And we hadn’t even made it through the starters.
I wouldn’t have ordered the wagyu beef tartare, afraid that it would be too fatty to eat raw. Wrong! The minced meat with finely chopped purple onion, vibrant roasted chilis, pine nuts, and a sous-vide egg yolk is a far cry from the standard tartare, yet the beef’s flavor still shone through.
The wood-grilled Caesar was another scrumptious surprise. You could really taste the char on the lettuce, but the romaine still maintained its sweet crispness even against the creamy anchovy-laden dressing and peppercorn crunchy bits, the Chef’s take on chili crisp.
I’d had my eye on the baby beet and Asian pear salad with candied hazelnuts from the outset, though I was afraid it might prove too sweet. Nope! The earthiness of the beets, the sweetness of the pear, and the Dijon vinaigrette with a hint of maple balanced perfectly with the tang of Rogue Creamery’s smoked blue cheese.
The Hudson bills itself as “a live-fire chophouse,” so we clearly had to try a steak. Chef Morris spoiled us with an A5 Hida New York, celebrated for its sweetness, and umami. He actually brought out the raw wagyu cut to show us the insane marbling. It was so tender, it tasted like a steaky custard, with a crusty sear that I aspire to pull off on my more pedestrian steaks at home.
The delicious fun and games continued with a brined half chicken served with poblano and hazelnut romesco and a burnt lemon; addictive Piopinni mushroom tempura with Meyer lemon and creamy black truffle aioli; and tender scallops with apricot chutney, sweet-and-spicy piquillo pepper paper, and maple XO sauce. A layered, cake-like tiramisu and banana pudding with brûléed bananas and Nilla Wafer, candied hazelnut, toffee crumble topping nearly finished us off since we couldn’t stop going in for just one more bite.
Did Bend really need another high-end steakhouse? It turns out the answer is a hell yes!