It’s as though we fell into a swamp of such culinary sludge in one of the nosiest establishments in Portland—our town with so many talented chefs at nearly every corner and intersection—that it was perfectly clear it wasn’t going to get any better. True, this is basically a lounge and bar with food. But even the churlish claims of comfort food barely cut the mustard. And inside it was so dark to the point of dreariness, we still trudged through five dishes—sharables—and pitchers, vats and tall glasses filled with tropical drinks that were anchored in more crushed ice than the defining liquor.
A drink at Restaurant 1
It was then, after consuming buckets of chips, dips, shellfish and blockbuster drinks, we all felt so ill-fed we unanimously concluded that it was time to leave and have a real dinner somewhere else. Our departure came after great expense since we drank more than we ate, and in a range of $6 to $14 per cocktail, the liquor tab can add up on top of the expensive platters of mushy food. This place had been so good when it first opened, with chefs who commandeered the kitchen with authority and inventiveness rather than the meh it has become.
Anadama bread at Scales
