Republica Restaurant - Portland, Oregon
I’ll be brutally honest here: I usually get annoyed with restaurant staff if they end up haunting my table for a little too long. That’s not to imply that good service isn’t appreciated, but sometimes I just want to shovel the food into my mouth and not worry about the pleasantries and detraction of human existence. You know?
When the first dish came to my table at Republica, my waiter explained the ingredients in the dish, their significance, why they were culturally important in Mexico at the time, and why the chef chose to use ancestral Maíz. I was tempted to roll my eyes and think, oh god, I’m getting a history lesson when I just want dinner. Just let me eat my goddamn fooooood.
But you know what? It was unwarranted annoyance.
Mmm, ancestral Maíz.
Have you ever gotten stoned—like, holy fuck, how stoned am I?—and wandered out into the world at three o’clock in the morning only to end up at the only Taco Bell on your side of town so you can order a bean burrito and grande nachos and a giant cup of baja blast? Of course you have. Don’t even lie to me.
Well, if I could have this dish every time that particular circumstance occurs, I’d die a happy, happy man. Officially, the dish was called “maíz ancestral, frijolito, pasilla negro, queso fresco”. It was filled with warm, earthy, rich flavors—the usual suspects like cumin were laden through the dish. But this was like eating a super taco. Like a hundred super tacos. It was like the angels of taco deliciousness were tapdancing on my tongue. I wonder how many times I can say taco in one paragraph? TACO.
Albacore, pulpo, habanero, calçot — Or as I like to call it, absolutely fucking delicious.
I’m not going to subject you my review of every single dish that came with the ten-course tasting menu. That would be insane. Also, I’m just too lazy to write that much. Who am I, Stephen King? And the answer is, no.
But I will tell you about the above dish, because it was octupus, albacore, with a touch of habanero for the heat. This tasted pretty hard of the sea. If you’re a seafood person, this would be right up your alley. It was like an octopus was attached to my face. But, like, in a good way. I loved that the heat wasn’t overpowering, and was more on the backend so that you could fully enjoy the taste of the salt and rich flavors of the ocean. I would give this ten thumbs up.
Scallop, foie gras, strawberry, tobiko. That’s right. Strawberry and foie gras. You got a problem with that? Neither did I.
I love me some foie gras. And yes, before you send me the huge list of moral and ethical implications of foie gras, I’m well aware of them. There are a lot of moral and ethical implications in driving a car or voting Republican, but you don’t see me bitching about it to you, do you?
Anywho.
I’ve never had the austere pleasure of enjoying something so absolutely unique as a bugle with foie gras and strawberry inside. And no, it wasn’t actually a bugle. But c’mon. I wanted to suck the food from inside of this thing and put them on the ends of my fingers. My inner ten-year old self was dying to do so. If you love foie gras, and they have this dish available, I would highly recommend you take your time and eat slowly. The portion was on the small side, and I feel like the scallop wasn’t even necessary, to be perfectly honest.
To be fair, I love foie gras and just wanted to taste that. I’m guessing not everyone shares my opinion. It was good regardless, and I would have it again without hesitation.
Borrego, aji amarillo, morel, fiddlehead
This might have been my favorite dish of the night. Your mission, if you chose to accept it, is to eat the lamb while also trying to combine all the different elements on the plate to create your “perfect bite”. Up to the challenge? You fucking better be. There’s a lot going on there. Some elements were at once sweet, and others savory, spicy, aromatic, or otherwise. I mostly ended up using the yellow pepper sauce—seriously, this place knows how to make their sauces and reductions, they could make a killing just selling those—and adding it to the lamb and cutting off a piece of morel every once in a while.
Would I come back to Republica? Hell yes. Great food. With each dish, they come out and explain the ingredients and the significance of that particular ingredient within Mexican culture. Is that annoying? Nah. I didn’t think so. I tried to be annoyed, but it was too fascinating, and their spiel is really done in about 30 seconds. If you’re the type that just wants to move through the meal as quickly as possible, then you might have a difference of opinion on that part.
Overall, the waitstaff are incredibly attentive, kind, and didn’t once make me feel like I am the uncultured heathen that I am. Which is rather appreciated. The food was wonderfully inventive while also hitting a niche that doesn’t get hit a lot in Portland: fine dining Mexican.
There were a few misses in a few dishes—either because the heat was maybe too much, or there was a lot of acid when I was looking for something richer from the dish. But overall, I’d give the entire experience nine thumbs up. I’m eager to return.
The Portland Critic Verdict
Cost: A lot. $$$$. Be prepared to wash dishes. Especially if you have a date that likes to drink. Don’t ask.
Taste: 9/10 thumbs up.
Staff: 10/10 thumbs up. Would invite any one of them to a party just to see how they react.
Ease: It’s NW Portland, so parking is a complete bitch. That said, as long as it’s not raining—and it was when I went!—it’s a nice area to walk around. I mean, Powell’s is RIGHT THERE. You can have dinner, buy a few books, and get caught having sex in the rare books room of Powell’s. That said, ease is all about getting there and getting out, so I’d give it a 6/10 thumbs up. Fucking NW Portland, why do you forsake me?
If you have the inclination to visit Republica yourself, you can find them at:
Republica
100 NW 10th Avenue
Portland, OR 97209
https://www.mexico-forward.com/
