Inspired Laurels

[September 10th, 2003] When Simon and Garfunkel composed their ode to herbs, bay leaves were shut out by rosemary, thyme, parsley and sage. David Machado, who earned his laurels at several top Portland restaurants, has at last opened his own, and in the process he instantly becomes chef laureate of the east side.

Lauro, which means bay leaf in Italian, is by far Southeast Portland's most satisfying and exciting new restaurant, a place destined to have local and far-flung devotees for a long while.

It's easy to see why: The immense windows beckon and welcome passersby. Inside, Lauro seems casual and sophisticated at the same time, with its great wooden beams and a glistening open kitchen. With the no-reservation policy, you may have a bit of a wait, but it's a fine place to linger, have a drink at the long bar and soak up the buzzy atmosphere. A blood-orange light warms the room and encrimsons the handsome surrounding wood, while a large, open gas-fired oven of blue tile contributes to the radiance.

Above all, the Mediterranean cooking feels as authentic as Machado's Portuguese grandmother's traditional recipes, which the chef has appropriated and, cooking with convincing passion and culinary intelligence, made his own. Lauro's is an ecumenical cuisine, and the diversity of the dishes on the menu--from Greece, Italy, North Africa, France, Spain and Portugal--are more in harmony than corresponding global realities.

Among the best Portuguese choices is an appetizer of mussels and chourico (chorizo), served in a hinged beaten copper dome called a cataplana. This is Hispanic surf-and-turf, slathered in a chunky tomato broth with lots of onions and garlic. Calamari are a euro a dozen, but Lauro's are especially nice, slightly underdone and torched with a Portuguese "piri piri" sauce--originally African--composed of lemon juice and hot chilies. There's also a gazpacho cocktail, which tastes like a refreshing, dense Bloody Maria laced with shrimp.

Lauro also serves some of the best pizzas around--thin-crusted, flaky appetizers but large enough for two; the star is laden with shiitake mushrooms and Gorgonzola for a taste at once sharp and woodsy. I'm also a fan of chicken kebabs doused in Middle Eastern spices and bedded on an unusual salad of Italian parsley.

The most typical Portuguese entrée is a combination of tender pork chunks mingled with clams, roasted potatoes and red peppers. The briny liquor marries wonderfully with the meat, and the ensemble produces a heady aroma that captures the strong flavors of each ingredient.

The food served here has a rich, burnished appearance on the plate and delivers all the flavor that the picture promises. Gorgeous standouts include the chicken breast stuffed with goat cheese, dotted with pine nuts and raisins and intriguingly braised in a quince sauce, as well as an aromatic Moroccan tagine of chicken doused in olives and fragrant preserved lemons on a mound of crunchy couscous. The tagine, a stew of steamy meats and seasonings, arrives in a terra cotta deep dish, which locks in the aromas and keeps the chicken juicy.

A favorite among recent specials is the filet of sole perched on a cumulus cloud of puréed potatoes, a slight film of olive oil replacing the more usual butter, with a dice of tomatoes and olives lending an assertive ground to the mild fish.

Lee Posey's desserts are also beautifully crafted. The amazing, signature number is called a pudim flan. It's like no shimmering flan you've ever had, but an egg custard abundantly fortified with port, a marvel of lightness and caramelized creaminess at the same time. The frothy custard zabaione is elegantly served in a martini glass, while a lemon granita is the Platonic essence of tartness, cut only by a handful of blueberries that speckle the smooth ice. Normally in the summer I eschew chocolate, but the vibrant almond-chocolate gâteau is presented stone cold and showered with powdered sugar.

You could visit Lauro again and again without ever tiring of it. To use an expression favored by the French, it's easy to imagine I might happily make this place my
canteen.