STEAK AU POIVRE IS STAGING A COMEBACK

At Le Clown, the French pop-up from St. Jack alumnus John Denison, a past steak preparation came as a two-plate dish: A crock of silken whipped potatoes surrounded a marrow bone filled with demi-glace, while the other plate supported a sliced culotte drenched in a rich peppercorn sauce, topped with a scattering of microgreens.

There was a time when steak au poivre was inescapable. Peppercorn-encrusted steaks, drenched in a sauce bolstered with brandy or sherry, became a staple within both the American celebration restaurant and the French bistro. Over time, however, its presence on contemporary menus in Portland dwindled, reduced to a potential sauce option at various steakhouses. However, the quintessential French dish is beginning to re-emerge in Portland restaurants beyond the typical bistro, including versions that tweak the traditional.

Historians and steak experts like Francis Marie trace steak au poivre’s roots back to 19th-century Normandy, a dish served in the region’s bistros — although many chefs have tried to take credit for its invention. Restaurant Albert owner Émile Lerch is perhaps the most famous claimant, saying he founded the dish on the Champs-Élysées in 1930. It appeared on menus throughout the 20th and 21st centuries in Portland, at places like Bistro Agnes and Little Bird Bistro.

However, Portland’s infatuation with French fare has generally faded with time, despite a nationally rekindled attraction. Both of the aforementioned Portland French restaurants closed within the last decade, as well as longstanding French destination Paley’s Place and shorter-lived ventures Alouette and Frog & Snail. While places like Le Pigeon remain Portland culinary royalty, traditional French restaurants haven’t had the same success here.

“In New York, there’s this huge French dining machine,” says chef Gabriel Pascuzzi, the Top Chef contestant and owner of Slabtown wood-fired restaurant Mama Bird. “French was hot for a second [in Portland], and then a couple of restaurants closed.”

Instead, French culinary inspiration seems to have popped up at other restaurants with looser definitions. At Mama Bird, for instance, Pascuzzi serves everything from Filipino sisig to green curry salmon, utilizing the restaurant’s distinctive wood-fired grill. The restaurant opened with a more singular focus: pineapple brined and grilled chicken, served with a handful of produce options and grits.

But in August Pascuzzi shifted the restaurant’s menu, incorporating several old-school classic dishes like steak tartare and bananas foster. Included among the additions: wagyu teres major au poivre, rubbed in a blend of green, white, black, and pink peppercorns. For the sauce, the chef uses the braised oxtail jus from his companion restaurant, Tip Top Burger Shop, for a demi-glace. To him, these dishes not only attract nostalgic diners; they teach his team some crucial culinary foundations.

“Old school is new again because no one knows the French techniques anymore,” Pascuzzi says. “Fewer cooks go to culinary school, which I’m fine with — that’s smart, it’s really expensive — but how else do you learn those techniques?”

Like Pascuzzi’s oxtail demi-glace, the au poivre at downtown Portland’s Toki came about as a way to utilize common ingredients among restaurants. Chef de cuisine Seiji Fujiki, who previously spent time at Portland’s Afuri, joined the team at Toki at the beginning of the year; he wanted to use the whole animal butchery program at Toki’s sibling restaurant, Jeju.

Fujiki makes his au poivre with a rotating cut of meat, depending on what’s available; to match the general vibe of the restaurant, he uses Sichuan peppercorn in his au poivre, alongside the black and green. The chef likes the way the Sichuan peppercorns add a “buzzy mouth feeling and lemony flavor” to the sauce. “We don’t lean too far into making things too traditional by any means,” Fujiki says. “It’s a little bit more playful.”

Obviously, the revamped classic is nothing new in Portland, but it appears the city’s chefs are returning to the French culinary canon for inspiration. Pastas drenched in brown butter have appeared on several Portland menus, including places like Tartuca and Arden. Canard, which has always approached French cuisine extremely loosely, now consistently offers straight versions of standards like steak frites. And soubise is landing on plates of scallops and halibut across town. Who knows — maybe it’s time to open a straight-up bistro once again.

2024-04-23T18:31:19Z dg43tfdfdgfd