DIVERSION/PDX: JACKRABBIT

A Jackrabbit seems like on of the animals with just enough quirk and outdoorsiness to live up to Portland standards.  But while this Jackrabbit isn't all that weird, it has loosely modernized surf 'n turfed up menu with a fair share of cheffy oddities, like pig's ears and heads, along with "S&M"..... Shells and Meats, in this case, showcasing daily oyster specials and charcuterie complete with "untraditional garnishes."  So there is a palpable cheekiness in circulation, but a sense of normality stems from two difference factors: it is located in a hotel (The Duniway), which is usually grounding, and the chef is a familiar name- Chris Cosentino, from San Francisco.  And while my sister says he has
 diminished some of NorCal presence, he wasn't in the kitchen the night of my visit, either, nor (according to our chipper server) is he very often, if ever.








Jackrabbit is dark and kind of barny inside, fairly simply laid out but for a few rabbit tchotchkes here and about, and a large, handsome iron sculpture of heavy twists of vines and roses that was suspended above our table. A vast bar dominates the front room, with more real estate than the dining room, reflecting the heavy influence of local beers, wines and gin-centric cocktail menu.  No open kitchen here; in fact, I couldn't even tell you from where the food arrived, but when it did, nothing wasn't really, really solid.

Service is casual, the whole atmosphere is a little hush-hushed and calm, but we were there on what was probably a pretty not-busy night.  Even so, service lapsed somewhat throughout the evening, but the informality allowed to occur fairly inoffensively.  And as long as I'm criticizing, I'll put it out there here that I'm not a huge fan of "How is everything tasting?" but that inquiry presented itself a minimum of three times .  "How is everything?" is absolutely sufficient.  But at least they were checking, and the answer was always a sincere thumbs-up.

We started with a simple frisée salad over fanned-out slices of roasted delicata squash, dripped with a richly reduced, sticky balsamic.   There was one other salad option (a simple lettuce and herb combo with a lemon vinaigrette), but otherwise starters tended towards the weightier side, like a beef tartare or grilled cheese, or else a selection from the Pastas & Grains that could be shared as a first course or easily substantial enough for mains. A section of the menu dubbed Daily Requirements offers just that, which works well as starters or sides.   Roasted cauliflower certainly had enough going on to hold its own, tender, nutty nubs of the brassica nestled into a lively smudge of
 harissa, then studded with meaty pistachios and  zippy rings of pickled onion.  Not reinventing the wheel here, but certainly ensuring a smooth ride.

The menu is fairly large, so it's maybe a little unfortunate that both my dining companion and I arrived upon the grilled halibut with the same level of enthusiasm, and in a rare blitz of holiday generosity, acquiesced to us both ordering the same entree.  While a  local stuffed trout with brown butter or roasted duck breast with celery root are other attractive options, nothing else sufficiently rivaled the halibut with its braised kale and kabocha, and big, sweet hunks of
 divinely mellowed shallot.  We took another Daily Requirement in the form at sautéed mushrooms, wild ones featuring an array of chanterelles, oysters and other species of fancier fungi.

The dessert menu made good on another Portland trend I recognized of late- the prevalence of carrot cake.  Jackrabbit's iteration came in the form of an accoutrement for the panna cotta, along with crumbles of black walnut and a novel carrot cider sorbet.  We tried the mascarpone cheesecake, a dense puck of ivory topped with cool, cider-poached apples and delightful shards of buttery puff pastry caramelized to a toffee-like crispness.  A grasshopper ganache featured fresh mint in its fudgy chocolate mint combo, and a cheese plate paired warm sticky fig cake with Beemster's gouda.

I'm a terrible joke-teller.  I have about three jokes in my repertoire, and only one of them really ever gets a laugh.  But it happens to be a silly little quip about cowboys, liquor, and the California Invasion into Oregon, a migration rabidly scorned by the natives in their rapidly overpopulating state.  But this interloper, Californian or not,  is welcome in my book.  As long as he doesn't bring all along too many friends.......

   






        830 SW 6th Ave
        Tel. 503-412-1800