Earl, Eric and Matt have a fine oiled machine in place at EEM, a Thai BBQ and cocktail joint whose name is their initials. A bit tricky to find on a hybrid residential/business stretch of North Portland sidewalks, you'll certainly know once you're there. At this point in the height of summertime as well as a devastating spike in Covid cases, Eem's dining operation is entirely outdoors:
you request a table outdoors, order, fetch your food, eat, and bus your own table all in the sheds constructed streetside of the actual restaurant itself, which now busies itself with food and drink preparation, and kind of a bunk for the staff hustling about to make this whole thing work.
They'll text you when your table becomes available, and it will be covered in audacious floral print vinyl. Menus are accessible via QR: I hesitate to say they are maybe being too Covid-cautious (because truly: is that possible?) but suffice it to say that pretty much every viable precaution is being taken here, and quite a few of them really diminished my dining experience, although you gotta take this kind of stuff in stride.
You either have to waltz back up to where you put your name in for a table, or order the whole shebang on your phone. I found this to be less than ideal, but the walk-up option was painless enough. Because we had some drinks before putting in our food order, it was easier for them to do the math at the register. Dubbed a Thai restaurant and cocktail bar, they definitely focus mixed drinks over the wines, although they scrounged up an off-menu Maker's, on the rock, for my dad, and there wine list .... well, it exists. We shared a nice enough rosé; a natural version with a bit of funk and slight effervescence, although nothing I'd come back for. Given that their list consists of a white, red, a sparkling and a rosé, you get what's offered. Probably a savvier choice would be one of those cocktails, and looking back, I definitely should have opted for an Aquaberry Dolphin with tequila, rhubarb, lemongrass and grapefruit soda, or an aptly named Shoulda Coulda Woulda, a strawberry-lime gin concoction zipped with chili and tamed with plant milk. Interesting.
You see, EEM is kind of rice-eaters paradise: it seemed to me that the point of the food is kind of saucing the rice, rather than holding its own. Now at this point, because of the whole outdoor-dining/Covid-restrictions scenario, all the food arrived at our table on a plastic tray like you'd get at a Denny's, or a hospital, for that matter. The utensils are individual packs of fork/spoon/knife/napkin in a little eco-baggy, and all the food arrives in plastic pint soup containers with complementary Chinese-takeout boxes of perfumed sticky rice.
were a garlicky delight, slicked in oil and deep green.... I think they were collards, if my recollection holds true. Many tables also sported baskets of fried chicken, which you could order half or whole orders, and with the brothiness of the curries, I wish we would've subbed one of them out in favor of some poultry. It looked divine, with a crinkly, crackly crust and just a gorgeous burnished hue.
No desserts on hand, so either treat yourself to a cocktail that you missed upon entry, as did I. Talk about Shoulda Woulda Coulda... there were a few elements of that sentiment throughout the meal. But for the most part, Eem is must more Gift than Curse (another of their kitschy tipples), especially at their very reasonable prices. That said, it's absolutely a casual grab-grub kind of destination than a fancy date-night one, so taper your expectations accordingly, at least until we can use proper metal utensils and not have to bus our own table upon finishing, which is a desultory way to end an otherwise fun and unique meal.
