What immediately comes to mind when you think of Portland’s food scene? Is it the ubiquitous food carts, the nationally lauded restaurants, the abundance of craft beer and doughnuts? It’s all of those things, certainly, but when I think of our food culture, I think community.

It’s the restaurant owners who have helped each other out in the post-pandemic landscape, pooling resources, opening their kitchens to food carts during inclement weather, or hosting up-and-coming chefs with their fledgling pop-ups. It’s the loyal customers who contribute to GoFundMe campaigns when a restaurant is a target of vandalism or a staff member needs help covering a medical procedure. Essentially, it’s folks asking, “What can we do to help?” or simply saying, “We’ve got your back.”

It’s farm-to-table cuisine, but not just the tired trope or trendy fad. The chanterelles, radicchio, or strawberries that show up on our restaurant plates are there because people—chefs and cooks and farmers—have forged connections to make it so. And there’s more invisible connections at play. Behind the scenes, cooks you will probably never meet in person had a hand in nourishing you with a meal. That meal may be memorable enough that you bring it up in a conversation with a friend, recommending that they go try the food.

In trying times, being in community becomes more necessary than ever. With food, we’re able to gather around something comforting. We find common ground when we break bread with people. Food can also be our power. We can help our neighbors and fellow community members by sharing our bounty.  

For our food issue, which we’ve titled “Food is Community,” we’ve gathered stories that capture some of the fascinating microcosms within Portland’s culinary scene. 

We head out to St. Johns, where a trio of restaurants run by Tri-State expats have formed an informal enclave for other former East Coasters (now you know where to go if you’re looking for a place to watch the Eagles game or score some Taylor ham). Or perhaps you’re looking for some tranquility and to get out in nature. You may be asking how that relates to food exactly, and we’ll tell ya all about it—the popular Kerns torta shop GĂŒero runs a birding club! 

Our Andrea Damewood has a carb-loaded roundup of microbakeries that are selling baked goods right from their home kitchens. We chatted with Mama ĐĂșt chef Thuy Pham about food sovereignty and her work with the food equity nonprofit Growing Gardens. Plus, we take a look at how the highly anticipated James Beard Public Market will foster community in myriad ways. 

There’s a lot that’s scary and uncertain right now. And we won’t fix it all with a bowl of soup, but maybe we can start there. 

So grab a seat and dig into our food issue—the table’s all set.

Janey Wong
Food Editor