What follows is one of the many articles in the Mercury’s 2026 Food Issue. Find a print copy here, subscribe to get a copy mailed to you here, and if you’re feeling generous and want to keep these types of articles coming, support us here.—eds.
Many of us dream about the day when women run the world, but until then, we’re going to have to settle for the sweet taste of Bar Nouveau.
I’ve followed Grey Potter around the city for the better part of a decade. I fell in love with her veg-forward, maximalist cooking style when she used just a few induction burners to put out revelatory creations at Oui! Wine Bar + Restaurant, in the former Southeast Wine Collective location. After that closed during the pandemic, Grey Potter turned her sights to a chili crisp company before resurfacing in the kitchen in spring 2025, running pop-ups of what would become Bar Nouveau from the former Gracie’s Apizza.
Now, she’s got a full kitchen to play with and a small team of cooks on the line, and her ambitions have scaled accordingly, though her signature items remain. One has not eaten a deviled egg, for example, until one has climbed the mountain of creamy piped yolks of Grey Potter’s gribiche deviled eggs, the richness offset by cornichons, capers, and minced herbs. Similarly, there’s going to be a mousse–usually chicken, most recently rabbit–on a thick rye sablé that’s so well-balanced that even the most skeptical liver naysayer will be silenced as they lick remnants off the plate.
The restaurant, lovingly remodeled for opening by Grey Potter and co. with the help of friends, is raucous, accented with fun thrift store finds and feathers, lending it a feel of being in your really cool girlfriend’s art deco house. Service starts with a shot-sized cosmopolitan or other cocktail, with n/a options for those who don’t partake.
Since opening, the menu has evolved with the seasons, with vegetables sourced from farmer’s markets and Sauvie Island. I’m yearning for the return of winter’s charred cabbage from Sauvie Island Growers, finished with a fermented pepper gastrique, sitting atop a bed of charred aubergine purée with a touch of tahini, French feta, savory granola, pickled habanada peppers, and finished with fresh dill. I challenge anyone to make a more exciting brassica.
If the pommes paillasson happen to be on the menu, make that happen. Like 1,000 layers of thin-sliced potatoes are cut into batons then fried in duck fat with a little lemon aioli for good measure. It’s rich, textural, and too much in the best way.
If it’s your first time (or fifth, tbh), I recommend letting the kitchen drive. Bar Nouveau recently launched a $65 prix fixe, which brings the chef’s choice of what’s good on the seasonal menu. Beloved Portland wine maven Dana Frank recently took over the wine list, meaning the $35 wine pairing is a steal.
On a recent visit, we tore into warm cloverleaf rolls, slathering them with butter and Oregon sea salt, before nibbling the lightest fried cod croquettes. Fresh spring lettuces were lovingly stacked and topped with first-of-the-season strawberries, accented by creamy goat cheese, tender shaved snap peas, and a delicate chardonnay-lemon vinaigrette. The only wrong turn came in the form of a ginger cucumber vichyssoise, and this was only because the allium content was so high in that chilled green soup that even Shrek might blanch.
Few do duck as much justice as Grey Potter, who is often tooling around with new iterations of her confit. It’s crispy on the outside, and yet somehow so tender on the inside that I’m not clear how the bone makes it to the table still inside the meat. Of late, it arrived with spring allium sausage, haricots blancs, leeks, lovage, and a snappy green garlic pistou. And flowers. Definitely, always, flowers.
I’ve always wanted to go to Bar Nouveau solo and have a girl dinner of my dreams: A martini, a salad, and chicken mousse, and then a dark chocolate pot de crème all to myself. Served in vintage glass cups, it’s layered with warm fudge and crème fraîche. Two monumentally long cinnamon langue de chat (cat’s tongue) cookies protrude like sugary antennae.
As your meal ends, your check arrives in an old bodice-ripper of a romance novel, meaning you’re getting some Fabio-type eye candy even if you skip dessert, just as the Goddess intended.
Bar Nouveau, 7425 N Leavitt, Thurs–Sun, 5 pm-10 pm, nouveaufoodandwine.com
