Jáce Gáce is the kind of ridiculous Portland
mash-up that causes tourists to use words like “artsy,” “unique,” and
“bizarre” when describing our city: The waffle stand/gallery/pub is
going the distance to keep Portland weird. The problem is, weird isn’t
always flavorful, even if it looks fantastic.
The first difficulty Jáce Gáce presents is how to
pronounce its name (I was told “yaw-say gay-say”). Therefore, it has
garnered a variety of nicknames. Patrons are encouraged to create their
own—”Fancy Flavor Hole,” anyone?
Once you’ve found “that waffle joint on Belmont,” there is a certain
wow factor upon entering. Part Tube, part Doug Fir, and part Pacific
Northwest College of Art, Jáce Gáce is slick, modernist,
curvy, and woodsy. It’s a lovely space, and the wafting scents of
cinnamon, sugar, and syrup are absolutely intoxicating.
A chalkboard presents Jáce Gáce’s
diminutive menu
of sweet and savory waffles. Unique combinations of
toppings—asparagus and curry cranberry cream sauce, in one
instance—are piled atop a “Brussels style” (AKA Belgian) waffle
made of either traditional or cornmeal batter.
I was pleased to note the selection of savory waffles. A waffle’s
characteristic divots (which increase surface area, allowing faster
cooking times and fluffy crispness) seem perfect for creating tasty
pools of savory goodness: Such reasoning led me to the grilled cheese
waffle, topped with tomato slices, honey mustard, and melted provolone
and Swiss cheeses. While waiting for my waffle, I wandered the gallery
space. I’ll leave it to my colleagues to critique the art, but it
seemed like a bunch of pretty stuff with very little flavor. This is
fine for art, being a subjective experience and all, but was unexpected
for my meal.
Wonderfully presented, the grilled cheese waffle lacked any real
flavor. The problem is that Swiss and provolone are two very subtle and
mutable cheeses. They melt and fill a waffle divot well, but they do
not have enough zest to stand up to the low flavor of the cornmeal
base. I’m sure the honey mustard was meant to counteract this, but it
was lost in the milieu, as were the tomatoes.
Another savory waffle experience at Jáce Gáce, the
huevos rancheros, was not much better. Again, the eggs, rancheros
sauce, and black beans looked beautiful, accompanied by a dollop of
sour cream and a fan of avocado. Again, there was little flavor. I had
a sense that the folks here just wanted the ingredients to speak for
themselves. Mine were saying, “Season me.”
Luckily, Jáce Gáce does excel with sweet waffles. The
tiramisu waffle is lovely, with light and creamy mascarpone custard
layered between traditional waffles and soaked in rum-espresso syrup
for a top-notch presentation and dynamic flavor.
The Three Sides, another sweet offering, is a traditional waffle
garnished with honey and walnuts, accompanied by Brie, apples, and
prosciutto. The flavors here work exceptionally well, and the
choose-your-own-adventure aesthetic of the dish is quite pleasing.
By applying an artsy twist to the waffle house with creative waffle
styles, Jáce Gáce ultimately winds up being a bizarre
experience, though not necessarily an unpleasant one. But until they
spice up their savory options, it’s best to stay on the sweet side of
the fancy flavor hole.