Food from the Hearth

THE DINING ROOM looks like a cross between a hunting shack
and a woodshed, lit anachronistically by the soft glow of electric
chandeliers. There are heavy drapes, shelves made of unfinished boards,
grapevines wound around support beams, and ferns on the tables. A
forest-dwelling hermit distrustful of modern conveniences would be
comfortable here. Not just because the food is cooked with technology
no more profound than heat from a huge brick hearth, but also because
the restaurant bears the name of the anti-industrial folk hero Ned
Ludd. It was his battle cry, “Death to machines!” that became the
philosophy of the Luddite movement.

It’s unlikely the staff at the eponymous Northeast Portland eatery
holds such strict beliefs (the check isn’t carved into a shingle), but
they’ve set themselves an interesting challenge. My server assured me
that aside from the wood oven the only other cooking implement is a hot
plate used for boiling water.

After eating at Ned Ludd, it’s clear to me that cooking under the
fickle influence of a wood fire leads to certain limitations. There’s
the question of variety: The menu offers plenty of slow-cooked options.
There’s also the question of finesse. Take for instance the tasty and
rich shepherd’s pie. The stew-like mixture of late winter root veggies
and beef, topped with mashed potatoes, was well executed—the
vegetables cooked until just tender, allowing parsnip, fennel, and
carrot to remain firm, contrasting the tender meat. But it’s
traditional for shepherd’s pie to be browned, and here the potatoes
lack the light crust that adds both color and flavor. I suspect if it
had been left in the oven to brown, the dish would have turned to
mush.

Texture was a problem with the substantial stuffed pork shoulder on
pork belly hash. The flavor was very good, even excellent, but the
shoulder was too tough and the hash too mushy, creating a very odd (if
flavorful) combination in the mouth. My guess? A problem with divergent
cooking times between the dishes’ components.

Still, despite glitches there is evident skill and creativity on the
menu. The saucer-sized flatbread, rolled by hand, presented expansive,
lingering flavor from cumin and coriander seeds. The inside was steamy
and warm, while the outside was nicely toasted—like you’d expect
from the hearth.

I’m often compelled to order what sounds like the least appealing
dish on a menu. Here it was braised celery with capers, Dijon, jack
cheese, and hard-boiled egg. It took about three bites before it hit
me: I was eating what was essentially an inside-out egg salad. Unlike
the often-sloppy sandwich filling, the flavor here was frontloaded with
mellow celery tones, followed by the vinegar hits from the capers.
Paired with Dijon and a slice of the hard-boiled egg, the effect was
astounding.

There is potential at Ned Ludd. Just three months after opening, I
assume they’re still learning the quirks of their oven, slowly
fine-tuning and dialing in their technique. I suspect that as time goes
on, the food will continue to improve.

That being said, there is little else at Ned Ludd that needs
improving. The staff seems happy and genuinely excited about the simple
dishes they deliver to the table. It’s infectious. I for one can’t wait
to see how these culinary Luddites develop their menu and technique in
years to come.