Foodie Gilt

THE GILT CLUB has had a quiet reputation as one of the better
places in Portland to find decent dinner options after midnight. While
not necessarily a foodie destination, the service industry discount, a
full menu served until 2 am every night, and thoughtful cocktails have
traditionally drawn a food-savvy downtown crowd.

Last July, the hiring of a new executive chef, Chris Carriker, set
off a PR blitz that caught my attention. In one mailing I received, a
photo of a rolling pin-wielding Carriker, in full kitchen garb, chasing
a herd of sheep through a field was juxtaposed beside an image of the
classy Gilt Club dining room. The caption? From farm… to table. Okay.
I’ll bite.

Carriker has had five months in the Gilt Club kitchen, so I’ll
assume that any revisions in the menu have been fully implemented. His
focus is on seasonal dishes divvied up among small plates, which can be
mixed and matched at a diner’s leisure. You can fill your table with a
variety of charcuterie and bite-sized goodies, or design a dining
experience of several courses that leads toward an entrée,
portioned small or big according to your preference.

There are interesting options on the menu. Some are downright
charming. For instance, the appetizer of elk tartare that is
essentially an excellent burger. Here we have a beefy, lean, elk
tartare—just slightly warm and well seasoned—that has the
lushness and freshness of a quality rare burger. Beside it, grilled
bread acting as de facto bun. A small, minimally dressed salad, a bit
of mustard on the side, and crisp duck-fat french fries complete the
experience.

Another charming option from the apps list are the ricotta fritters.
The fine dining answer to fried mozzarella sticks are expertly
prepared, and it’s difficult to imagine how one gets ricotta to behave
this way. The experience is like biting into a perfectly toasted
marshmallow—thinly crisped on the outside and oozy
within—the difference being the savor and slightly grainy texture
of the ricotta. The little ricotta balls have just enough structural
integrity to hold shape while being dragged through an accompanying
chili sauce, which adds needed zing to the muted ricotta cheese.

Moving from appetizers to small plates and charcuterie, the main
difference is price—small plates go for $5 each or three for $13.
Look to these items for late-night snacking.

The house-made rabbit and pork mortadella is a tasty, sophisticated
version of its bologna cousin. The wild mushroom bruschetta is far too
tame—I shoved the mushroom mixture aside so the crostini could be
used as an additional vessel for the killer chicken liver mousse. The
mousse is notable because it demonstrates Carriker is not afraid to use
bitter flavor to balance or add interest to a dish.

You find a hint of that bitterness in an entrée of grilled
sturgeon on top of pastrami hash. The bitterness cuts the fat and salt
of the hash very nicely, without being overwhelming. Unfortunately, in
its totality, the dish doesn’t really make sense. Here we have a fine,
tender, well-prepared sturgeon steak—it’s tasty on its own, but
not being aided or augmented in any way by a perfectly reasonable
pastrami hash.

Other entrées are better. The chitarra pasta is dreamy.
Everything is working in this dish: spice from red chili flakes, depth
from roasted mushrooms, and sweetness from bright little corn kernels.
Adding a “two-hour egg” gives the whole thing richness. “Like our
version of carbonara,” the server informed me.

Also among the entrées is the Gilt Club’s actual burger.
Usually made with black truffle and duck-fat roasted onions, mine had
plenty of the truffle but completely lacked onion. Some bitterness from
leafy greens was apparent, but I was sorry to miss the onion. I’d
passed on the option to stuff the burger with brisket and foie. Yes,
brisket and foie gras… stuffed in a burger, which just sounded like
overkill. Even for me.

Setting aside the fact that food has trouble reaching the table in a
timely manner—a problem with expediting, or in one case a server
with plate in hand chatting casually with the kitchen staff before
delivering the dish to the table—things at the Gilt Club are
going swimmingly. When you take the Gilt Club’s Anne Rice meets Donna
Reed atmosphere as read, the addition of Carriker’s expertise should
serve mostly to fill the high-backed red-leather banquettes with more
foodies snapping surreptitious camera phone pics well past midnight. I
assume that’s what the restaurant is looking for. After all, what
self-respecting foodie wouldn’t want to eat such decent food from a
chef who chases sheep with a rolling pin?