At this point, it’s become de rigueur for any new restaurant
that takes itself seriously to tout its reliance on local and
sustainable ingredients. This occasionally permits “feel-good” eating
(as opposed to “taste-good” eating), provoking such justifications from
the diner as, “Doesn’t it feel good to gnaw on this winter salad of
greens with the consistency of tarpaulin?” It’s true—Portlanders
live in a part of the world spoiled by a terrific climate for growing
food. Now every restaurant opening its doors smacks you square in the
gullet with this fact.
Upscale Mexican restaurant Trébol is no different. Former
Higgins sous chef Kenny Hill has taken the local philosophy and applied
it to his grandmother’s Oaxacan cooking. Upholding the tradition of the
cuisine is not the point here, and the menu has some adventuresome
twists. As a result, there are many things to admire about
Trébol. There are also more than a couple missteps, and some
unnecessarily haughty pricing.
Each meal begins with soft tortillas concealed inside a napkin,
accompanied by two kinds of salsa. The not-quite-warm tortillas are
bland and chewy, and pair better with the robust red salsa than the
anemic green one. Starters include the aforementioned green salad,
which should probably be avoided until more chewable greens are in
season. A plate of five empanadas stuffed with potato and chorizo came
with an excellent red mole sauce, but the smoky complexity of the mole
did not justify the plate’s $12 price tag.
Entrées were equally mixed. A daily special of pork cheeks
was absolutely fantastic, with rich succulent meat atop a hearty mix of
winter root vegetables; everything was cooked perfectly and each
ingredient complemented the others. A similarly themed stew of oxtail
and pork shoulder was not as successful, with too many uninteresting
flavors battling each other. The chicken and layuda (flatbread)
was more coherent and far tastier.
For refreshment, there’s a list of tequilas as long as your forearm.
The house margarita ($7) was weak in both flavor and punch, and not
worth the price, but the tamarind version was bold and sunny. Go during
happy hour, when the price drops to $4. A negligible wine list and a
couple Fish Tale Ales on tap round out the drinks.
Situated on the north end of the Mississippi strip, Trébol
has a tiny outdoor patio that could be great for happy hour in warm
weather. Inside it’s painted in deep yellows and reds; a TV hangs above
the bar. On one visit, surfing footage did nothing to lighten the
rustic severity of the room. But on another, the place was made more
festive by the lowbrow presence of a cheap B-movie starring masked
Mexican wresting legend Santo.
Trébol’s waitstaff was effective and friendly, if
occasionally enthusiastic to the point of seeming insincere. Each
server was clad in a Trébol T-shirt, and the check came with a
comment card more befitting a mammoth chain restaurant. These
impersonal touches give the place a sleek corporate feel.
Mexican fare can be both comforting and complex, humble and
ambitious. Trébol has many of these qualities, and the
restaurant’s focus on local and seasonal produce is laudable. Still,
let Trébol be a lesson to the restaurant scene at large: It
doesn’t matter how “feel good” your ingredients are when your product
is inconsistent and overpriced.