Linger

HOW WILL FUTURE GOURMANDS of Portland view our current era’s
sandwich glut? Will they see it as a product of lean times,
necessitated by a faltering economy and increased thrift? Will they see
it as a golden era, when Portland was the best place to get stuff
between sliced bread? Or will they see it as a brief, amusing trend?
Who can say? I only know they’ll be jealous. We are lucky enough to be
witnesses to the rise of the sandwich—and oh how delicious it
is.

Portland has a sandwich shop for every taste: Bunk offers straight
from the hip, grubbin’ hand meals, Meat Cheese Bread presents ingenious
and innovative future favorites, and Kenny and Zuke’s wheels out
beautiful classic American meat monstrosities. Then there’s Evoe on SE
Hawthorne, completing the pantheon with sandwiches that exhibit rustic
crusty élan of the most mannered sort.

Evoe is a dangerous place to lunch. On a bright day at the end of
winter, the small space is full of light, the stools surrounding the
butcher-block counter are irresistible, and the air is full of the dank
musk of meat and aged cheese. Once you’ve eased your way through a
glass of wine and a muffuletta sandwich—with its crackling crust
and deeply savory interior of mortadella, ham, provolone, and olive
salad—you may glance up from your book, check the time, and find
you’re an hour late returning to work.

It’s easy to linger at Evoe. Chef Kevin Gibson approaches his
selection of sandwiches, salads, and snacks with deliberate measured
ease, and the unhurried atmosphere allows the world to be reduced to
watching a slow trickle of passersby on the sidewalk outside.

Evoe’s menu begs to be savored. Why rush the Gallego, a sandwich
composed of anchovy and a timidly spicy accompaniment of chopped fennel
and red peppers on Grand Central ciabatta? The Speck sandwich—a
combination of smoked prosciutto, asiago, arugula, and mustard on
house-made focaccia—also deserves time to experience the mustard
and arugula complementing the subtle smoke of the prosciutto.

These are simple sandwiches, and in their simplicity tend toward
balance. Let’s face it; the French know a good thing when they taste
it, as reflected in the Parisienne, a classic crusty baguette beauty
with ham, mustard, and brie. Simplicity is also present in the
selection of salads. In one instance, endive, hazelnuts, skinny sticks
of ripe pear, and chunks of blue cheese are tossed to create a light
salad that’s bright and nutty.

The star of Evoe’s menu is the charcuterie plate, a visual delight
of diversely textured cured meats, pickled veggies, and
pâtés that are perfect on the palate. The rabbit rillettes
are smoother than others, but still quite good. The selection of
pâté is delightful, as is a white ribbon of lardo that
melts slowly on the tongue. However, the standouts of the cured meats
are the thin slices of salami from Seattle’s much-loved Salumi.

The staff is friendly and adept at suggesting wine pairings, but can
be a bit too laidback—if you’re in a hurry, this is not your
lunch spot. Evoe’s made for folks with time to spare. And only time
will tell, but I suspect those future Portland gourmands are likely to
regard Evoe as one of Portland’s sandwich shop grand jewels.