Rare Beauty

BELGIAN-STYLE mussels frites are piled high in an earthenware
dish. Resting below a tumble of golden french fries, black shells
glisten and yawn, revealing glimpses of large, plumped, lightly
coral-colored shellfish. In the dish, the broth shimmers and steams,
sending up the fragrance of cippolini onion and Samurai Rice Ale. On
top, a dollop of white aioli has begun to settle down through the
layers.

I work through the flavors and textures: The soft briny meat of the
mussel follows the crisped and deeply terrestrial frite, and then dense
quartered skins of slightly sweet aromatic onion. Each time a mussel is
plucked from its shell another drizzle of liquor drips into the broth
below. Slowly I clear away the mussels to get to the broth, slurping it
with a courteously provided soupspoon.

This simple, rustic dish is representative of all that is good about
Laurelhurst Market: It’s straightforward and accessible, the portion is
large (easily shared with a dinner companion), and the textures offer
contrast while the flavors build to full harmony.

Butcher/charcuterie master Ben Dyer and Chef David Kreifels head the
operations at the Eastside neighborhood butcher shop and restaurant,
selling cured and uncured meat, pâté, and sandwiches by
day and firing steakhouse-inspired entrées at night.
Consequently, no matter when you go to Laurelhurst Market, you’re sure
to find happiness.

Though there’s a charcuterie plate on the dinner menu, many of
Dyer’s cured creations are best experienced in sandwiches. A bargain at
$4 for a substantial half, all of the options are
good—pistachio-laden mortadella on soft levain bread, porchetta
and crisp veggies on ciabatta—but some are amazing. Consider the
ham sandwich, combining thinly sliced ham, subtly fennel-toned
finocchiona salami, hot sopressatta that spreads pleasant warmth over
the palate, and aged provolone. With a liberal application of oil and
vinegar, crunchy shredded iceberg lettuce, and bright pepperoncinis,
this is a very satisfying sandwich.

“Satisfying” also aptly describes Laurelhurst Market’s dinner. Save
for some hiccups in service—an absent server on one occasion and
a disinterested bartender on another—there is little to improve
upon.

While the menu items range in cultural provenance, there is a focus
on steak and affordability. Steak frites arrive with a pile of perfect
french fries, a rich sauce to justify aggressive sopping, and a steak
selection that changes regularly. One evening, top sirloin was the
centerpiece; perfectly crusted on the outside, prepared medium rare to
order, the meat was flavorful, tender, and bested local steakhouses in
quality and in price ($13).

A grilled flat iron with chimichurri was a tad less tender, but
still sang beneath the Argentinean parsley and cumin condiment. At $21
it was still less than a flat iron at your average staid
steakhouse.

Peripheral menu items also demand attention at Laurelhurst Market. A
humble side of braised kale and bacon offered a hint of sweet alongside
the fullness of bacon and salt. A starter of piquillo peppers stuffed
with a halibut brandade (a light, fishy puree) was mind bending,
calling to mind the flavor of fresh coastal fish cakes and the textures
of sashimi simultaneously.

Also of note are roasted marrowbones. Though I’d have liked the
bread to be less rough on the mouth, a spread of marrow (imagine fat
with a beefier flavor) and pistou (basil, garlic, olive oil) was
absolutely pleasing.

With so much good coming out of the kitchen, don’t neglect the bar,
which is amazing in its own right. Of note is the Smoke Signal:
Tennessee whiskey (read: Jack Daniels), smoked ice, sherry, pecan, and
lemon. The effect of the combination was transporting. While I was
sitting in the bright, loud, packed dining room of the Laurelhurst
Market, my mind was suddenly on a farm in North Carolina on a cool,
gray, autumn afternoon. Smoke, savor, whiskey.

Soon after, the Belgian-style mussels frites arrived.