You can always tell when a new foodie place is on the scene. It goes right to the papers, websites light up with commentaries, and there are lines as soon as they open. Think back to when Pine State Biscuits opened, or Country Cat Dinnerhouse.
The latest such entry is Cafe 401 (at 401 NE 28th), which is run by Morgan Brownlow, formerly of ClarkLewis. I say these things not because I know what they mean; I wouldn’t know Morgan Brownlow if he walked up to me (and he might have this morning at breakfast), and I have never eaten at Clarklewis.
But among the foodies of the world — people who, for example, get into a detailed discussion of liver — this was enough 411 to go check out 401 immediately. For the rest of us, articles in the Willamette Week (here) and Oregonian (here) did the trick.
The place doesn’t look like much from the outside, and it’s a bit strange — to me, anyway — inside. There’s a fireplace, which is nice, but it’s fake, and in front of it is a large, empty space of tile floor. I guess that’s for waiting on the weekends? The walls are covered with old Oregonian front pages, and beneath the counter is a wall of license plates. Oooo … kaaayy.
The menu is hand-written and pretty basic, except it has lamb fries. I didn’t know what those were, so I asked. Well, “lamb fries” are lamb testicles. Fried, I would assume. Well, I have eaten sheep’s testicles — and his brain, for that matter — and once, in a drunken fit, ate cow testicles, though I can’t recall what they tasted like. I did not attempt to complete the Testicle Trifecta at Cafe 401.
Otherwise, the menu is straightforward: oatmeal, egg sandwich, omelet, scramble, French toast, and so on. And smoked trout hash. Now, I love me some trout — and this reminds me that I once, in a fit of teenage testosterone, ate a trout’s eyeballs. But why do I mention this? I got the hash at 401, and it was fantastic. Plenty of trout, excellent potatoes, a perfectly poached egg, and a whole mess of scallions. (There’s a photo of it here.) The folks at Podnah’s Pit have some serious competition in this regard.
Alice, who was willing to be a little late to work today, had the French toast, and it was simple, yet above average. The reason is that the bread was still firm, especially the crusts, so much so that the guy brought her a steak knife. The syrup was so super thick it could hardly get out of the bottle.
Simple, but above average: that seems like a good summary of Cafe 401. The food isn’t exotic, other than the (ahem) lamb balls, but by all accounts, including mine, it’s quite good. If nothing else, according to the Alice Scale — that is, how many times Alice said, “Mmm, this is good” — it rated right there with Autentica and Country Cat, where the corned beef hash made Alice purr, as I recall.
For a more detailed, more foodie trip to Cafe 401, check out what Table Talk Portland had to say. I mention this because it’s a well-written and informative post, and because I (ahem) poached the photo of the hash from it.
