I long hold fantasies of becoming a regular at restaurants. I want to walk in, sit at my table, have my usual drink poured for me before I even have a chance to ask. I’m in love with the idea of a neighborhood joint, of a home away from home where I can count on being welcome and comfortable, every time. Unfortunately, my intrepid restaurant surveyer within gets in the way of me realizing my regular dreams. I hardly ever go back to the same restaurant twice. I want to discover what’s next, to see what else is happening in the city food-wise, to give the inside scoop to any friend who asks about that new place that opened up in the neighborhood. The cutting edge is a comfortable place for me in terms of eateries.
When I walked into Screen Door for just the second time, I was really happy to find that David, the owner/man behind the bar, remembered us. It was pretty amazing. We had been back in the summer, had a great time, and always meant to go back. Well now, with my departure date looming in front of me, I’ve been going back to all those places I always meant to go to, or at least meant to go to again.
David waved us over to the bar, and we gladly took the same seats we took last time. “our seats,” really, because if we do get the chance to go back for dinner, I can’t imagine sitting anywhere else. He remembered that we had a special drink and within minutes, we had two fresh Moscow Mules in front of us. And with that, it seemed, we were regulars. “I can’t leave this town,” I said.
Drink in hand, we got down to ordering starters.
Being a boy from the south, Noneifbysea can’t contain himself if hushpuppies are on the menu. I don’t get it myself. I mean, I like cornbread, I like fried things, so logic would follow that I would like fried balls of cornbread. But, I don’t know, it just doesn’t work for me. I guess the texture is so much like falafel, but with none of the savory Middle Eastern spices. Still, NIBS raves about Screen Door’s. He likes the sweet kernels of corn that punctuate the occasional bite, digs the mustard dipping sauce. He started to push back the plate until I reminded him how much he loved the slaw last time. He pulled the plate back to him, excitedly.
Ihave never had better fried oysters. I live for oysters, raw or cooked, and I get caught up in the contrast between the two. That a briny, slippery gem can turn into this entirely other entity with just a cover of batter and dip in the fryer. Crispy skin giving way to smooth, succulent…something. When words failed me, I pleaded for Noneifbysea to shrug off his namesake but he refused. I would say, “his loss,” but really, I was so sad for him that he couldn’t enjoy what I was savoring.
We chose Screen Door that night because I had a craving for fried chicken, and as anyone knows, they are doing the best in town. Draper Valley chicken encased in a thick crust of fried, crunchy goodness. It’s far too much food for one person. Two pieces of chicken served with a generous portion of mashed sweet potatoes and sautéed spinach. On my first visit, I made the very sad mistake of ignoring the unassuming ramekin of brown sauce that accompanies the chicken. I didn’t even think to ask about it until my plate was being taken away and I realized I snubbed the tasso ham gravy! This time, I was sure to dip my fork in it first. Fried chicken skin followed soon after.
And silly NIBS went with the burger. Of course, it’s better than half the burgers in town, but really, it’s on the level with any other farmstead-chedder laced, organic meat and veg buger in town. Why he didn’t go with the pork chop, I’ll never know.
The menu at Screen Door is overwhelming. Not because of the number of things they offer (there are probably about 8 main courses), but because of the possibilities. Each side dish sounds better than the next, and then compounding the indecision is the prospect of building a screen door plate-a combination of any of the sides, one of which is a pork chop. The mind boggles. We tried to contain ourselves and just get one side. In addition to the main dishes, we went with the grits, as I had never had them before. I believe I’ve been quoted as saying they were “comforting, like a down blanket made of carbs with cheese on top.”
It wasn’t just the grits that gave me a sense of comfort. I felt welcome there, remembered, content. It’s one of those places that feels so Portland- simply good, devoid of pretense, committed to quality and delivers on all of it. I’ll miss Screen Door when I’m gone, but I like to know that I could probably come back anytime, take a seat at the bar and David will be right there, ready to pour me a drink.
