14 // COASTWEEKEND.COM
Coast Weekend’s local
restaurant review
Port of Call’s kitchen fails to deliver on menu’s promises
Review and photos by
THE MOUTH OF THE COLUMBIA
MOUTH@COASTWEEKEND.COM
FACEBOOK.COM/MOUTHOFTHECOLUMBIA
I
n April, The Daily Astorian
reported changes at the Port of
Call Bistro & Bar. The plan:
pivot from unsavory watering hole
to wholesome eatery.
Florida-based owner Marvin
James Sawyer hired Taz Davis to
manage the transition. Overhauling
the menu, Davis dreamt of replac-
ing the bar’s sudsy reputation with
artisanal cheese boards, steamer
clams and cupcakes.
Davis also reshaped the interior,
removing a stage to make room for
more tables. Despite the adjustment,
Port of Call still feels more night-
club than all-ages eatery. Plenty of
unused square feet remain, as does
a shortage of natural light and a loft
that, were it in Hollywood, would
be reserved for VIPs.
Though the stage is gone, spot-
lights and steel scaffolding trace
its footprint. The sound system
remains (as do weekly open mic
nights, jams and karaoke). During
the day industrial fans whir loudly
against a jukebox whose genre is
schizophrenic. TVs buzz, not with
sports but viral videos of young
people attempting stunts that either
succeed or fail spectacularly. It’s
a weird, scattershot vibe — a nut-
shot to go with your cheese plate.
A few months into the revamp,
Davis and the Port of Call split.
Upon Davis’ departure some of
the more delicate offerings (like
crab cakes and steamer clams)
went with him. But the majority
of Davis’ menu remains. Whether
successors are prepared to execute
its more atavistic reaches is anoth-
er matter.
On my first trip, the Seared Ahi
($11) was perplexingly recom-
mended. “We just got the tuna in
today,” my server said. What was
put before me, though, was one
of the most visually unappealing
dishes I’ve laid eyes on. The fish
PORT OF CALL
BISTRO & BAR
Rating:
ABOVE: Seared Ahi
LEFT: Baja Street Tacos
RIGHT: Red, White & Blue Burger
was a drab gray with sesame seeds
mushed into the edges, drizzled
with a slick, shiny brown, syrupy
Teriyaki. It was sliced with no dis-
cernible method and cooked with
even less.
With the Seared Ahi, the menu
wrote a check the kitchen couldn’t
cash. It read thusly: “Sesame
Crusted seared and teriyaki glazed
served with wasabi and pickled
spears.” But there was no crust
to speak of, no sear. (The reason:
a cooking surface not nearly hot
enough). It was, instead, almost as
if the tuna were simmered, in plac-
es cooked through. Tasting as if it
were cooked in bathwater, it was at
once under- and overdone.
Against what the menu prom-
ised, the failures of the Ahi were
executional. The Baja Street Tacos
($9) actually delivered a different
preparation altogether. Rather than
breaded and fried, as the menu
marked, the fish I got was nakedly
grilled. And what there was of the
puny portion of whitefish — cod,
I’m told — was barely enough
to cobble together one legitimate
taco, rather than fill the trio. And
when I folded them, the corn
tortillas were so stale they split, the
insides tumbling out.
Now, let’s pause a moment
to talk about accuracy between
the menu and the kitchen: It’s
an absolute, baseline necessity.
Restaurants must deliver exactly
the ingredients and preparations
the menu states. If substitutions are
required or changes made to the
process, that news must be shared
with the customer before the order
is finalized, and long before a plate
is plopped down.
As I understand it, should the
famed Michelin inspectors be
presented with anything other than
what the menu or server states, that
restaurant is immediately removed
from star-rating consideration.
In the context of Port of Call,
which was never in contention for
any Michelin star, whinging about
accuracy might sound overly picky
or even innocuous. But it’s a big
deal. Forthrightness matters. Once
the circle of trust is broken, what’s
left? It’s an exceedingly slippery
slope that is at least disingenuous,
at worst dangerous.
For what it’s worth, my gut tells
me the cook(s) and staff at Port of
894 Commercial St., Astoria,
Ore., 97103
503-325-4356
Hours: 11 a.m. to 2:30 a.m.
Tuesday through Saturday; 9
a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday; 3 p.m.
to 2:30 a.m. Monday
Price: $ - Entrées hover around
$10
Service: Doing their best in a
difficult situation
Vegetarian / Vegan Options:
Look elsewhere
Drinks: Full bar, soda
KEY TO STAR RATING SYSTEM
Poor
Below average
Worth returning
Very good
Excellent, best in region
Call are doing their best, dealing
with a difficult ownership situation
that Davis’ departure exacerbated.
That said, if one is not sure how to
achieve a dish, the answer isn’t just
to wing it — it is, rather, to take it
off the menu. Customers shouldn’t
pay for practice.
After my first trip’s disappoint-
ment, recalibration seemed in
order. Perhaps the more aspiration-
al aspects of Davis’ menu — and
perhaps his vision writ large —
were out of reach. I thought: Heck,
maybe Port of Call is best left as a
place that does regular ol’ bar food
(burgers and fries, chicken strips
and onion rings, etc.). And maybe
that’s what it should’ve aimed for
all along.
The Red, White and Blue
Burger ($13) — with bacon, blue
cheese, lettuce, tomato and onion
— was confidently and boldly
presented, a steak knife pinning it
all together. (Visually, the differ-
ence between the bold burger and
the lonesome, desaturated Ahi was
night and day.) But the plating was
also a bit odd. Bacon twice the
length of the burger criss-crossed
in the center and flopped out like
panting tongues. The bacon was
properly cooked, crisp and juicy. It
also afforded much-needed salt to
the burger patty, which was hand-
pressed but woefully under-sea-
soned. The blue cheese was quiet.
The plate came with a generous
pile of hand-cut fries, though they,
too, suffered without Davis’ ex-
perience. Twice-fried, but without
the requisite precision, they were
all crispy, oily edge and no body.
Unless you’re going to do it with a
stopwatch, twice-frying is best left
to perfectionists. (I see you, Frite
& Scoop.)
The Grilled Chicken ($9) was
another menu snafu. Said to come
on toasted sourdough, mine arrived
on an un-toasted burger bun. De-
scribed in the menu as a “seasoned
grilled chicken breast” there was,
again, no seasoning to speak of.
Furthermore, the life had been
cooked out of it.
In light of all the shortcomings
and inaccuracies, Port of Call
must recognize its limitations.
There’s nothing shameful about
offering simple bar food. With a
few easy tweaks, burgers (with
some salt and pepper included in
the patty-making process) and fries
(dunked only once in the fryer),
the standbys will be serviceable.
Failing to deliver what the menu
specifies, on the other hand, is
unacceptable. CW