Vietnamese Sandwich Number Four

Vietnamese Sandwich Number Four

Best Baguette, Powell Blvd. near 82nd Ave., Portland, Oregon.

Whenever I feel squeezed for time—my definition of “squeezed” is probably a bit more leisurely than yours—I use that atypical state as an excuse to grab a Number Four at the nearby Best Baguette Vietnamese sandwich shop. My repeated visits to Best Baguette have been my only experience of “fast food” in decades: situated next door to a Fast Food Power Center (KFC/A&W at one corner versus Carl’s Junior at the other, Taco Bell and Burger King a few blocks down), Best Baguette—complete with drive-thru service—seems to fit right in. Once inside however, and confronted by not only the sandwich menu on the wall, but also racks of sweet pastries, a bubble tea menu, frozen yogurt, and various baked goods, I always breathe a sigh of relief that I’m here rather than next door or across the street smelling grease-and-dough encrusted protein pellets.

Number Four is the Grilled Pork Vietnamese Sandwich. In case you’ve never encountered a Vietnamese Sandwich or “Banh Mi,” it’s basically a baguette cut lenthwise (like a sub sandwich) with stuff inside: a bit of meat and some shredded vegetables with Vietnamese seasoning, the styles of which vary from shop to shop. Best Baguette has a little packet of veggies they sprinkle on top of the meat: mostly shredded carrot. On top of that, they usually throw on a pile of cilantro and some sliced jalapeno pepper. My Number Four is always ordered “with no cilantro,” of course, but I have accepted the jalapeno as a challenge.

This evening, as I drove down 82nd Ave. toward my destination, I was contemplating my sandwich choices. I could order the Number Four as usual, or I could try something different. I knew there were quite a few other meat choices and several people have made recommendations. But each of them have pitfalls. There’s the Best Baguette Special: “Classic combination of pate, premium ham, pork roll and head.” No way: the paté I’m sure has organ meats and I can’t even imagine what “head” might be. Okay, it’s probably the head of something. Then there’s Pork Roll, “traditional Southeast Asian deli style pork slices.” Um no. This is definitely not going to be any kind of deli style I’m familiar with. Okay, there’s the Grilled Chicken (Number Three). That’s what I used to get, before I tried Number Four. It’s good, but not quite as good as Number Four. Moving on. Meatball: “Vietnamese style meatballs slowly simmered in broth.” That might be okay, but still,  a meatball has lots of room for unknown icky things. Well, here’s an idea: Saigon Bacon. Sounds good, except they call it “Cured fatty bacon slices made famous in the capitol city.” Fatty. I’ll try that some other time. Paté. I already covered that. “No way paté.” That leaves only a few more: Shredded Pork with Pork Skin, Sardine—and various combinations of all of the above. The last time I tried sardines they were on a gourmet pizza, which would have been allright, except for the sardines. Pork with Pork skin? Well, again, room for grossness. Then there’s the “French Sandwiches” menu. These are your normal American sandwiches, despite the “French.” Needless to say, I’m not here for roast beef.

Tonight’s Number Four was the first I’d had in quite a while, maybe a few years. The bread didn’t seem quite as fresh as I remember it. They bake the baguettes on the premises and usually they’re perfect. This time, not quite perfect. The pork was tasty as usual, and they seem to have really piled on the jalapeno in an effort to fill in the space usually reserved for cilantro. (I removed most of the jalapeno, but retained one slice for each third of the sandwich.) The sandwich was tasty and satisfying with a little extra throat burning for added excitement. As expected, I loved my Number Four. Even so, I think it’s possible that some day I really may try one of the other sandwiches. If I do, I’ll tell you all about it.

African Peanut Bowl

African Peanut Bowl

Lunch at Harlow on Hawthorne, Portland, Oregon

These days eating out in Portland is often a choice between a vegan soy-free kale quinoa bowl and a bacon burger on a syrup-encrusted donut; beverages are a choice between a wheatgrass smoothie and a hand-roasted double espresso (or alternatively, a craft brewed anise infused IPA); desserts are a choice between an organic gluten-free amaranth scone or a tiramisu triple-chocolate mousse cake. Restaurants, with the exception of high-end and ethnic venues, veer towards one extreme or the other. Either it’s a meat place whose menu contains meat, meat with grease, meat with another kind of meat, and mac n cheese for your vegetarian friend; or it’s a piously socially conscious vegetarian/vegan place serving raw greens, protein-like substance, sesame dip and whole wheat sunflower seed “bagels.” I’m not against eating healthy or eating delicious. I’m not even against eating meat and I’m definitely not against eating gluten. What I am against is food as doctrine.

Harlow is solidly in the vegan gluten-free kale and quinoa party and normally I would choose an ethnic hole-in-the-wall over a trendy health food destination. But I was meeting my friend Kirsten, who eats 100% vegetarian and is a fellow picky eater; she preferred Harlow, since it’s all-vegetarian, and gives her more food choices than some of the other places I had mentioned. Moreover, we had met there once before and both of us liked the food.

This time, before setting out on my bike, I spent a significant length of time studying the online menu. Last time, I had chosen the “Urban Bowl” with peanut sauce, which was fine, but it lacked a certain something. It was pretty much all vegetables, which was what I wanted, but there wasn’t enough flavor present to compensate for the lack of grains. Most of the other choices would involve much the same thing as the Urban Bowl, only with added grains, so I decided to go wild with the African Peanut Bowl (with rice instead of quinoa, whose texture I find abhorrent, and minus the cilantro, needless to say).

I’m glad I did! I mean, there’s no going wrong with peanuts. And the dish was packed with KALE, which normally I would avoid—in favor of more reasonable greens such as spinach or chard. But the strong peanut sauce flavor overwhelmed the potential nastiness of the kale to a sufficient degree. The brown rice was a satisfying counterbalance to the greens and the peanut sauce. A pleasant foundation for a congenial chat with a friend.

Yes, it was vegan. Yes, it was gluten-free. And it would be nice if more restaurants focused on the health basics rather than scientifically questionable fads. But until then, I’ll be getting my greens, fruits, whole grains and legumes where I can find them, and I can undoubtedly find them at Harlow.