Some of the best days that Jade and I have together together are ones that weren’t planned out days or even weeks ahead of time. We woke up one morning after having gone to bed way too late. Neither of us felt fantastic after a hard night of sleep and be jolted awake to the sound of banging and beeping from the construction next door. We had a couple chores on our to-do list: take back the busted kitchen timer, go to Blick’s for their sale, paint the hallway drawers, etc. But we knew we wanted to eat before we tried to tackle any of it. We felt too worn out to cook.
We have been planning on going to Clyde Common for almost a year but had never got around to actually making it happen. For us, its been one of those places we walk by and say ‘This place is gorgeous! We must have dinner there soon!’ but it doesn’t happen. I am thankful for our hard nights sleep and extremely thin walls because it lead us to going in that day. Isn’t it funny how horrible things can lead to absolutely wonderful things?
Clyde Common is attached to two of our very favorite places to go in Portland: The Ace Hotel and Stumptown Coffee. Their restaurant front is lined with tall, paned glass windows that invites all the beautiful light outside, in. The interior is rustic but modern.
We ordered the Clyde Common club that has bacon marmalade, heirloom tomato, and honey mustard within it. Our second choice was the tagliatelle topped with braised lamb belly and dressed with a smoked crème fraîche and mushroom sauce. The bacon marmalade really made the club worth ordering and I could have just eaten a whole plate of it alone. No bread. No side. Just Bacon marmalade. All night long. But to dismiss the rich and savory complexities of the the tagliatelle would be a crime. There was a certain quality to this dish that took me back to my childhood. I like to compare it to the scene in the animated movie Ratatouille when the food critic took his first bite from the ratatouille dish he was served, flashing him back to those moments in his adolescence when the only thing that comforted him was the dish he had just sampled. Of course, the only instance in my childhood I could recall that this incredibly elevated tagliatelle dish reminded me of was a beef stroganoff my mother and grandmother would make for me on stormy Oregon days in the fall and winter. This was definitely ten times better than any stroganoff I have ever had but the reminiscence and comparison still bears weight in my memory.
After glancing around at plates on other tables, it only reinforced my want to come back to Clyde Common to try more of their elevated recipes from their menu. And to have more bacon marmalade. Maybe a jar of it next time.