To my great consternation, RCR insists upon calling our Saturday post-run meal “brunch.” I, a self-respecting ex-New-Yorker, have certain expectations of this hallowed meal. For a menu to qualify, I require at least one variation on Eggs Benedict, one overly inventive French toast dish, one questionable execution of a “specialty dish” such as Huevos Rancheros or Chicken and Waffles, one halfhearted attempt at a vegan option, and one non-orange mimosa.
Sadly, establishments which meet this very low bar are few and far between in Seattle (thanks Bezos). But scarcity doth make the heart grow more willing to settle. In Manhattan, I cross-reference reviews from a minimum of 3 sources before committing to a spot. Here, I am simply grateful for a place to spend $40 on hollandaise and syrup-soaked strawberries.
The Run (Setting the scene)
This was peak week, entailing a distance PR of 20 miles for a few of us. I was among this number. Leg 1 was one of the more challenging routes we have, with significant uphill sections as we climbed from campus to Golden Gardens and back.
We’d also had a particularly popular second leg, picking up 6 or so runners at Roosevelt for a victory lap (it was a Pyrrhic victory) around Green Lake.
I stumbled into the Portage Bay on 65th, feet numb, knees weak, back sore, pumped full of gels and electrolyte drinks – beyond ready to commandeer the reservation I’d had the foresight and fore-hunger to book ahead, given the size of the group.
The food
This is a brunch review after all.
I’ve been to 3 Portage Bay locations, and one of their greatest draws is consistency. What they lack in brilliance, they make up for with nearly 0 variance.
I’ve ordered my default dish, the Seattle Benedict, around 8-12 times now. I can’t say a single one of those instances has stood out to me, either for over- or under-performing. This Eggs Benny variation is modified only by replacing the Canadian ham with Dungeness crab and 2 slides of avocado. And always, always, always, the yolk is ever so slightly over, solidifying at the edges, the hollandaise is a bit bland but reasonably smooth, the English muffins are griddled to a pleasant char without excessive greasing, and a generous sprinkling of dill adorns the eggs.
Again, no genius to be found here, but little to complain of either.
The only thing unusual about this weekend’s experience was that I was dispatched to the berry bar to get my own $5 extra charge mini bowl of seasonal fruit, instead of relying on the somewhat stingy hand of a hurried kitchen team. Needless to say, I took the opportunity to practice my immigrant buffet-food-stacking skills. The berry bar, for the uninitiated, is an island in the restaurant upon which sit massive bowls of berries, nuts, whipped cream, and other suitable accoutrements for pancakes and french toast, each order of which includes a trip to said bar. It’s thoroughly unhygienic and gimmicky, but also kind of delightful.
In addition to my own orders, I am known to shamelessly try the food of anyone within fork-stab distance. In this case, Matthew and James were penalized for sitting too close to me.
Matthew had the biscuits and gravy. I never have particularly high hopes when a non-Southern institution attempts a decidedly Southern plate. This turned out exactly how I expected. That is to say, it was entirely serviceable but a bit hollow. The gravy was fairly tasty, yet simultaneously a little flat in flavor. I wished for a little more pepper and meatiness. The same comment can be made for the sausage itself. The biscuits they sat on were more or less satisfying, though.
James opted for shakshouka with added sausage. I’m extremely opinionated about shakshouka. I want to be nearly choked by cumin and paprika. A restaurant meant to appeal to all is, understandably, going to be rather gentle with its spices. Even with that in mind, I found this dish surprisingly timid for the name it aspires to.
Portage Bay’s potatoes lack the uneven crispy craggy profile I prefer (I’m on Team Smash Those Spuds), and I find the seasoning to be in keeping with the theme of subtlety, but they do have enough structure for me to use/abuse them as a scoop for the delicious hot sauce Portage Bay always has. Make sure you get a bottle of both varieties at your table.
Given all of this halfheartedness, it may be surprising that I am overall quite a great fan of Portage Bay Cafe for a large group. The menu is sufficiently expansive, with ample options for any common dietary restriction. The food is good enough that it is unlikely anybody feels cheated or disappointed, so long as they’ve set their expectations properly. The environment is lively, not rowdy, and about equally suited for a birthday brunch, a family outing, a hangover cure (or so I’m told), or even a post-long-run refuel.
If I have my way, RCR will be back. But I’m afraid I may be alone in my brunch stance.
Verdict
Brunch-y-ness: 🍳🥞🥓🧇🍵
RCR-ness: 6/10 (too sit-down, too basic, not bizarre enough)
Food quality: 8/10 (curved for Seattle, take what you can get)