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If you would have asked me whether an architecturally-stunning upscale eatery in the Pearl District serving food copied from cultures all over Central and South America run by some Beaverton restaurant guys could be any good, the answer would have been easy.
No.
My own cultural prejudices are firmly in place, and strong antipathy for anything food-related that either smacks of a corporate investment or has any connection to Beaverton is high among them (in this case, the restaurant owners also run the Hall Street Grill in that lamentable suburb). So I was prepared to not like Oba. But I did.
Despite the odds, Oba's attempt to adopt the flavors and ingredients from a host of American cuisines and create something original succeeds. To be sure, this isn't authentic cultural cuisine, but it doesn't pretend to be. Judging food against a standard of authenticity is a conceit mostly (and thankfully) limited to those of us who proclaim ourselves critics. To most of you who go out for a meal, there's a most important question: Is the food any good?
At Oba, the answer is yes.
Those American cuisines Oba borrows from simmer mostly to the south of the temperate zone, the part of the new world that brought us squash, beans, corn, and, more important, chiles. Oba takes those ingredients, throws in flavors from the Caribbean, adds a bit of Chef Scott Neuman's Texas, and filters everything through the modern sensibilities of the so-called New Cuisine.
The results can be very good, as the chile-corn fritters demonstrate. These crispy doughballs result from cross-breeding southern hush puppies and Mexico City's chalupas (toasted masa ovals named for the canoes paddled between the chinampas, the floating gardens of Xochimilco). Their crunchy exterior yields to a soft cornmeal center, studded with corn kernels and bits of roasted poblano chiles. Each fritter is anointed with a small drizzle of lime crema, a thinned, lightly flavored sour cream, and they're served with mango salsa-sweet, hot, and reminiscent of Thai chile sauce.
The top of the menu-labeled pinchos for small bites and raciones for small plates-includes other delights. Shrimp ceviche adds tequila to the traditional lime marinade, the crispy coconut prawns carry a double punch of sweetness that goes surprisingly well with the bite of jalapeno, and the Cuban ha cha cha langostinos arrive in a shallow sea of deeply flavored garlic-paprika sauce.
Flautas, named for their flute-like shape, are usually made with corn tortillas that can stand up to the deep-fryer. Oba uses flour, rolled around rare prime rib and just barely crisped for a lighter version that's not at all oily. The accompanying corn salsa combines the roasted kernels with tomatoes, roasted red peppers, jalapenos, and the unexpected flavor of fresh mint. I wished there were more.
I felt the same about one night's soup. Fresh corn and tortilla strips floated in a clear broth flavored with tomatillos, garlic, poblano chiles, and pureed Romaine lettuce. The astringent acidity of the tomatillos and the mild fire of the chiles blended perfectly with the sweet corn and clean, subtle flavor from the lettuce, and the slowly fading crispness of the tortillas provided another layer of texture.
Enchiladas filled with roasted vegetables might be the epitome of the nuevo wavo style. The form mimics the classic Mexican dish, but the ingredients-caramelized red onion, mushrooms, summer squash, and sweet bell peppers-cater to a demand for vegetarian entrees. All that really matters, though, is that they taste good, and they do, topped with just enough melted jack cheese and a piquant salsa verde.
Don't miss the ahi tuna, encrusted with ancho chile and black pepper and served on a fluffy mound of mashed boniato, a tropical tuber that tastes like lightly sweetened potato. I liked the roasted chicken, too, which emerges crisp-skinned and juicy from a long marinade and slow trip over mesquite. The prime rib is serviceable, but seems out of place with so many temples to beef springing up, and I don't think any lobster is worth thirty bucks, no matter what it tastes like.
If you avoid the obvious concessions to the mass market you should leave happy. The kitchen's talents are more obvious in the small touches anyway. The bread basket includes a spread made with butter, sour cream, roasted garlic, chipotle chiles, and scallions. Mashed potatoes with poblano chiles provide a new twist to everybody's favorite comfort food, and rice cooked with a bit of coconut milk has a subtle sweetness that could easily be skipped with all of the other big flavors around.Why the tangy black beans- flavored with cumin, poblano, and oregano-are dubbed Venezuelan is a mystery, but they taste great.
Dessert strays farthest from the restaurante de lujo theme, but it's an all-American course anyway. Kahlua con leche is thick, espresso custard topped with chocolate; a passionfruit version includes lime syrup and tropical fruit. A dollop of rum-spiked whipped cream and a crown of lacy spun sugar top the apple bread pudding. Less sugary, but very nice, is the granite of sangria spiked with brandy and Cointreau.
And there is that interior. It is stunning, and the design evokes a sense of the other Americas. The main room, saturated with color and twinkling with halogen starlight, is lined with booths set into deep alcoves, like storefronts lining a central plaza. A smaller room feels more homey, with a lower ceiling and faux fireplace filled with dozens of candles, their flickering light coming through a wrought iron screen. Linger over a glass of Madeira or a shot of Sauza Commemorativo and enjoy the illusion. On a rainy night in Portland, Oba can make the equator seem a little closer.