Sckavone's scores

Portland fare without the stare

By Eric A. Johnson

In our ongoing effort to serve up a variety of honest and reliable restaurant reviews for Vancouver and the surrounding areas, it was inevitable that we would eventually cross the cold, watery chasm to Elsewhere.

This is not to say that we've run out of options on this side of the river to pursue our epicurean interests, but we've become alarmed at the number of noteworthy places in Portland that get lost amidst the hipster-foodie dry-hump-fest of trendy haute cuisine.

Sckavone's is a perfect example of a Portland establishment with a very un-Portland vibe.

Jon Finley opened his eatery—situated cozily in Southeast Portland in a building originally occupied by his grandfather's pharmacy—not long after the previous inhabitant (the restaurant Fusion) went belly up and moved out.

Finley's grandfather, Nick Sckavone (hence the restaurant's name), was a local personality who championed area sports (especially baseball) for four decades beginning in the Great Depression.

Finley opened for business in September of 2006, deciding wisely to keep things simple.

"Recognizable dishes do really well," explained Finley regarding his menu of standard American diner fare. Rest assured, however, that there is nothing "standard" about the quality of the food.

We kicked off our meal with a generous helping of tempura-fried calamari and fresh al dente veggies ($7). This mountain of fried goodness fit in so well with the available burgers, meatloaf and fish 'n' chips that one would be forgiven for assuming that soda jerks in American diners had been pushing spicy aioli from the word go.

I hesitate to employ the phrase 'charming ambience' to describe the environs, for fear the reader will get the mistaken impression that the place is pretentious, so perhaps 'comfortable atmosphere' is closer to the mark. Black and white photos of Finley's progenitors adorn the walls, and a series of cozy, deep booths square off the room. The original curved pharmacy counter-top serves admirably for a bar. Orders are taken by a friendly, attentive staff who are uniformly pleasant and unaffected—a rarity in a city where servers tend toward either snobbish elitism or stares of blatant disregard (or disdain).

For an entree, I had the ravioli with cheese, bacon and mushrooms, dressed with shallots, spinach and sun dried tomatoes, all doused in a light cream sauce ($9).

My guest had a smoked rib eye so large that I suspect Finley is taking a loss at a measly $14. The steak came with flavorful mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, and an onion ring.

A modest selection of beer and wine—as well as a limited bar—aided and abetted the inevitable imbibing by your faithful reviewer. A glass of Turner Road Chardonnay ($5) and a simple Stolichnaya and tonic ($5.50) washed down the grub and dimmed the lights, so to speak, on a lovely evening.

The brunch lineup features eggs and salmon benedict, possibly the best chicken fried steak in town, corned beef hash, biscuits and gravy, and Strapazzare, as well as a variety of omelets, pancakes and French toast. With prices ranging from $4.25 to $11.00, it isn't hard to understand why it can sometimes be harder to get a table on a busy afternoon at Sckavone's than on many a Friday evening dinner rush.

So if you have cause to hitch up the wagon and venture forth into Puddletown for a night (or an early afternoon), take my advice and steer clear of the Pearl District's rarified air and the hipster havens of Hawthorne and Belmont. Settle into Sckavone's instead, and take the opportunity to bask in the glow of genuine Americana.

Sckavone's, 4100 SE Division St.; 503-235-0630; Monday-Thursday 10 a.m.-midnight, Friday 10 a.m.-1 a.m., Saturday 8 a.m.-1a.m., Sunday 8 a.m.-midnight.