Portland’s ōkta Reopened, But… 💔

🌿 Ambiance: The only redeeming quality, "fake sophistication" in a fancy town Tucked in a loaded little town, I was optimistic when I walked in: wooden tables glowed warmly, the open-fire grill in the kitchen was spotless (no smoke—definitely a plus); decor was understated rustic, with light seeping through the glass door of the downstairs wine cellar. It looked the part. I even said to my group, "With this vibe, how bad can the food be?" Oh, how wrong I was. 🍽️ Dishes: From hopeful to speechless, in three courses Appetizer: Dried vegetable rack—the only "not bad" thing A little rack with various dried veggies—carrot, pumpkin… crisp, slightly sweet, very "organic." No highlights, but no faults. I even thought, "Just a warm-up. The good stuff is coming." Asparagus: Unpeeled tough stalks scratch your throat—no prep work? The second course arrived: bright green asparagus that looked fresh. One bite, and I froze—several stalks still had tough, unpeeled skin, chewy as twigs, scratching my throat. I quietly wrapped the tough bits in a napkin and left them on the table, hoping the server would notice and maybe, just maybe, they’d fix it. But based on the rest of the meal? Doubt it. Crab with cucumber: Refreshing, but not fresh I went for the crab dish, paired with cucumber slices. It was refreshing—crisp cucumber, cool crab, like something even a kitchen klutz (me) would throw together when too lazy to cook. But the crab meat was crumbly, with a faint fishy tang—nowhere near "just pulled from the nearby farm waters" fresh. The only saving grace was the non-alcoholic Martini: the base had a hint of spice, with salty notes that contrasted the dish’s blandness. It "saved half the meal." Roasted chicken: Fanning till smoke billows can’t fix mediocrity Watching the kitchen guy fan the chicken till smoke fogged up the grill, I thought, "This much effort? It’s gotta be good." But it was worse than the grilled chicken I once bought at a Hawaiian roadside stand🥲 First bite had a hint of charcoal (maybe I was just starving), but the knife was so dull, carving half a leg took forever. By the time I finished, the rest was cold. The paired drink was confusing: cloyingly sweet with syrup, clashing with the chicken’s oiliness. A sparkling tea would’ve been better for cutting grease. Dessert: Berry sorbet with "fake grape jelly"—indescribably bad The final course: berry sorbet with a layer of clear white grape jelly underneath. Supposedly grape-flavored, it tasted like nothing—chewing flavorless gelatin. The sorbet’s tartness clashed with the jelly’s blandness. "Hard to judge" is the nicest thing I can say; most of it was left untouched. 🍷 The final straw: 2000 Dom Pérignon—where was this stored? Too underwhelmed by the food, we ordered a bottle of 2000 Dom Pérignon to salvage the night—only to fall silent at the first sip: it tasted weird, like old soapy water. Clearly poorly stored (wrong temp, wrong humidity). That bottle was the last straw. If a restaurant can’t be bothered to properly store an expensive wine, why trust it with ingredients? Driving away, the farms outside still looked idyllic, but all I could think was "never again." ōkta, if you can’t step up the food, just close—at least you’d keep the "once great" legacy. #portland #RestaurantFail