Kachka

A friend who knows Portland better than I do put Kachka at the top of a list of three. He was right, as he often is.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: cozy Eastside, infused vodkas on every table. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with a half-dozen oysters from the raw bar, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Chianti Classico Riserva I wrote down in my notebook, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: beef tongue and short rib, the dish that puts Kachka on every short list. There was a thumb of butter melting into the cross-hatch, and a single sprig of thyme on top, and not one thing more. The signature touch — Russian-Georgian beef preparations, all in one room — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for grilled radicchio with anchovy butter and asparagus with hollandaise. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was key lime pie, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

It is not cheap. It is, in this case, worth it.