The Best Pizzeria Salads in Portland

"While your pizza finishes, a cook tosses a bushel of chopped romaine into a bowl with some Parmesan (pre-shredded), a handful of croutons (almost mush or molar-threateningly stale), and a squirt of dressing (either too little or way, way too much) before tossing the whole thing with tongs. You get home and idly fork through a few half-wilted leaves before abandoning the prospect and focusing on the real order, the hot, cheesy one dappled with oil."

"At many pizzerias, Caesar salads feel more obligatory than inspired, and obligation leads to desultory bowls of watery lettuce. But the Caesar is the workhorse of the American restaurant, the old reliable of the room service menu, and, when handled with care, a breezy palate cleanser between bites of cheese and pepperoni. It's also real crowd-pleaser and, in a city with a fervent farmers market scene, can go beyond the usual chopped romaine."

"At local Italian institution Nostrana, Cathy Whims-"the region's unofficial doyenne of Italian cooking," a former Portland Monthly staffer once called her-serves a vibrant magenta-hued radicchio affair dusted with Parmesan and sprinkled with rosemary-sage croutons. Inspired by a Caesar salad she had at Locanda Veneta in Los Angeles, circa 2000, Whims placed the Insalata Nostrana on the restaurant's opening menu, where it was an immediate and lasting hit. "It pays the bills. It's our biggest-selling thing," Whims says. "People just love it.""

Caesar salads at many American pizzerias are often assembled hastily with pre-shredded Parmesan, stale or gummy croutons, inconsistent dressing, and half-wilted romaine, producing watery, unappealing bowls. The Caesar also serves as a reliable restaurant staple and a light palate cleanser between rich pizza slices. Thoughtful interpretations can highlight local produce and bold flavors, such as magenta-hued radicchio dusted with Parmesan and topped with rosemary-sage croutons. Popular, well-executed versions can become menu mainstays that sell consistently and elevate a restaurant's offerings beyond the obligatory side salad.

Read at Portland Monthly