Since Zoraya Zambrano and her children, Gary and Gloria Marmanillo, opened Casa Zoraya back in 2018, this Peruvian spot has been Piedmont’s under-the-radar gem: Ceviches land at the table like a work of art, fried calamari adding crunch to a bed of fresh seasonal seafood tossed with a summery leche de tigre. Arroz Chaufa, a Peruvian fried rice dish, gets an upgrade with a passionfruit reduction, which adds dose of acidity and sweetness. And the pisco sours feel like they’re shipped straight from Lima, best sipped on Casa Zoraya’s back patio on nice days.

Akkapong Earl Ninsom did it again: After treating Portland to deftly executed Thai cooking at Langbaan and Paadee, the chef and restaurateur created a casual southern Thai compatriot on Northeast Killingsworth with hardcore devotees. Hat Yai’s shallot-fried chicken, salty and crunchy, pairs exceptionally well with Malayu-style curry and crispy roti, all available in the popular combo No. 1. However, diners will be rewarded for straying from the top billing: The restaurant’s searingly spicy kua gling ground pork is abundant with aromatics and alliums, and the dtom som shrimp combines seafood with meaty oyster mushrooms in a broth pleasingly sour with tamarind and ginger.

In a period of time where so many Portland restaurants are overwhelmingly earnest, Killingsworth neighborhood Italian American joint Gabbiano’s exudes a good-hearted ridiculousness, a commitment to the bit that feels truly refreshing. Fried mozzarella shot glasses filled with marinara? For sure. Caprese Negronis with sundried tomato Campari and mozzarella ball garnishes? Totally. But if Gabbiano’s were simply a gimmick, it wouldn’t appear on this map; each dish has a true sense of deliciousness, from frisbee-sized discs of juicy chicken Parm in a bright pomodoro, or a pork chop coated in a spice blend evocative of Italian sausage, paired with a summery stonefruit agrodolce. Not every restaurant needs to be serious; this city needs its silly little corners, and Gabbiano’s is one of them.

Ethan and Geri Leung went from popping up in Seattle to opening this casual food cart, which offers a simultaneously inventive and accessible take on Filipino staples. Every dish has an incredible depth of flavor, whether it’s the lingering note of seafood and floral acidity in a shrimp-topped arroz caldo, or the tamari-rich adobo, which hits the grill for a touch of char and smoke. Brunches include sticky-sweet tocino and satisfyingly simple garlic rice, each dish popping with acid and salt.

Each day, during lunch hours, Alberta locals line up at this orange-and-green cart in pursuit of chiles en nogada stuffed with ground pork and bowls of lipstick-red pozole, accompanied by prickly pear agua fresca and horchata. The cart’s menu is extensive, with everything from soy curl burritos to cochinita pibil, but it should be no surprise that this cart’s particular specialty is its moles: A sweet and nutty mole negro, an herbaceous and vegetal mole verde. The cart’s fuchsia mole rosa, a rarity at Portland Mexican restaurants made with earthy beets and hibiscus flowers, is available as a coating for tender enchiladas or simply paired with fresh salmon, a smart choice of protein for the sweet-earthy beet sauce. The artful plating — colorful ceramic bowls, garnished with flowers — sets each dish over the top, making this one of the city’s finest Mexican carts.

In a North Mississippi pizza cafe that feels casual but intimate, pizzaiola Sarah Minnick embraces paradoxes: She took something brimming with childhood charm — pizza and ice cream — and gave it a high-end twist. Ever-changing pizzas are a garden of edible flowers and mushrooms, atop an airy-but-sturdy pizza dough made with Oregon whole grains; they’re accompanied by salads and soups made with peak-season produce. While the menu changes on an almost weekly basis, Minnick’s culinary creativity and attention to detail remains constant. If someone is defining Portland’s distinct pizza style, it’s Minnick.

Portland’s status as a pizza city is, frankly, not worthy of debate any longer; enough international pizza experts have confirmed our pizzaiolos are world class. As such, standing out within an already saturated, talent-packed market is difficult. And yet, this unassuming cart off Northeast Sandy, run by Roberto Hernandez Guerrero, adds a fresh voice to the city’s pizza scene, one that takes an exceptional crust — Neapolitan in approach, soft and char-kissed with a good rise — and combines it with a Latin American culinary palette. The genius appears on the specials board: black garlic supporting the gentle funk of local huitlacoche, a corn smut grown in Gresham; nutty Oaxacan mole rojo juxtaposed with a mild huancaina; chorizo and corn over a comforting poblano crema. And still, the cart’s simple, cheery margherita is a simple pleasure, missing nothing.

Alkebulan Moroski is exacting with the meat-free proteins at their vegan restaurant, Dirty Lettuce: The chef goes down to the very foundations of the protein structure, mimicking the balance of fat and muscle that gives chicken its juiciness or pork ribs that “fall off the bone” quality. But at the core of Dirty Lettuce is an allegiance to the true Southern classics, be it a Cajun mac and cheese that boggles the mind with its faux sausage, or a fried “chicken” with a crackly skin indistinguishable from the real thing. The mission is to make vegan comfort food that feels true to the original, in an effort to get people more interested in eating less meat — non-judgmental, but still intent on excellence. And trust us: Eating those garlic mashed potatoes won’t feel like any sort of sacrifice, even without the dairy.

Nothing feels as celebratory as a meal at St. Jack, where diners marvel at plates in a humming dining room, glasses of Champagne bubbling on tables. The simple classics are done astoundingly well here: The restaurant’s knockout chicken liver mousse is velveteen and has a sweetness reminiscent of rich ice cream, and a simple plate of steak frites comes with an on-point shallot-red wine demi-glace and tangy bearnaise. But distinctive dishes like mushroom vol-au-vent crowned with a bouquet of lettuces and nasturtium, or a sliver of brown-buttery foie gras tart topped with a seasonal gelee, are the ones that keep St. Jack top-of-mind when thinking about special occasion restaurants.

Han Oak has shape-shifted throughout its tenure in Kerns, but its latest iterations exude the relaxed, convivial intimacy that has made the restaurant a favorite both among the city’s locals and on the national stage. The style of service changes seasonally — in the winters, House-made broth, fortified with scrap from shabu-shabu-esque meats, bubbles in enameled cast iron perched on a tableside gas burner; diners pick out petals of house corned beef or short rib to cook in the broth themselves, alongside produce like Oregon-grown enoki and chrysanthemum greens that subtly flavor the broth as it simmers. In the summers, the vibe shifts to a DIY gimbap party: Chef Peter Cho snaps open cans of Cass with dish rags while servers deliver platters of house dry-aged and/or marinated meats for guests to wrap into hand rolls, karaoke on deck as visitors pick at banchan like a house-brined corned beef soo yook. Everything is expertly executed, but the sense of simple fun is never lost — the core tenet of a successful Portland restaurant.

Once home to Top Chef contestant Sara Hauman, this stylish Pearl District restaurant is now the turf of longstanding Portland chef Erik Van Kley, a talent with a singular perspective on classic Pacific Northwestern ingredients. Take, for example, potato pierogies, which hide under a thicket of Burgundian truffles, hot sauce adding pops of orange to a creme fraiche; the flavor is immediately recognizable, the truffle adding a fun air of froofiness to the chive creme fraiche. All of the food works well with the exceptionally detailed wine list, which includes a few long-cellared options hailing from the Willamette Valley.

Jazz plays while pots of pu-erh and mugs of coffee land at tables around this charming French-Scandinavian cafe in downtown Portland. Recent visits to Maurice harken back to its early days, where scones and cookies bookend savory meals of cottage-cheese-topped smorrebrod or fluffy quiches with the subtle flavor of brie and shallots. Meals at Maurice feel luxurious in their simplicity, thanks to its leisurely pace and minimalist plates, be it a bowl of mussels enlivened with mint or a briny brandade served with rose potatoes and baguette. As usual, fika here — peppery cheesecakes, souffle pudding cakes fragrant with meyer lemon — are a must.

The shelves of this candlelit Burnside restaurant support bottles of fine olive oil and canned tomatoes, the foundations of the pasta dishes that emerge from its kitchen. Meals start with antipasti, in particular an array of surprisingly spiced marinated vegetables and pickles — mushrooms are juicy with a hint of cinnamon in the brine, for instance. Octopus is meaty and savory with lovely char, with olives providing an oceanic murmur. From there, a parade of pastas show range: Fettuccine arrives coated in a thick, dreamy lemon cream, almost a Bizarro World alfredo, while perfectly al dente radiatori collect bits of saffron-scented lamb among their folds. Visitors should not miss the restaurant’s cabbage, charred within an inch of its life with a custardy center.

The original carts are gone, but Nong's Khao Man Gai’s restaurant space on Southeast Ankeny is still kicking, serving chef Nong Poonsukwattana’s signature dish: a deceptively simple take on Hainanese chicken. Ask five acolytes their favorite part of the dish and each will offer a different answer: the soul-satisfying broth, the truly perfect rice, Nong's ginger-heavy sauce, or the chicken itself, skins or no. Poonsukwattana’s story is one of dogged perseverance; that has not changed.

Casual diners in T-shirts and jeans sit at teal tables in this airy, cool dining room, surrounded by stormy blue walls printed with seahorses. The decor reflects the restaurant’s vaguely oceanic theme, which the kitchen enforces with dishes like Pacific Northwestern oysters with granita, or Dungeness crab and lobster-filled brioche dotted with trout roe. Pineapple provides tropical acidity to thick slices of albacore, with radishes for crunch and the tickle of heat in a nuoc cham. Despite the seafood focus, land-locked dishes are no afterthought, especially a slip-off-the-bone St. Louis spare rib in a maple bourbon glaze.

In a sunny yellow cart in Southeast Portland, next to a restaurant worker hangout, Erica Montgomery tosses wings in maple barbecue sauce, smothers chicken thighs in mushroom gravy, and tops grits with gouda and roasted tomatoes. Here, Portlanders will find staples like crispy-fried catfish, black-eyed peas, and boiled peanuts, though Montgomery caught the attention of greater Portland thanks to her Atlanta-style hot lemon pepper wings: One bite into a crispy-but-saucy wing induces a tangy pop of acid, blended with a gentle-but-present heat that coats the mouth. The cart’s Buffalo bacon ranch wings cling to that same acid with a nice touch of smoky, porky flavor for balance. But if the wings are off the menu, savvy diners should nab a box of those tender chicken thighs drenched in rosemary-heavy gravy, with a scoop of textbook-tasty mac and cheese.

Gregory Gourdet’s reputation within Portland dining was already well established before he opened his first restaurant — the Top Chef regular and James Beard Award-winning cookbook author had been making shaved ice-topped desserts and Christmas ducks at Departure for years before he opened this resoundingly lauded Southeast Portland restaurant. Now, the stylishly appointed, energetic Kann is the hottest reservation in town, groups gathering at round tables to share peanut creamed greens and coffee-rubbed rib-eyes. Kann feels like Gourdet’s culinary biography, and there are echoes of his past lives throughout the menu: The duck, for instance, swaps the more Peking-style version from Departure for a cane syrup glaze with pineapple and tamarind, pulling from the Haitian culinary tradition of his heritage. And those granitas accompany delicately cured kanpachi or smoked corn pudding at the beginning or end of the meal. Plan ahead — reservations disappear minutes after they drop.

Hidden away on a mezzanine of a Southwest Portland building, Tercet is delivering one of the city’s most polished tasting menus, pulling from Oregon waters, woods, and grasslands. Depending on the time of year, diners may sit down to meaty morels under a bed of tartare and hollandaise, with little spring onion crepes for something akin to tacos; or, maybe Chinook, accompanied by a sorrel fumet, beets, and plenty of herbs — seemingly Scandinavian in inspiration. On a recent visit, a tartlet of smoked trout roe and dulse was a bite-sized balancing act of brininess and shortbread sweetness, a common culinary theme throughout any Tercet tasting menu. Tasting menus start at $150.

Mother-son duo Bibi and Michael Singh celebrate the cuisine of Guyana, underrepresented not only in Portland’s restaurant scene but also the country’s, at their Southeast Stark food cart within the rising star pod Lil’ America. Here, the Singhs emphasize the culinary influences on the South American country — particularly the Indian and Chinese influences — with dishes like a creamy house dal and chow mein made with imported Guyanese noodles; however, the true draw of this cart is its namesake, the “bakes.” Fluffy pockets arrive filled with everything from salt cod to Nutella, though the bake stuffed with chana aloo, layers of garlic and ginger intermingling with Guyanese curry powder and tender chickpeas, is Portland food cart dining at its finest.

It’s hard to understate how influential this Buckman Russian restaurant is: When Bonnie and Israel Morales opened Kachka in 2014, it ushered in the great Slavic American culinary renaissance, as restaurants around the country popped up celebrating the cuisines of the former Soviet Republics. Today, the restaurant is stronger than ever: Kachka’s zakuski cover tables, caviar and roe scattered between plates of multi-colored pickles and fish-topped toasts. Bowls of juicy Siberian pelmeni bathe in butter and vinegar, a dollop of smetana sour cream on top for good measure. Tender rabbit swims in a braising liquid of cherries, porcini, and garlic, perhaps served alongside cabbage rolls filled with beef, pork, and lamb. Drinkers should opt for a few pours of the restaurant’s fun house-infused vodkas, available in flights or single pours.

Cody Auger’s Southeast Hawthorne sushi counter has become nationally acclaimed for Edomae-style sushi: delicate, cured slivers of fish, potent and pristine in flavor and texture. The chefs here introduce so many nuances of each fish that are often lost: cold-smoked, salt-and-pepper-cured saba is salty and sweet and smoky in individual acts. Hotate from Northwestern Japan gets a spritz of yuzu, its perfume-y citrus complementing the creaminess of the scallop. And, outside the world of seafood, A5 wagyu is hit with a hand torch so the fat renders silken, but doesn’t cook; the result is a delicate, decadent bite of beef that’s hard to forget. Reservations for the restaurant’s omakase are available via Resy.

When identifying Portland’s “essential” restaurants, it seems only fitting to include Murata, downtown’s Japanese stalwart. Since 1988, Portlanders have stepped into its tatami rooms for dinners of miso soup, tonkatsu, and broiled mackerel, pots of soothing zosui filled with ribbons of egg, chirashi sporting generous slices of salmon and scallop. Murata is old-school in the best way, a style of Japanese restaurant becoming rarer and rarer with time; sitting in its dining room, mulling over crispy tempura or chicken teriyaki, induces a reinvigorating nostalgia hard to find elsewhere.

Chef Fatou Ouattara has become the city’s unofficial West African culinary ambassador, hosting cooking classes and selling sauces out of her Southeast Division restaurant. In a dining room lined with art, occasionally hosting spoken word poets and DJs, diners tear apart intricately spiced samosas and dunk them into Ouattara’s tomato and mustard-based sauces, balancing their acidity with ample use of alliums. Any meal should involve one of the restaurant’s stews — menus change, so one day, that might be Senegalese, peanut butter-rich mafe yapp, while other visits may involve fall-apart tender goat in a tomato-y base. Sides of supremely flavorful jolof rice and springy fufu are both musts.

The legacy of the space now home to Excellent Cuisine — a Southeast Division dim sum hall, loud and bustling on Saturday mornings — is a hard one to live up to; Wong’s King’s status as Chinese food royalty in Portland is well known. But the piping hot, delicately folded dim sum served here is at a caliber that may supersede its predecessor, with time. Wrappers of har gow retain the right spring, teeth ripping through to a core of juicy shrimp. Dumplings are clearly hand-made, filled generously but not too tightly for the right consistency after a steam. Sunny egg tarts and glistening buns make for a fine finish, easy to savor.

Going to this Southeast Division Southeast Asian restaurant always feels like a party, from the first popping boba Jell-O shot to the Fruity Pebble rice crispy treat eaten on the way out. In a funky dining room decked out in marine wallpaper, diners dunk impossibly flaky roti canai in an earthy squash curry, slurp decadent laksa broth from a bowl piled with rice noodles and shrimp, and gnaw on baby back ribs sticky with fish sauce caramel. However, the true move here is to order anything out of the charcoal oven, in particular the succulent, lacquered char siu, available as a platter or as the star of the wonton mee.

When the highly anticipated Filipino restaurant Magna opened in 2019, it was a great restaurant, one that got better every visit with homey bowls of pancit bihon and calamansi-scented sisig, still sizzling when it arrived at the table. But it seems that chef and owner Carlo Lamagna reaches a new level each time his restaurant passes an anniversary, not just as a chef but as a community leader — whether it’s organizing a fundraiser, serving as a mentor for a young chef, or hosting a pop-up. Magna holds space for both the supremely casual and the festive, whether it’s a skewer of charcoal-grilled pork intestine or silky squid ink noodles with just enough bite, coated in a beautiful crab fat sauce. But keep an eye out for those rotating seasonal dishes: On a recent visit, an octopus tentacle curled around a pool of coconut vinaigrette, meaty while retaining that bass note of char. Every meal must finish with a slice of springy, toasty-noted biko.

Chef Juan Gomez’s humility and warmth is so disarming, it may lead some to believe the meal ahead is going to be similarly colloquial and casual; think again. At this Pacific Northwestern Mexican restaurant, Gomez meticulously executes dishes with a clear point of view: earthy enmoladas topped with pieces of seared strip loin and nasturtium leaves, white asparagus tamales draped in petals of uni and foamy habanero egg sauce, Columbia River Chinook in an electric green aguachile, rolling in and out with the seasons. If possible, opt for a seat at the South Waterfront restaurant’s tasting counter, where you can watch Gomez plate each course with flowers from his spouse’s garden.

Tucked into a mini strip mall on Southeast Powell, Rose VL is the cheerful sister restaurant to Ha VL, serving those famous traditional Vietnamese soups with unending depth. Two to three different soups or noodles are served daily, along with brace-yourself strong Vietnamese iced coffee. Portlanders often flock on Saturday for cao lầu, a regional Vietnamese noodle dish with herbs and a tangy, savory sauce. However, it is simply impossible to go wrong, regardless of the soups available any given day.