Oregon Travels, Part III: Jory Restaurant
Newberg, OR — A private dining room behind closed doors holds work colleagues relaxing at a sit-down, the terrace is occupied by high schoolers in tuxes and gowns posing for prom photos, and a large table by the floor-to-ceiling windows is celebrating a birthday. From the get-go, you know that the Jory at The Allison Inn & Spa in the Willamette Valley is the place that people flock to for special occasions.
As for me, it was an invitation by Travel Oregon do dine last month that brought me to this fine-dining establishment, where the tables are candle-lit and come with warm towels overlaid with a sprig of rosemary from its own garden for your hands.
Indeed, the bounty from the 1.5-acre chef’s garden and greenhouse on the property is featured in the restaurant’s dishes. That includes 300 pounds of honey produced annually by its bee hives.
The executive chef is Jack Strong, formerly of the Camelback Inn Resort & Spa in Scottsdale, who co-authored the cookbook, “The New Native American Cuisine.” He grew up on the Oregon coast as a member of the Siletz tribe.
While his cooking at Jory can lean into modernist techniques at times, he also is a proponent of indigenous foods of the Pacific Northwest. Book a nine-course private Chef’s Table dinner and he’ll even prepare a special native foods tasting menu focused on indigenous culinary traditions.
My husband I were guests for the regular dining room tasting menu. What’s great about this one is there are options for how many courses you want. The four-course is $125 (or $200 with wine pairings); the five-course is $150 (or $235 with wine pairings). If you want four courses, but your dining companion wants five, you’re able to do that. There are even optional supplemental courses. However, if you opt for the seven-course chef’s experience at $185 (or $290 with wine), all guests in your party must follow suit.
My husband went with four courses while I decided on five courses, with each course except for the cheese one allowing you to choose from among three different dishes.
Jory boasts an extensive list of Oregon wines, which can be thumbed through on a tablet. Because this is Pinot country, I gravitated toward a 2022 Lemelson “Thea’s” Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley ($8), rich with earthiness yet also lovely cherry, raspberry, and black tea notes. After wine tasting all afternoon, my husband went with the zero-proof Vere Solis ($14) that he joked was rather girly pink. Made with lemonade, lime, and soda water, it got a fabulous jolt of citrus acidity from blood orange shrub. If you’re looking for a big refresher, this is it.
The amuse arrives looking like a piece of toast with an egg on top. It’s definitely a toasted pie-shaped wedge of brioche on the bottom. But it’s crowned with a solid Champagne vinaigrette (the white) and a sphere of mango gel (the orange). Take a bite and it’s sharp and tangy like a salad.
Parker house rolls are warm, fluffy, and absolutely sensational with lemon-rosemary butter.
My husband’s first course was scallop crudo done up with miso uni mousse that he found fairly subtle in taste, blood orange foam, squid ink pearls, and grated ginger done up to mimic sand.
My coriander cured salmon was bright and light with rolled up thinly sliced cucumbers, pickled fennel, and an abundance of parsley sprigs from the garden.
His second course was silky Alaskan halibut atop celeriac puree, and black olive caramel along with bagna cauda sauce that combined to taste like a delicious tapenade. Note to self: Use olives more with fish.
My squab dish featured a pan-roasted breast plus a fantastic confit leg that had been lightly battered and fried to a lacy crisp. An acorn puree flavored with elephant garlic added a creamy nuttiness.
At this point, an intermezzo arrives in a clear glass. Lemonade foam dusted with sumac hides a sphere of cucumber, apple, and ginger. You down it in one shot, marveling at how it tastes like cucumber gazpacho.
My husband couldn’t pass up a supplemental course of seared foie gras ($30). It was finished with frozen, grated hazelnut butter and a dollop of huckleberry jam, making it taste almost like a playful HB&J. Good thing the server thought ahead to bring me a share plate.
For my entree, I went with the Oregon sturgeon, expertly pan-seared and crowned with sturgeon caviar, that was finished with a pour of vibrant green garlic veloute at the table.
My husband’s “Iberico pork tasting” spotlighted house-made, smoky and slightly spicy andouille sausage, along with slices of pork that actually had an unusual gray pallor like boiled meat. When we inquired if perhaps the pork had been cooked sous vide, the response was that it hadn’t been, that this was the characteristic appearance of this type of pork. It was tender enough, though I found it salty.
Because I went with the five-course menu, I received a cheese course of whipped Briar Rose Creamery fromage blanc and Rogue Creamy Rogue River Blue cheese in a tiny tart crust with port gel, fig and concord grape jelly, and a sprinkle of chopped pistachios. It tasted sharp and piquant like a savory cheesecake.
For dessert, my husband enjoyed the “duo of huckleberry,” which featured a small class of huckleberry tea, and a teeny huckleberry popsicle that was ridged, making it look like a miniature cranberry solid cranberry sauce right out of the can. There were little squares of almond sponge cake, and a quenelle of goat cheese mousse to round out the plate.
My “celebration of bees” was exactly that, complete with cute little bees fashioned out of white chocolate. They were hidden under a honeycomb tuille canopy perched over a not-too-sweet honey and yuzu tart that was served with pinenut-rosemary brittle.
Mignardises arrive in a large, lidded box: citrus madeleine, coconut macaroon, hazelnut fudge, and caramel truffle. Unlike most establishments that present two of each, there is only one of each kind, so you and your dining companion can either choose amicably or arm wrestle for your favorites.
A nice parting touch is the gift of a small satchel of lemon-rosemary Jacobsen Salt. Each diner receives one, so there’s no worry of fighting over that — just maybe the check.
More: Oregon Travels, Part I: Kiyokawa Family Orchards
