Wine might be my favorite alcoholic beverage amongst the mix, and yet I have to admit that a wine bar is one of the last places you’ll find me hanging out. When a glass of Pinot is almost the same cost as a bottle of something decent at a grocery store, it’s a hard sell to convince me to leave the house to drink good wine.

In recent months though, it feels like something has shifted. A recent stroll to window shop bottles at a locally-focused grocery store signaled to me that this is changing, as bottles that were once $20-25 are climbing into the $30+ category. With this in mind, I suppose it further encouraged me to stop into a wine bar for a glass of something intentionally chosen for less than $20. (We could also talk about the fact that there are, in fact, places in Portland who are selling $20+ glasses of wine but that’s a rant I don’t want to start.)

Negociant is the neighboring daytime concept from the same folks behind Bar Diane, who opened the business as a pandemic-era response to their patrons’ needs for takeaway snacks and sandwiches alongside thoughtfully selected wines. Negociant feels very inspired by the concept of French bistro meets Italian deli, and they’re not alone in that influence. The pandemic gave many neighborhoods in Portland this kind of elevated market approach, where cured meats and fancy canned beverages satiated the 2020-2021 desire to have novel experiences indoors and on the picnic blanket outdoors. Many of these small markets and deli concepts have stuck around despite the return to indoor dining; since most of their pantry offerings are shelf stable and require little front-of-house assistance, it’s a more feasible idea to keep alongside a full-fledged restaurant.

And yet, despite having an easy walkup counter to purchase dry goods and takeaway items, it felt kind of awkward to me that Negociant had full table service at their less than 20-seat restaurant. Another rant I could go on is how we’re expected to tip the same percentage at walkup counters where we have to bus our own dishes in Portland, but in this particular moment the space simply felt more conducive to that approach. Sure, it was nice to have someone to talk to and bring me my food, but it didn’t feel necessary. A strange and small observation I made, though, was that they gave me a full water bottle to refill my own glass, which was a relief. Is anyone else bothered by the act of having your glass refilled (or over-refilled) for you? It’s such a particular nuance that I probably take more notice since I also work in restaurants.

Being a daytime wine bar-meets deli, there were the usual suspects on the menu—charcuterie boards, oysters on the half-shell, wines by the glass, and sandwiches on nice sourdoughs and house-made milk rolls (if you haven’t had a milk roll from either Negociant or Bar Diane, this is your signal to go do it asap).

I ordered a tuna melt sandwich ($15.50) and swapped out the sandwich bread for the milk rolls ($1 extra), along with a glass of white wine ($14), a cup of tomato soup ($7), and 2 oysters at happy hour price ($2/each). I don’t get too bothered by things like this, as in they don’t heavily influence my impression of a place, but it’s probably worth mentioning that my sandwich arrived with the wrong bread and my tomato soup was cold. There was no microwave to reheat the soup, so both items had to be sent back and re-made/reheated in the self-heated soup container. I’ve been there, where several things go wrong at once for no reason other than life deciding to play amusing games on the service industry. The total cost after tip was $48.60 (I left a 20% tip).

I have to admit, I was pretty underwhelmed at the portions of my food. Again, this column doesn’t exist to serve as an attack on restaurant menu pricing. I understand that it’s mostly the cost of ingredients that drive the menu pricing at a restaurant. However, I feel that it’s still worth explaining how I felt a little nervous to order other items on the menu that stood out to me more, but felt apprehensive because of the price. I’m thinking about the nicoise-esque salad that cost $22.50, or the cheese boards that felt a little expensive for one person but more reasonable if shared.

I think the facet I enjoyed the most about Negociant is the interior. With its high ceiling, big windows, and checkerboard flooring, it’s hard not to be charmed by the place, which transported me into some European daydream and away from NW 21st Street. Admittedly, that stretch of the block still has some unsavory characters; in fact, I first sat outdoors before enough activity encouraged me to opt for the indoor ambiance instead

I don’t think I would return to Negociant unless I was a regular patron of elevated deli goods and wine. As I mentioned at the beginning of this piece, I’m not much of a wine bar patron in general, so it’s hard to convince me to drink wine anywhere else other than a restaurant with a small wine selection or…my backyard on a glorious summer day.

Ambiance: 8/10
Service: 7/10
Food: 6/10

The owners behind Guay Tiew also run Khao Moo Dang on Hawthorne and Rukdiew Cafe on Belmont — so this isn’t a debut so much as an expansion of something already working. Their latest is a noodle soup-focused spot off NW 10th and Flanders. Guay tiew translates to noodle soup, but is synonymous with guay tiew ruea — boat noodles — a dish built around a rich and complex long-cooked broth.

The menu is focused without feeling thin. You pick a soup: options include the namesake boat noodle, along with the growingly familiar tom yum and khao soi, plus a few others – then choose your noodle, a component that’s specific to true ordering style in Thailand: egg noodle or one of several types of rice noodle. There are a handful of over-rice options too, including khao kaa moo (braised pork over rice) and khao haang (dry style), which swaps broth for rice in what would otherwise be one of their soups. Everything on the menu runs between $15 and $20.

Yes. A menu that tops out at $20.

I ordered the yen ta fo with thin rice noodles: a hot and sour pink soup, colored by fermented bean curd, originally brought to Bangkok by Chinese immigrants. Traditionally it comes with tofu, fish balls, and squid. Here it’s topped with various forms of pork instead, which I understand: fish balls are a harder sell in the States, and adding seafood would’ve broken the price ceiling the menu is clearly trying to hold. Still, I noted the absence. The bowl was $16, medium-sized, with fair portions of protein and noodles. I ordered a chrysanthemum drink for $3 alongside it — cold and faintly sweet, it felt necessary to contrast the spice of the soup.

After tip, I spent $23.

One gripe: the QR code ordering system from your phone. Pandemic-era tech that mostly exists, at this point, to collect your email address.

I loved the ambiance. Neon signs framed the ordering counter in a way that reminded me of the food stalls inside Bangkok’s malls: bright, a little chaotic, and unassuming in the best way. The open-air window along the street was open, and the afternoon was coming through it. I ate the yen ta fo at a small table by myself, and there was something easy about being there. Not precious. Not performative. Just a bowl of something packed with flavor and unpretentious presentation.

That’s harder to find than it sounds, especially at this price point.

At $15–$20 a bowl, Guay Tiew sits comfortably alongside other fast-casual options in the city — which makes it genuinely useful in a way a lot of new Portland restaurants aren’t. Lunch, pre-show dinner, a solo meal on a Tuesday when you don’t feel like cooking. My only real concern is the new-restaurant cycle: the first wave of attention, then the slow unpredictable stretch that follows. Too many places in this city don’t make it past that stretch.

Guay Tiew is the kind of place that should.

Overall ratings:
Service - 3/5
Atmosphere - 5/5
Food quality - 4/5

Address: 330 NW 10th Avenue Portland, OR 97209

About the diner: Katrina Yentch is an editor at Between Courses and a freelance writer from Los Angeles. She’s been covering the food and beverage scene in the United States since 2016, with former staff positions at Barista Magazine and Imbibe Magazine. You can find her writing scattered across various domestic publications like Travel Portland, Eater PDX, Bon Appétit Magazine, and Food 52.

Inflation Eats is a new column on dining out in Portland from the lens of a solo diner. From food cost to portions, hospitality, in-house vibe, and overall experience, this is a realistic look at what you’ll get with your money in this town today.

Inflation Eats isn’t coming from someone who barely glances at the check and moves on. This is by someone who is intentional about limiting where and when she chooses to eat out— someone who’s going to seriously consider how the weight of that added (and often expected) 20% tip influences where she decides to go.

Inflation Eats isn’t an attack on the cost of restaurants, but rather an observation of how today’s inflated cost of goods is affecting the restaurant industry as a whole.

About the diner: Katrina Yentch is an editor at Between Courses and a freelance writer from Los Angeles. She's been covering the food and beverage scene in the United States since 2016, with former staff positions at Barista Magazine and Imbibe Magazine. You can find her writing scattered across various domestic publications like Travel Portland, Eater PDX, Bon Appétit Magazine, and Food 52.