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“The 19th-century Americana and DIY energy that became associated with Brooklyn dining were arguably transplanted from Portland. At Le Pigeon, one of the defining restaurants of mid-aughts Portland, bucking tradition remains pleasingly de rigeuer and unapologetically deranged. Lobster-stuffed fried chicken, a recent dish that could have merely been a dare, instead crams the luxury of lobster bisque inside of a fried hunk of chicken breast, the richness cut just enough by bright spring peas and slaw. The logic of the lobster fried chicken is a dogged quest to overload all pleasure centers in the weirdest possible way. Eating it makes you want to die, but happily.” — J. Kenji López-Alt
The 19th-century Americana and DIY energy that became associated with Brooklyn dining were arguably transplanted from Portland. At Le Pigeon, one of the defining restaurants of mid-aughts Portland, bucking tradition remains pleasingly de rigeuer and unapologetically deranged. Lobster-stuffed fried chicken, a recent dish that could have merely been a dare, instead crams the luxury of lobster bisque inside of a fried hunk of chicken breast, the richness cut just enough by bright spring peas and slaw. The logic of the lobster fried chicken is a dogged quest to overload all pleasure centers in the weirdest possible way. Eating it makes you want to die, but happily.