The dining room at Toro Bravo fits maybe sixty people, and on a Friday night every one of those seats is spoken for. There’s a line on the sidewalk on Northeast Russell. This is expected. What’s less expected, if you’ve been told you’re walking into a tapas place, is how un-fussy the whole operation feels once you’re inside — no drama, no tableside theatrics, no menu that requires a glossary.
John Gorham opened Toro Bravo in 2007, and for a stretch it was the most talked-about restaurant in Portland. That era of breathless coverage has passed, which is actually to the place’s benefit. The regulars have settled in. The servers know what they’re doing. The food has had fifteen-plus years to find its footing, and it shows in every plate that comes out of that kitchen.
The cooking is Spanish in spirit but not in any strict academic sense. Gorham has described it as food he wished he could eat every night, which is a decent explanation for why the menu holds together so well. The anchovy toast — butter, good anchovies, a crust that holds its crunch — is the kind of thing you order first and then reorder before the rest of the table has finished. The fried chickpeas with piperade are a standard that the kitchen has been turning out so long they’ve stopped thinking about it, which means they’re perfect. Get the meatballs with poached egg. Get the patatas bravas, which arrive properly sauced rather than politely dabbed. If morcilla is on that night, don’t skip it.
The point is to order several small things and eat in a particular rhythm — a little arrives, you eat it, a little more arrives. It requires a waiter who can pace that well, and at Toro Bravo they generally can. Budget somewhere around $45 to $65 per person with drinks, more if you work through the wine list seriously. The list leans Iberian and is good without being precious about it.
The neighborhood is Northeast Portland, just off the main drag of Mississippi, close enough to walk after browsing the shops on that strip. The room itself is warm in the way that older Portland restaurants tend to be — wood, low light, the sound of conversation that isn’t trying to compete with a sound system. It gets loud, but not oppressively so.
First-time visitors sometimes arrive expecting something precious: small plates arranged with tweezers, combinations designed to demonstrate technique. Toro Bravo doesn’t go there. The food is direct. The flavors are legible. You finish dinner satisfied in a way that isn’t always guaranteed at places with this kind of reputation.
Reservations are accepted but don’t cover every seat, so walk-ins do get in, particularly if you’re flexible about when you eat or willing to sit at the bar. Earlier in the week is easier than the weekend. The bar itself is a fine place to eat — you can watch the room and order at your own pace without feeling managed.
It’s not the newest restaurant in the city. It’s not trying to be. Toro Bravo has simply been good at the same thing for a long time, and in a food scene that cycles through trends quickly, that kind of consistency is worth more than it used to be.
