When Javier Canteras opened his Northeast Alberta Basque restaurant Urdaneta more than a decade ago, he named it after his mother, leaning on the culinary traditions of the Northern Spanish region where he was born. But when he went to visit his grandmother
on his father’s side, Feliciana, he would head south, to the city of Córdoba in Andalucia, with its Moorish architecture and leaning palm trees.
Unlike the Basque country, known for bite-sized pintxos and char-blackened cheesecakes, Southern Spain has its own gastronomic language. Beachside shacks in Málaga selling skewered sardines grilled over olive-wood fires, bowls of chilled gazpacho or garlicky ajo blanco on the patios of tapas bars in Cádiz, slices of the rice-less and rich Granada-style morcilla (blood sausage). Seville oranges and Jaén olive oil and the amber-hued fortified wines of El Marco de Jerez, aptly known as the Sherry Region. “What you have there is essentially influence from the Moors for 1,000 years, Romans, and Jewish culture,” Canteras says. “You have influences from all of these cultures, all mashed up into one cuisine.”
Javier and Jael Canteras opened Urdaneta in a sliver of a space on Northeast Alberta in 2016, the evolution of their Basque Supper Club pop-up after Javier won $150,000 on the short-lived cooking competition show Restaurant Startup, mentored by the celebrity chef Joe Bastianich. At the pintxo bar, people snack on gildas (olives wrapped in boquerones on a skewer), crisp-crusted croquetas filled with jamón, and bikinis, teeny ham and cheese sandwiches of jamón serrano and American. Meals of lamb glazed with kalimotxo, a combination of cola and red wine, and grilled octopus tentacles with XO sauce, finished with slices of Javier’s Basque cheesecake, blackened top giving way to a fluffy, almost savory interior. This September, the Canteras will open their second restaurant, first reported by the Portland Business Journal in February, celebrating the food of Southern Spain in a sunny, spacious Slabtown dining room. This time, the Canterases are naming their restaurant for Javier’s grandmother: Feli.
Back in the day, Portland was seen as something of a hub for Spanish cooking in the United States, thanks to restaurants like Toro Bravo, Ataula, and Bar Casa Vale. These days, Urdaneta is one of the only Spanish restaurants in the city, other than the fairly new Vya and the Pearl District small plate emporium Irving Street Tapas, which often wanders into other global cuisines. No restaurant in Portland specifically focuses on the foods of Southern Spain. “My goal is to bring back that life of Spain in Portland,” Javier says, sitting on a bench in the plaza abutting his forthcoming restaurant’s space.
He and Jael agreed to meet me here, though the restaurant is a bit of a shell at this point. Jael walks me through hallways of support beams, pointing out future breezeblock walls and live plants in the hall that leads into the main dining room. Imagine if you will: swirly booths, ceruleans and sapphires met with ruddy browns and coppers and reds meant to mimic the combinations of desert and ocean found in the region; a blue tile, U-shaped bar next to the garage doors, which will open onto the plaza on warm days. Construction continues while we chat outside, occasionally pausing for a whir or clang. “A lot of people have asked us if this is going to be Urdeneta 2.0,” Jael says. “It’s kept a lot of the core principles of Urdaneta — open kitchen, level of service — but it’s gonna be its own thing.”
Those broader culinary influences are driving early drafts of Feli’s menu. Javier is leaning on Moroccan spice blends like ras el hanout, as well as the region’s proximity to the ocean — think crudos and other raw seafood preparations. The couple will make mojama, a dry-aged tuna dish, in-house, serving it simply with marcona almonds and olive oil, to let the complexity of its flavor shine. “They call it jamón of the sea,” Javier says.
From the land, expect Iberian pork cuts like presa (from the shoulder) or the pluma (a loin cut near the neck). The chef is giddy about the impending arrival of his Josper oven, a closed-door charcoal oven that can replicate Southern Spain’s charred, smoky flavors for grilled-then-chilled vegetable dishes as well as llauna rice: similar to paella but cooked in the eponymous pan, which gives the whole dish that socarrat-esque crispy bite. He’s planning to start with a duck version, both breast and confit, but other variations may involve coal-roasted mushrooms, quail, or seafood.
The llauna rice is just one of the larger-format dishes Javier has been considering. Another is a version of puchero, a stew of chickpeas and various cuts of meat. Instead of serving the whole dish as a single stew, he’d break up each component into its own course — broth, then chickpeas and vegetables, and finally meats like pork ribs, chorizo, and poultry. Some of those leftover meats may end up in a pressed sandwich known as a pringá, popular in Seville.
At the bar, sherry will be the primary focus, though having a dedicated bar space will allow the Canterases to invest more fully in a cocktail program. One cocktail they know they’ll have is rebujito, sherry with lemon-lime soda and mint. They’ll keep vermouth on tap, to serve over ice or with soda, as well as multiple zero-proof vermouths. Instead of kalimotxo, the bar will also serve its paler sibling, tinto de Verano: red wine with lemon-lime soda.
“I think this is going to be fun for the city,” Javier says. “Going out to eat is supposed to be fun, right?”
