Salt and Time is the kind of place you feel like at any second Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein would walk in and make jokes out of us all for spending money here. It’s a butcher shop and restaurant crammed into an East 7th strip shopping center that looks like it was built yesterday. And it’s ironically located directly across the street from La Michoacana Meat Market (a no-frills Mexican market that no white transplant has been inside of) - you can’t help but feel the weight of gentrification in your overpriced roast beef sandwich. Despite the completely uninspiring location, the big windows let in lots of sunlight onto beautiful-looking plates that at least look impressive. They often sell out of multiple things on the menu, which is disappointing considering the menu is already sadly short.
Despite this, these people seemingly give many sh*ts about how to cook meat - a trade they know well. What a world we live in where men who look like second cousins to Lord Of The Rings warriors can charge fifteen bucks a pound of salted pig butt and nobody bats an eye at how strange this is. This is worth a glance if you’re from somewhere in suburban Ohio and never seen meat look so hip, but we can’t strongly recommend it beyond that.
This was a slam dunk of four chef-selected meats. When we ordered it, we received three different types of salami and a duck pate, presented with dynamite mustard and assorted pickled root vegetables.
I hear it’s the best in town. Sadly, I don’t know because they ran out of it after two hours of operation on a seemingly slow Friday lunch. I’m still confused by how this is possible.
The sandwich bread is disappointingly dry, which robs the seriously tasty meat of most of its mojo.
Despite not having a lot on tap, clap your hands for their long list of bottles and cans. There are an insane amount of options from local breweries and beyond that the selection can really set off your Portlandia-esque experience.