In hindsight, Paradise Mariscos wasn’t built to last.
The seasonal Mexican seafood restaurant set up shop in a former garage behind Northeast Portland torta shop Güero, serving tuna tostadas, black cod flautas and tropical drinks to a parking lot patio kept cool by verdant plants and overhead misters.
It was just about perfect, but there was a problem.
“We were operating on a bunch of COVID leniencies,” owner Megan Sanchez says today. “Everything looked Ok on paper. But then (the county) came around and said, ‘Well, we don’t love your plumbing. But you can reopen next week if you sort this and that.”
After taking the winter off, Paradise returned last month with a new setup and an entirely new concept: Paradise Hamburguesas. Instead of Mariscos’ oysters and chorizo butter grilled in a jury-rigged kitchen, Hamburguesas — I keep wanting to add a Güero-style umlaut in there — is slinging burgers and ice cream from a gleaming food truck parked in front of a well-stocked outdoor bar.
As you might know, Güero already serves a burger inspired by the hamburguesas served alongside tacos on the streets of Mexico. At Paradise, a No. 1 Hamburguesita with jalapeño, onion and American cheese is just a starting point. Here it’s joined by The Ivy Royale, a towering construction with grilled ham and pineapple, onion and jalapeño, avocado, hot dog, melted American cheese and queso botanero, chile mayo and ketchup mixed with the carrot-habanero salsa from next door. Scrunched inside its fluffy bun, you might not even notice the thin burger patty lurking underneath.
That might be fitting, since two of Paradise’s best sandwiches don’t have beef at all. The Camarones is a shrimp burger with cucumber, papaya, lime mayo, sal de gusano (the worm salt sometimes found on margarita rims) and shrimp held in place by crisp, melted cheese. (If you’re tired of waiting for Demarco’s Sandwiches to bring back their excellent shrimp burger, this is the one to try.)
Perhaps even better is the Relleno Deluxe, a chile relleno sandwich with a pint-sized poblano pepper oozing with Oaxacan and American cheeses, plus added crunch from fresh pico de gallo and a black corn tostada, served on the same An Xuyen bakery buns, only inverted so the griddled center hits your tongue first.
The menu at Paradise HamburguesasMichael Russell | The Oregonian
That my favorite Paradise sandwich doesn’t have beef shouldn’t be surprising. At Güero, my go-to torta order has long been the Masa y Papa, a two-starch textural marvel that shows off Sanchez’ commitment to making vegetarian dishes that don’t rely on fake meat.
Among the botanas, Paradise offers hard-to-quit palitos (crunchy, fry-shaped wheat chips) brightened with lime and Valentina hot sauce, and juicy green honeydew melon slices mixed with avocado and lime and served under a shower of serrano seco. The elote was tasty, if slathered on our first visit with enough herb mayo and cotija to make a side of garlic bread and still have enough for the whole ear of corn. And while I appreciated the fresh veggies, I found the bass notes of pumpkin seed in a jicama and endive salad’s sikil p’ak dressing didn’t harmonize with its high notes of sour lime.
Paradise gets its ice cream from nearby Staccato, including two sorbets you can order alone or as frozen cocktails, but the best of the lot was the smooth, ice-chip-free chocolate-sesame-lime gelato. Other drinks, including bombas of beer, bottles of Mexican wine and a forceful margarita made with Tapatio Blanco 110 proof tequila, come from beverage guru Ben Skiba.
After the county visited last year, Paradise Mariscos operations briefly moved indoors to Güero as Sanchez obtained a quote to build a proper kitchen out back. The estimate came to $200,000.
So Sanchez did something she thought she would never do again: She went shopping for a food cart.
If you’ve been in Portland long enough, you might recall that Güero started life in a trailer parked just a few blocks south of its current location. But that vintage Airstream wasn’t exactly built to serve food.
“The original trailer on 28th still had carpeting and a camp stove when we bought it,” Sanchez says. “And it had this gas-powered refrigerator with some fish inside that someone had left from six months before.”
Compared to the cost of building out a new kitchen, buying a spacious new $45,000 trailer was a bargain.
“And it actually ended up being sort of therapeutic to get this sparkly trailer made for us,” Sanchez says.
Paradise Hamburguesas opens from 4 to 10 p.m. Thursday-Friday and noon to 10 p.m. Saturday-Sunday at 2821 N.E. Davis St., in the parking lot behind Northeast 28th Avenue sandwich shop Güero. Prices range from $9 for the No. 1 Hamburguesita to $15 for the Ivy Royale.
Read more:
Paradise Mariscos brings Mexican seafood, ‘escapism’ to Northeast Portland parking lot
— Michael Russell; mrussell@oregonian.com
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