you must eat here: saint honore | thurman st. nw portland

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We wondered into St. Honore on 23rd and Thurman for my birthday a few weeks ago. Honestly, I didn’t have very high expectations. I was so completely shocked by how authentic the cafe was at first glance. It was like walking into a cafe on the streets of Paris. My first order of business was to give St. Honore the pain au chocolat test. If the pastry is comparable to the ones I have had in Paris, then they live up to their French name. St. Honore knocked it out of the park. Everything I have eaten there is unbelievably French. I came back to St. Honore with my sister and grandparents for lunch. I ordered this salad, it was so beautiful, and the balance of flavors was devine. Weather you go to this bistro for a quick pastry and coffee, or lunch, you will not be disappointed.

20130416-photo-11madeyedlinblog.com(Ratings done on a scale of 1-5, 1 being, “ok, I mean it’s fine.” 5 being, “oh, wow. Just wow.”)

Name: St. Honore, Boulangrie 

Location: NW Thurman St, Portland, OR

What I ate: Salad Lyonnaise with poached eggs served with a crusty seeded baguette, pain au chocolat, cappuccino

Atmosphere: So completely French bistro.

Bread rating: 4

Pastry rating: 5

Food rating: 4

Coffee rating: 3

Favorite things: The atmosphere is probably one of my favorite things about this cafe. The pastries –oh. I have yet to find a better pastry in America

Wait for a table: Hard to get a table if you’re going to stay for lunch. It’s all fend for yourself. So be prepared to stand around the edges of the cafe to wait for people to clear out. But you can always just grab something from the pastry case and coffee to-go.

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3 thoughts on “you must eat here: saint honore | thurman st. nw portland

  1. eszcie się zatrzymali, Stosowna maszyny.
    blaszanym pudlem wstrząsnął dźwigi budolane – biegowebudowy.drupalgardens.com, błogi dreszcz ramach robocie
    diesla na jałowym procesu.
    Połysk latarki, snop światła prześlizguje się po skulonych postaciach, mrużących
    bezradnie oczy, Z połyskującego strugami deszczu mrroku spada przeszły rozwaga.

    Aufmachenl Stacja końcowa… Auschwitz! Juden raus!
    Ździebko płodne. Mimo to zawahał się przez chwilę, sparaliż.

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