What a relief to report that Bresca is a superb addition to Portland’s dining roster. I say relief because there had been heaps of braise initially, and I was afraid it wouldn’t deliver. Essentially proprietor Krista Kern is the flowering of a remarkable chef holding court in the tiniest kitchen in Portland.

Some people think that the city needs more causal dining choices, which is a euphemism for cheap eats. On the contrary. For a metropolitan area of 250,000, there’s lots of room for the fabulous. For once Portland looms large in a small world.

As you know I abhor tiny restaurants and their tiny tables and tinny seats; cramped quarters for big food is as unappetizing as battery fluid. But I’m happy to make an exception for Bresca. It’s so small the opening of the front door is almost an intrusion. Yes, I’d like the dining experience to have been in a in a large, airy comfortable room. But so what.

Still there’s an appealing intimacy about the space. There may not be enough room for dancing in the aisles, but plenty of reason instead to celebrate Bresca’s existence in Portland.

You don’t feel like you’re in makeshift surroundings at all. The decor is actually very appealing as though you were in the small but grand entry hall of a Roman villa just big enough to cater to 18 diners. The tables are standard size and close together. But once the food is put before you it’s easy to ignore any minor distractions.

So what is Bresca exactly?

Intense: Intensely delicious, intensely prepared and intensely paired amalgamations of flavor and texture. It would be easy to classify it as Italian fare. It’s not really. There’s a Mediterranean sensibility but wholly unique is Kern’s style and choice of arrangements

The food ultimately is different--as it should be--than any other good restaurant in Portland. In larger cities it‘s natural to have many restaurants of similar bearing in different neighborhoods. Here no one is stepping on culinary toes.

There are four parts to the menu plus a small desert selection. Every choice tantalizes. If I made one mistake it was to order too much food. I thought I could get away with it if the portions were small enough. But everything sounded so good I wanted to try as many dishes as possible. My meal was a 5-course affair when it should have been 3-courses plus desert.

The menu begins with Before. These are small plates, amuse buche, like little teases warming up your palate. There’s local honeycomb and Pecorino Romano; Chorizo and Gorgonzola stuffed dates; fried almonds with lavender; shaved Brussels sprouts with toasted walnuts, Parmesan and Pecorino; and olive oil and seared chicken livers with balsamic vinegar and bitter sweet chocolate and raisins.

I chose the Brussels sprouts, a preparation that gave this otherwise fall vegetable new life and glamour. My companion had the chicken livers, rich little morsels that glistened beautifully under a hint of chocolate.

The following course, First, is basically appetizers. Here the selection is just as flawless. The latest culinary craze that chefs are serving is shaved foie gras-- slivers of poached foie gras over various ingredients. Here it rested on caramelized spiced pineapple along with brioche toast and dandelion greens. I could have stopped there. The dish is quite rich. The pineapple is to die for. And if you’re a fan of foie gras and don’t live in Chicago where it’s illegal, it’s an indulgence that can be forgiven.

My companion who loves beets, ordered salt roasted beets over Burrata, a cow’s milk or buffalo milk cheese similar to mozzarella except that its silky, nonelastic texture is wrapped in a delicate skin. If you haven’t tried it, you must. I’m not sure if any of our cheese purveyors sell it in the Portland area but if you come across it, as you do at Bresca, you’re in for a treat.

The next offering is Pasta. You can order a main course or first course portion. Here I found that including that in the roster of dishes was just too much food if followed by a main course. Nonetheless, indulge. It’s worth it.

I chose the gnocchi, which when prepared badly are true disasters, resembling hub caps. Kern’s version is delicate downy puffs personified. It was served with a charred tomato sauce with olives and basil, which in itself was extraordinary. This is another must have dish.

My dinner mate ordered the other pasta selection, called Kerchiefs. These are basically “lazy” ravioli in which the filling is not enclosed but rather laid on top of the square noodle, like an open kerchief. Over it was a spellbinding compilation of speck, a version of Prosciutto, watercress and duck egg fried in olive oil, mixed with pine nuts, capers, brown butter and shaved Parmesan. What the heck. It’s another must-have dish.

The final course is called Second. If you’re to choose only one main course, then try the honey glazed duck breast. Here the breast is under a canopy of spices described on the menu as Roman trading spices—cinnamon, cloves, pepper— the breast is so wondrously scented it might have been assembled by that ancient Spice Trade era’s leading chef from the Crusades. Along with it was a mascarpone polenta and caramelized orange and shallot. One more marvel: the breast meat was so tender, you wonder if some wave of alchemy hadn’t presided.

Other main courses include rib eye steak, braised pigs feet, rabbit fricassee and roasted whole fish.

My companion ordered the rabbit, but quite frankly I was too preoccupied with my duck dish to take notice. I heard no complaints, however.

Krista Kern in all her young years has an impressive resume, having worked in kitchens in Paris, New York and Las Vegas. Her specialty is as a pastry chef. For an instant she presided over the pastry menu at the short-lived Commissary. I went there one night; it was only a few weeks before its final demise. The food was good but the pastries were brilliant.

Now we know that Kern is a gifted chef in both arenas, a state of ambidextrous expertise hard to beat.

Therefore save room for desert because if you thought dinner was phenomenal, the meal isn’t over yet.

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