Portland has always been a weird place for food. If you walked down SW 9th Avenue a few years back, you probably noticed a sign that stopped you in your tracks: The Hairy Lobster. It sounds like a dare. Or maybe a biology mistake. Honestly, the name was a gamble that paid off because it signaled exactly what chefs David and Paige Spette were trying to do—create something that felt rooted in old-world tradition but looked entirely new.
The Hairy Lobster wasn't just a restaurant; it was a massive, ambitious project that attempted to redefine "American cuisine" by looking backward. Most people think "American food" means burgers or maybe some vague fusion. The Spettes disagreed. They built a menu around the idea of the "Century Concept," focusing on how people ate in the 19th and early 20th centuries, before everything became processed and sanitized.
Then it was gone.
The space is empty now. Or rather, it has moved on to other things. But the story of why it mattered—and why foodies still bring it up in Reddit threads about "best lost Portland spots"—is worth digging into.
What Was The Hairy Lobster, Anyway?
You’ve got to understand the pedigree here. David Spette wasn't some amateur. He came from a high-pressure background, including stints at the Four Seasons. When he and his wife Paige opened The Hairy Lobster in late 2015, they weren't interested in being another trendy bistro with Edison bulbs and avocado toast.
They wanted a tavern.
But not the kind of tavern where you get a greasy basket of fries. We're talking about a multi-room experience. The restaurant was divided into distinct sections: the "Office," the "Dining Room," and the "Tavern." Each had a slightly different vibe, but they all shared a commitment to shared plates.
The name itself? It’s a bit of a nod to the Kiwa hirsuta, a real-life deep-sea crustacean discovered in 2005. It’s white, it lives near hydrothermal vents, and it has "furry" claws. It’s an outlier. It’s strange. It’s exactly what the Spettes wanted their restaurant to represent in a sea of predictable dining options.
The Menu That Confused (and Delighted) Everyone
The food was... dense. Not heavy, but packed with thought. You couldn't just glance at the menu and know what to order. It was categorized into "Water," "Garden," and "Pasture."
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One of the most famous dishes—if you can call a vegetable side famous—was their roasted carrots. They weren't just carrots. They were served with a level of care usually reserved for a dry-aged steak. People still talk about the Harissa-charred octopus and the bone marrow with sourdough.
The Spettes were obsessed with sourcing. They didn't just buy "local." They looked for heritage breeds and forgotten vegetables. They used a wood-fired oven to give everything a specific, smoky depth that you just can't get from a standard commercial range.
It was fancy, sure. But it was also accessible. You could sit in the tavern area and have a drink and a few snacks without feeling like you needed to put on a suit. That's the Portland sweet spot. Or at least, it used to be.
Why the "Century Concept" Worked
Most chefs talk about "seasonal" cooking. It's a buzzword. At The Hairy Lobster, they took it a step further. They looked at historical cookbooks. They wanted to know how a cook in 1880 would handle a pig or a bushel of apples.
- Preservation: They did a lot of their own pickling and fermenting before it was the "cool" thing every hobbyist did in their kitchen.
- Whole-animal usage: If they bought a bird, you were going to see different parts of that bird across the menu.
- No shortcuts: Stocks were simmered for days. Sauces were reduced by hand.
It was labor-intensive. Incredibly labor-intensive. And in the restaurant business, labor is the thing that kills you.
The Sudden Exit and the "Sold" Sign
In early 2020, everything changed for everyone. But for The Hairy Lobster, the end didn't come with a long, drawn-out goodbye. It was relatively abrupt.
They closed their doors like everyone else when the pandemic hit. But they never reopened. By June 2020, the news broke that the Spettes were moving on. They didn't just close the restaurant; they left Portland entirely to head back to the East Coast, specifically the Charleston area.
There’s a lot of speculation about why. Some say the overhead of that massive space in the Pearl District was just too high to sustain during a lockdown. Others point to the changing climate of downtown Portland. Honestly? It was probably a mix of everything. Running a high-end, labor-heavy restaurant is exhausting. Doing it during a global health crisis is a nightmare.
The Spettes eventually popped up in South Carolina with a new project called The King Tide, which carried some of that same DNA but adapted to a completely different coastal environment.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Closure
People love to blame the "downfall of Portland" for every restaurant closure. It's a popular narrative. But with The Hairy Lobster, it was more nuanced.
The Pearl District was changing long before 2020. Rents were skyrocketing. The "shared plate" concept, while great for foodies, is actually a tough business model to scale. You need a high volume of customers who are willing to spend $80 to $150 per person on a variety of small dishes.
When the office workers disappeared and the tourists stopped coming, the math just didn't work anymore. It wasn't a failure of the food. The food was consistently ranked among the best in the city. It was a failure of the timing.
The Legacy of David and Paige Spette
If you look at the Portland food scene today, you can see the fingerprints of The Hairy Lobster everywhere. The focus on wood-fired cooking? That’s now a staple at places like Ox and Enoteca Nostrana. The obsession with heritage grains and "forgotten" American ingredients? You see that at Kachka and Quaintrelle.
The Spettes proved that you could be high-concept without being pretentious. They showed that "American food" has a history that is worth exploring beyond the 1950s diner aesthetic.
Why We Still Miss It
There was a specific feeling to walking into that restaurant. It felt like a library where you were allowed to eat the books. It was cozy but expansive.
The "Office" room, with its dark wood and bookshelves, was one of the best places in the city to have a serious conversation over a glass of bourbon. You don't find many places that offer that kind of intentional atmosphere anymore. Most new spots are designed to be "Instagrammable"—bright lights, white walls, neon signs. The Hairy Lobster was designed to be lived in.
Moving Forward: How to Find That Vibe Today
If you’re looking for the spirit of The Hairy Lobster in today's dining landscape, you have to look for the "soul" of the kitchen. You won't find a direct replacement, but you can find chefs who share that same obsessive dedication to the craft.
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Where to eat now if you loved The Hairy Lobster:
- Le Pigeon: For that same "chef-driven, no-rules" approach to high-end dining. Gabriel Rucker operates with a similar intensity to David Spette.
- Maurice: If you loved the whimsical, historical feel of the Spettes' pastry and decor, this "pastry luncheonette" captures that old-world magic perfectly.
- Coquine: For the level of ingredient sourcing and the feeling of being in a space that is truly "of its place."
Actionable Insights for the Savvy Diner
The story of The Hairy Lobster is a reminder that the restaurants we love are fragile. They aren't just businesses; they are the result of individuals pouring their entire lives into a specific vision.
- Support the "Weird" Concepts: If a restaurant has a name that confuses you or a menu that requires a dictionary, give it a chance. Those are usually the places where the most interesting things are happening.
- Check the Pedigree: Before you dismiss a new spot, look at where the chefs came from. The Spettes' success was built on decades of experience in world-class kitchens.
- Understand the "Pearl District Tax": When you eat in high-rent districts, a portion of your bill is going to the real estate, not the food. If you want more of your money going to the ingredients, look for these high-concept chefs in smaller, "scrappier" neighborhoods like Montavilla or St. Johns.
- Follow the Chefs, Not Just the Brand: When a favorite spot closes, find out where the staff went. David and Paige Spette took their talents elsewhere, and many of their former line cooks and servers are now running their own projects across the Pacific Northwest.
The Hairy Lobster might be a ghost now, but it remains a benchmark for what Portland dining can be when it stops trying to be "cool" and starts trying to be authentic. It was a restaurant that asked you to pay attention. And for a few years, we actually did.