Portland's Proposed Foie Gras Ban Solves Nothing That Actually Matters

Maybe it’s just me, but foie gras is as fatty and heavy as it gets, and at this point my metabolism has pretty clear opinions about such things. Maybe it’s because there are a few other great things I’d prefer to eat within the so-called “holy grail” category of gastronomy that includes fresh Perigord (or even Oregon) truffles, or the very best Jamón Ibérico from Spain. Most probably, it’s because almost 20 years ago, when I got into the culinary world, the obsession with foie gras of that era was fun for a bit, but also carried a sort of youthful arrogance that eventually got overplayed and became rather tiresome. There were restaurants like Pied de Cochon in Montreal that would seem to put foie gras on everything, and that culture of excess could feel more fratty than food-enthused. (I ate there once btw. It was delicious, but I felt like walking gout for the next two days). But that era was a very long time ago, and Montreal is 2,300 miles away from Portland, which never really had this type of vibe or culture at all. For the most part, there are just many other things I would choose over foie gras. But that’s just me.

But having said all that, here is the purpose of today’s sermon: Mitch Green’s proposed ban on foie gras does absolutely nothing for Portland, for its restaurant community, or in the grander scheme of things, for improving animal welfare at a scale that actually matters. It may even in fact harm the restaurant community by forcing the independent restaurants in town that serve foie gras with regularity (I counted only six of which I’m aware) to be put in a position of defending their use of ingredient that is, by most objective measures, far less harmful to animal welfare and to the environment than the average commercially raised chicken that’s sold at Fred Meyer or Safeway. Considering all of the challenges that restaurants face, and during the slowest time of the year, why would City Council choose to pick a fight with independent restaurants at all?

Banning foie is not a new idea. It has always been an attempt to score an easy political win by attacking an ingredient that, from the outside looking in, could symbolize class and excess—at least to the gastronomically uninformed. And by that measure, it’s an easy target I suppose, something to rile up the base—even despite the fact that it doesn’t really play a huge factor on Portland menus at all these days. That we would waste our civic breath on a fight that isn’t even that big of an issue in town kinda underscores just how misaligned our priorities have become.

Here is a fact.

Portland’s restaurant community represents the very best of what this city does well. There may well be other things that happen in Portland, Oregon, but culturally speaking, our food scene is as good as Portland culture gets.

Period.

For decades, Portland’s restaurant and food ecosystem has been as dynamic and excellent as any city in America, and has done more to drive Portland’s reputation than any other factor. And even as Portland’s reputation has suffered over the last five years, our restaurant community continues to deliver wins in the form of good press, positivity, James Beard Awards, and more. They are resilient, creative, stewards of Portland at its very best, and they deserve better.

Accordingly, at a moment when Portland is suffering on multiple levels, what we need from City Council are not ingredient bans as much as clear, durable strategies that help restaurants and all small business thrive, and thereby help the city move forward. And that takes work.

If the goal is to support Portland’s restaurant community, here are three places to start.

First, streamline permitting and inspections. The time, cost, and unpredictability of dealing with city bureaus is crushing small operators. Faster approvals, clear timelines, and a single point of accountability would do more for restaurants than any symbolic ban ever could.

Second, stabilize public safety and basic conditions within commercial corridors. Restaurants struggle when customers are hesitant to walk a few blocks, or when sidewalks and entrances are regularly difficult to navigate. In that context, it’s easy to see how a foie gras ban can feel disconnected from the day-to-day realities facing a small restaurateur in Old Town in 2026.

Third, partner with restaurants on activation, not regulation. Temporary street closures, more outdoor dining flexibility and coherency, and city-backed programming bring people out and create momentum. There are groups already doing this work, and I’m sure they would love the political support of City Council.

And zooming out, here are three big-picture moves that would actually move the city forward.

First, decide publicly whether Portland wants to be a city that grows small businesses, attracts talent, competes nationally, and thereby grows the tax base necessary to support the services on which we rely, and then align policy to that goal instead of undermining it piecemeal.

Second, protect and empower the institutions designed to do the work. Prosper Portland exists for a reason. Undercutting the few tools we have to stimulate growth doesn’t make a city more equitable, it makes it weaker. And that sends the wrong message of misaligned priorities to small businesses sticking it out during a tough time.

Third, govern for outcomes, not applause. Portland doesn’t need more symbolic fights or easy villains. It needs leadership willing to do the unglamorous work of fixing systems, funding what works, and being honest about tradeoffs. This gets tiresome.

And if the Portland City Council genuinely wish to cultivate a culture of animal welfare in Portland, there are far more effective, and less theatrical, ways to do it than banning an ingredient that now appears on just six restaurant menus citywide.

First, focus on scale, not symbolism. If animal welfare really is the concern, start where the harm actually is: industrial meat and poultry supply chains. The average conventionally raised chicken lives a far worse life than a foie gras duck, yet to my knowledge, I’m not aware of City policies that support higher-welfare sourcing at institutional levels: schools, hospitals, and public contracts—where real volume and leverage exist. Portland is full of talented and connected chefs who could visibly help lead the charge. (Please let me know if these programs exist).

Second, invest in education and transparency instead of prohibition. Portland could lead a public education campaign that could help Portlanders with food choices—and one that elevates and encourages supporting local producers. Changing behavior at the grocery store and the farmers market does infinitely more for animals than policing a half-dozen restaurants.

Third, show support for the farmers and restaurants who do it right. If the city wants better outcomes for animals, it could incentivize efforts by regional producers to transition to higher-welfare practices through grants, technical assistance, or preferential purchasing. Rewarding good actors builds a culture. Symbolic punishment just builds resentment.

Portland doesn’t need a symbolic ban. It needs leadership that understands how food systems actually work, how change happens on farms, in kitchens, and in markets—and how many of our chefs have worked tirelessly leading this charge. Education, incentives, and partnership move the needle. Prohibition just makes noise.