I love an underdog. And don’t mistake “underdog” for powerless. Underdogs have dormant superpowers, just waiting for us regular folk to notice and unleash them.

Let’s face it, we love underdogs because they scratch that deep human itch for fairness, hope and justice. When someone with fewer resources and no interest in winning the popularity contest comes out on top, it reminds us that grit can kick privilege in the ass. Hallelujah. We need something to balance out all the shitheads winning.

Okay, bit of a rant, but there’s a superhero chef peddling sublime simplicity over at Seize the Cafe, 2465 Hilyard Street.

Chad Fuhreck, aka Clark Kent, puts on his cape, aka apron, and somehow the simplest ingredients come out ready to save the damn day.

The first time I walked into Seize, I thought, “What in the holy restaurant ruckus is going on here?” Someone was pounding out pie shells like they were slugging a home run. Soup cups stacked on a running convection oven rattled like they were waiting for the Big One. Two KitchenAid mixers added their own industrial soundtrack, and boxes were tucked pretty much everywhere.

If you’re a kitchen veteran, you know how triggering this shit is. Every instinct says, “Get up and fix it, or run.” But I stayed in my lane, placed my order and grabbed a scrappy little table.

First up, mushroom and Swiss sando, salad and soup. My sweet server, genuinely friendly service being one of the wins here, set down a plate that looked pretty basic. Then I took a bite.

Homemade sourdough, sour as sourdough can get, with a tender structure and crunchy crust. Lots of creamy, buttery mushrooms, Swiss (tasted like Gruyère), arugula, mayo and Dijon, with a pillowy gem salad perfectly dressed. The sandwich was $10, $12 with salad, and melt-in-your-mouth amazing. 

Seriously, who in town is making their own sourdough and selling a sandwich like this for 10 bucks? No one, that’s who.

The soup of the day was delicious, and a bowl for $6?! Perfectly cooked lentils, veggies and a broth seasoned with actual herbs. Worth a shout-out because this one didn’t take the typical lazy soup route of using salt as the seasoning. Soup needs herbs and spices willing to throw elbows. Salt shouldn’t get to be Godzilla.

So, naturally, I returned for dinner, expecting the same midday cacophony. Nope. Come dinnertime, Seize has apparently grabbed a bottle off its own wine list and chilled the hell out.

Dinner happens Thursday through Saturday, 5 pm to 8 pm, and with just 40-ish seats, reservations are pretty much a must. Three nights, three hours, 40 seats. Get your shit together and plan ahead.

For dinner, Fuhreck sources meat, seafood and produce from local greats, makes pasta fresh daily, and does something almost unheard of in our more-is-more world: He gives you four fucking choices. Cue the angel chorus. Three entrées and an appetizer. The menu goes up on Facebook by Wednesday, and if you don’t like those four choices, perhaps the Cheesecake Factory has a 19-page menu waiting for you.

And here’s the kicker: Fuhreck cooks every order himself. No army of sous chefs behind the curtain. Just one badass chef, a simple menu and no fear of the line. Throughout the night, he steps out to roll fresh pasta to order on the same counter where pie shells were bam-bamming their way through lunch.

I’ve dined here several times and have yet to catch a villainous meal sneaking past our caped crusader. Although, Chad, ahem, fresh pasta should never be al dente, and if it’s rolled too thick, a Nonna is waiting to slap you with a rolling pin.

Halibut with caper white-wine beurre blanc, baked jasmine rice and tender-crisp vegetables, $28. Newsflash, unless it’s mirepoix, vegetables deserve color, texture and a little fight left in them. Roasted black cod with romesco sauce, black rice and roasted veggies, also $28. Beautifully cooked fish, knockout sauces and sides that fit like a glove.

One appetizer damn near stole the show: Salpicón de mariscos, lobster, mussels and octopus with brunoise vegetables in a bright citrus-herb dressing over arugula and watercress. Fresh, beautiful, enough for two and only $15.

Are these plates zhuzhed within an inch of their lives? Hell no. No tweezers. No edible flowers at 11 o’clock. No mysterious swoosh of purée requiring an explanation. Fuhreck puts great food on a plate and sends it out. Turns out, when you skip culinary arts and crafts hour, you can serve lobster for $15 and black cod for $28. That may be his greatest superpower.

Dessert deserves its own damn paragraph because I suspect Fuhreck’s secret identity is pastry chef. 

Chef Chad Fuhreck started on the hot line at just 15. He later cooked at Seattle’s multi-James Beard Award-winning Canlis, staged under the legendary chef Joël Robuchon in Paris, spent six months studying pastry at L’Univers Lenôtre, then returned to the Pacific Northwest as head chocolatier and master taster for Theo Chocolate.

Theo gets a big chef’s kiss from me, so imagine my delight learning Fuhreck makes chocolate bars at Seize. I haven’t gotten my grubby little hands on one yet, but I’m pretty damn optimistic.

Forget the pedigree on paper. These are my kind of underdog credentials. Years in the trenches, learning from the masters and apparently tasting a shit-ton of chocolate along the way. Lucky bastard.

And it shows. Fuhreck and his baking Wonder Woman turn out excellent fruit pies, fantastic tarts and the occasional Paris-Brest or cream puff. (Not Paris breasts. Behave yourselves.)

My only gripe: these beauties deserve a refrigerated pastry case. And while I’m spending Chad’s money, turn adjoining Seize the Pizza into bakery headquarters. Give your baking hero a bigger kingdom, move the slugger pie dough and mixer madness behind the Seize scene, and release the Kraken on those bakery wins I’m sensing. Pizza in Eugene is common. Seize is not.

A true hero saves the day, smiles through the pain, drops a classic line, then heads into the sunset. I imagine Chad after service, tossing his apron, aka cape, into the hamper, doing a toe-touch stretch and uttering his superhero catchphrase: “Fuck, my back hurts.”

Then off he goes, having once again seized the day for a whole lot of very well-fed Eugeneans.

Carpe diem, citizens.

3.5 out of 4 Salt Shakers 🧂🧂🧂½

Find The Salty Chef in the Weekly every month. The identity is under wraps so restaurants have the best chance of serving an honest meal instead of putting on a show. The Salty Chef has a lifetime of experience in professional kitchens across multiple states, is a native Oregonian, and someone with a healthy appetite for great food, sassy opinions and calling it like they taste it.