In the great game of musical chairs that is Canberra's unpredictable dining scene, a closed door and an empty space feels a bit ... abrupt.
But that, apparently, is how the legendary Portia's Place has chosen to depart the scene - no fanfare, no announcement, no commentary on the dining landscape.
And a week out from the federal budget, no less.
But it was simply time to go - word on the street is that the current owners simply wanted to retire.
All power to them - but it's a timely reminder to all of us not to take places like Portia's for granted.
It's a quiet and unceremonious end to a venue that has famously hosted a few decades' worth of politicians and their staffers,
A solid Cantonese eatery, it opened in 1996, with a brass plaque on the outside wall to mark the date. It quickly became one of the linchpins of Canberra's so-called "chopstick democracy", that stretch of Kingston where politicians like to meet and hash out their dastardly plans, most often over a succulent Chinese (or Thai, or Italian) meal or two.
Former prime ministers Julia Gillard, Tony Abbott and Kevin Rudd were all fans, as were Kim Beazley, Joe Hockey and numerous other senior figures throughout the years.
The original Portia Yeung hung up her apron back in 2011 and sold the restaurant, for a new life as a missionary. But the transition was seamless, the name endured and so did the venue, with its reassuringly long and varied menu of Chinese favourites, like stuffed eggplant, mapo tofu and the famous crispy duck pancakes.
The sign, the decor and the steaming plates of dumplings have stayed constant over the years, which is why a locked door and a cleared out room behind the shuttered blinds feels so sad - and guilt-inducing. In a blink-and-you'll-miss-them landscape of fine dining, hip eateries and concept food spaces, Portia's was supposed to be there forever.
It was, in fact, the epitome of what many of us, secretly or not, truly want from a restaurant, which is calm, efficient service, a reasonably priced menu and bountiful food that comes out fast. No need for crisp tablecloths, waiters pulling out our chairs or curated wine lists.
And despite the political history that's been made around the Lazy Susans of the inner south, these places aren't part of the "scene", and the owners and staff are likely to be discreet, to the point of actual indifference. There's food to be cooked at top speed over high heat, my friends, no matter who you say you are or what kind of political shenanigans you might be cooking up.
And for the rest of us hoi polloi, it's all about the food - cheap, plentiful, served without comment. You sit, you eat, and you pay.
Think about it: there are places like this throughout the city, from small suburban shopping strips to Canberra's hippest streets. Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai, Indian, not to mention Italian, Persian or Mediterranean - our silly One Nation wannabes would do well to stop and remember where they last ate a post-sitting-week meal, shouted the office, hashed out a plan, or found something every family could plausibly like somewhere in the menu. What would our culinary scene be like without generations of migrants making new homes on our shores?
And drilling right down, cheap Asian food is part of our heritage, our national identity and - with apologies to our flourishing high-end dining scene - it's what hits the spot most often.
Such restaurants - I can literally name 20 off the top of my head - tend to be the city's stayers, enduring through the seasons, and outlasting the fancy new venues with lush fitouts and $80 mains.
Don't get me wrong, we love those too.
But when you need a night out with the extended family, where better than a Portia's-style feed? The kids can have fried rice and crispy chicken, we can all gorge on spring rolls while we wait for mains, and then say "ooooohhhhh" when the server brings out something sizzling on a hotplate, shifting everything else out of the way to make room.
You get your veggie intake from the Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce and stir-fried tofu, feel virtuous when you order a whole fish stuffed with lemongrass and chilli, and just really go all out with the sizzling lamb.
There's a reason why Happy's - the Civic mainstay - has endured for more than 60 years. Why Ginseng - originally in Manuka, now at the Hellenic Club, is always chockers, whether it be a weeknight celebration or a Sunday yum cha. And why a couple of generations of Canberrans tasted their first laksa at the Dickson Asian noodle house.
The list is massive - let's celebrate it, and all the places on it, while we farewell Portia's Place.
