PORTLAND, Ore. » The first episode of "Portlandia," a new television show that pokes fun at this Northwest confection’s urban preciousness, includes a scene in which a couple at a restaurant interrogates a waitress about the quality of the life lived by a chicken they hope to order.

The couple soon learns that the bird was raised locally on sheep’s milk, soy and hazelnuts, and that it had a name, Colin.

"He looks like a happy little guy who runs around," says the character played by Fred Armisen, a Saturday Night Live star and a creator of "Portlandia," when he is shown a photograph of a pre-plucked version of the bird. "A lot of friends?"

It is a funny moment, a sendup of this city’s obsession with provenance. Yet the fact that it is a spoof might not always be clear.

"This is Sir Francis Bacon," said Jamie Dunn, the owner of the Gilt Club, the restaurant in Portland’s Old Town neighborhood where the scene was filmed in September. "The pork head mortadella came right out of this skull."

Dunn was holding the skull of a locally raised pig that had been slaughtered and dispersed into various dishes on that day’s menu, including pork and octopus stew. He said 80 percent of the restaurant’s food came from within 150 miles and 99 percent came from within 300 miles. Some of the hard liquor is distilled blocks away.

"We can ride our fixed-gear bikes to pick up a bottle," he said.

Then he added, "We do have a sense of humor here."

Portland will need one.

For years, many residents here have reacted with practiced apathy and amusement toward the national fascination with Portland. Outsiders and media critics have glowed over everything from its restaurants to its ambitious transit system of streetcars and light rail. Yet with "Portlandia," the flattery has given way to mockery, however gently executed, of this liberal city’s deliberate differentness.

"When it makes fun of the aggressive bicyclists and things like that, well, that’s stuff I complain about, too," said Amber Rowland, 27. "But then I’m part of what it’s making fun of as well. There’s a kernel of truth in it, and it’s OK to roll with it."

Rowland is a co-director of In Other Words, a nonprofit feminist book store and community center that is the setting for a scene in the first episode. Yet while the humor of the scene is rooted in the rude righteousness of the store clerks, Rowland and her colleagues like to laugh, and they are in on the joke. Of course, they still measure the show by a Portland standard, its localness.

Armisen is not from Portland, but his co-star Carrie Brownstein was a leader of a popular band that was based for a while in Portland, Sleater-Kinney. (Rowland enjoyed noting that it was a "seminal female rock band.")

"She’s going to be careful in the way she represents us because, inherently, she’s part of the community," said Julie Park-Williams, a board member of In Other Words. "She comes from a place of trust."

In a popular line from the show, which is on IFC, Armisen’s character describes Portland as a place "where young people go to retire." Sure enough, economists have shown that the city in recent years has drawn a disproportionate amount of young people, and that many of them end up being underemployed.

"I love this show because this is how real born Portlanders look at all of you that moved here since 1998," one person wrote in a comments forum on The Oregonian website.

The show has limits as social science. While many parts of Portland feel like one big group hug, the city is a complicated place, struggling with government budget cuts, manufacturing losses and the housing downturn even as demand for office space downtown has risen. The Gilt Club restaurant is just a few blocks from a Salvation Army shelter.

In November, the city was shaken when a teenager born in Somalia and raised in Portland was charged with trying to detonate a bomb at a Christmas tree-lighting ceremony. On the day "Portlandia" made its debut, lawyers were in federal court here arguing that a controversial local Muslim cleric, among others, had been unjustly placed on a federal no-fly list.

"Portlandia," some say, is hardly Portland.

"I think it’s just too narrow of a population that they’re making fun of," said Allison Jones, 23, who takes photographs of food for Eater PDX, a Portland restaurant blog. "And I think I can say that because I’m part of that subset."

Yet people are clearly interested. Late Friday night, a long line wrapped around the Mission Theater. People waiting hoped a space would open up inside, where the first episode of "Portlandia" was about to be shown to a packed house. Some people said they did not own televisions – or that they did not get IFC.

"It’s got to be a little elitist, you know," said Tony Robinson, working as the doorman. "That’s part of the Portland thing, too."