Come on and save me.

In a way it was appropriate that we were eating at a restaurant that used to house fire trucks and the like and where people who saved lives on a regular basis used to reside. I was feeling a little like I needed saving. My bank had just been seized by the federales and I was (and still am) so over my head in projects that I have volunteered for that I was practically hyperventilating as regularly as I drink Diet Coke. (That's a lot.)

Me and a few of my friends met up at Firehouse, a newish upscale pizza/Italian restaurant in NE Portland to eat dinner, take a break from work and discuss the downturn of the economy. Hmmm. It smelled good - Brick Oven fired pizza. That was what I wanted.

But my pizza plans went out the window as I stared at the menu. I asked the waitress what her favorite appetizer was. Before I even finished my question, she said the beet greens bruschetta was her favorite, hands down. Beet greens on top of tangy goat cheese on a big hunk of toasted bread. Yeah. It was not only delicious, it was memorable like a surprise visit from a friend that I haven't seen in a really really long time. I must figure out how they make it. I've been thinking about it ever since then.

The roasted chicken was delicious as well - very flavorful and crispy. My friend let me have a bit of her pizza with fennel sausage - house made fennel sausage. Sweet and licorice-y and salty. Only a few pieces atop a thin crust with tomato sauce and mozzarella. A bite of happiness, to be sure.

Oh yes. I almost forgot. I had dessert. Apple and fig crisp with buttermilk sorbet. Not too sweet, tangy, cold sorbet over fresh, sweet, crisp apples, figs and buttery topping. Lovely fall crunch.

I was so tired when we were done eating. Tired enough to go home and go to bed. Where I slept so well, without the interruptions of bad dreams or stress.

The antique firemen on the wall at Firehouse are still useful - they saved me from my own thoughts and a likely night of nachos.