Lizzy Dishes Portland

Hey! Where've you been?

2010-03-22T00:20:00.000-07:00

Just a reminder to update your bookmarks and subscriptions with my new website: www.elizabethfuss.com. Lots of pretty pics over there. Along with some other stuff. Come on over!

ElizabethFuss.com

2010-03-09T17:28:00.000-08:00

Hey folks. I'm back. Sort of. I've moved over to Wordpress at www.elizabethfuss.com. Please come check it out. You can see my blog, plus recipes, plus links to my other writing and even my resume. Exciting, right?

Let me know what you think, k?

Signing off for now...

2010-02-16T13:51:00.000-08:00

Hey guys. I'm taking a break from blogging for a while. If something comes up that I can't resist, I might post something. But I'm in the midst of a huge creative block and need to remove some of the pressure, so no blogging for me until I have something worthwhile to say.

In the meantime, if you need to reach me, you can email me at elizabethfuss@msn.com.

See you in a bit!

Lizzy

The Melting Season

2010-02-08T23:07:00.000-08:00

When I finished reading Jami Attenberg's The Melting Season, I felt it in my stomach. And my throat.

With a suitcase full of money and a soul full of secrets, Catherine drives across the country in search of answers, closure and a new life. The story weaves its way through the past and the present with intricacy and depth. The characters are rich like good chocolate cake, with complex elements and beautifully human characteristics.

It's a novel about sexual dysfunction, the evolution of a life and how the pieces all fall into place. It's heartbreaking. And beautiful. What I love about The Melting Season, is that it is a portrait of a whole person, broken parts, damaged soul, loving heart, all of it, told in lyrical thoughts and narrative, at times like poetry, at times like the simple words in my head, unembellished and honest.

It's very intimate and I wanted to cry for Catherine and hug her and fight for her. So yes, when it was over, and I finished reading this fine book, I felt it. And I might have cried. A little. Or maybe a little more than a little.

You can see the book trailer here. Buy it, check it out from the library, read it, love it.

With the new blog rules from some government agency, I guess I have to tell you that I received my copy of The Melting Season from the publisher before its release. But I was a fan of Jami Attenberg's way before that when I read her essay in Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant and her book The Kept Man. And I wouldn't write about it if I didn't love it. And I did. Love it, I mean.

Lamb with Parsnip Puree and Lemon Herb Cream Sauce

2010-02-02T20:50:00.000-08:00

Here is the latest project with my sister Chelsea on her blog, Frolic. This recipe is lovely, wintery food with all the comfort and sauciness that food in cold weather requires.

A Sunday Morning Hash-Up

2010-01-24T11:47:00.000-08:00

Hash is one of my favorite things, because you can pick and choose whatever comfort foods you love and have them all on your fork at once. I love this recipe because the chorizo has enough flavor for the whole dish. No additional spices needed. And the cilantro hollandaise adds a nice cooling, creamy texture and when mixed with the yolk of a poached egg, it's divine. Here's what I made:

Sunday Hash

1 lb. spicy chorizo

1 lb fingerling potatoes

1 pint grape tomatoes

1 leek, washed and chopped

2 T. olive oil

1/2 cup vegetable stock

Kosher salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

6 eggs

white vinegar

kosher salt

Cilantro Hollandaise

6 egg yolks

3 T. heavy cream

3 T. chopped cilantro

1 tsp. lime juice

1 c. butter

Cook potatoes in boiling water until tender, about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, brown the chorizo with the leeks and add the tomatoes. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally until the tomatoes burst. When the potatoes are done, drain and slice in half. Stir the potatoes into the chorizo mixture. Add olive oil and cook until potatoes are slightly browned.

Add the vegetable stock, scraping the brown bits off the bottom of the pan. Cook over medium heat until the liquid is gone, about 5 minutes. Add kosher salt and pepper to taste, though you won't need much, if any, as the chorizo is fairly salty and seasoned well.

In a blender, add the egg yolks and the cream for the hollandaise. Blend on high until frothy and creamy. Add the cilantro and the lime juice. On the stove, in a small pan, melt the butter until bubbling, but not brown. Turn the blender on and slowly add the melted butter. Blend for about two minutes. Sauce will be thickened slightly. Set aside.

In a skillet, add about two inches of water and bring to a simmer. Add a sprinkle of white vinegar and a pinch of salt. Add eggs one at a time (working in batches if necessary), and cover. Cook for about 3-4 minutes, until the whites are set.

To serve, put poached egg on top of hash and cover with hollandaise.

Don Draper and the Beauty of Being Human

2010-01-19T20:06:00.000-08:00

It was so easy when I was young to decipher bad from good. Adulterers are bad. Christians are good. Thieves are bad. Mothers are good. So easy. Then when I was in middle school, I met my grandfather - a feisty old man who diligently smoked, told us unbelievable stories from his Adventures in Life, and had more women than we could comprehend.

He would call us drunk on Sunday nights while we watched The Wonderful World of Disney. "Hello, Miss America!" he would slur, as my sisters and I giggled. He was a philanderer, a storyteller, an alcoholic, a generous man with a big heart, a skilled poker player, a champion boxer. I told my best friend about him once and she told me it was "sad" that I had a grandfather like that. Was it? I remember thinking that I shouldn't love him so much because of his faults, but I couldn't help it. I didn't think it was sad. I thought it was interesting and a little exciting.

My mother felt differently about him, and rightly so, as his version of fatherhood left her and the rest of the family alone and distant, fighting for normalcy in their lives in the 1950s. She loved him, though, and kept him in our lives once we became acquainted with him. He was a good man. With lots of flaws. Some of them hurtful. Some of them endearing. All of them human.

Don Draper, the central figure in AMC's Mad Men, is such a man. Easy to hate in the beginning, because of his constant sexual escapades and abandonment of his family. Then easy to love, as his character deepens, becomes enriched with secrets, history, pain and compassion. The traits weave together into one of the most complex characters I've seen on television. Played by Jon Hamm with a smoldering control of emotions, Don Draper is a hero and a villain in one. Just like my grandfather.

Peggy, Don Draper's secretary-turned-copywriter, similarly makes morally questionable decisions, making me cringe at times, cry at others. Her character, both pathetic and fierce, is stoic, showing almost no emotion, apparently outsourcing the task of feeling to the audience on her behalf. But there is something fighting within Peggy's character to get out - and while I was trying to figure out what that was, I became addicted to Mad Men.

Or more accurately, I became addicted to the complexity of the characters. I could go down the list of all the characters, all shown in a very human light, and weigh their good and bad qualities to determine if they are good guys or bad guys. But why? With few exceptions, human beings are not exclusively good or bad. With no exception, human beings are flawed. Most people are doing the best they can with what they have to work with. Very few television shows embrace humanity with such richness.

This show - Mad Men - is a beautiful show, no doubt you've heard. Beautiful people, beautiful sets, beautiful design. But the depth of the characters, the constant tug of war between good and evil within each person's soul, that is the most beautiful part of this show.

Mac and Cheese, please.

2010-01-07T15:44:00.000-08:00

Today I made this Walnut Crusted Stilton Mac and Cheese with Caramelized Onions and Chelsea photographed it for her blog. It's my original recipe and it's mighty tasty, if I do say so myself. Recipe and more photos here.

My version of a Spanish Tortilla.

2010-01-05T22:43:00.000-08:00

Sometimes recipes simmer in my head all night, like a stew in a crock-pot. When I wake up in the morning, somehow all the kinks have been worked out and the recipe is perfect and ready to be tested. This morning, I woke up and immediately went to the kitchen to create that which had been simmering through the night. It was a delightful breakfast.

Spanish Tortilla with Leeks and Tomato Salad

2 medium sized russet potatoes, thinly sliced
1 leek, thoroughly washed and thinly sliced
3 T. olive oil
8 eggs
3/4 c. half and half
1/2 c. cheddar cheese, grated
1/4 c. romano cheese, grated
Kosher salt
fresh ground pepper

1 c. grape tomatoes, halved
1/2 c. kalamata olives, chopped
1 shallot, diced
1 clove of garlic, minced
1 leaf of fresh basil, torn into small pieces
1 T. olive oil
1 T. balsalmic vinegar
Kosher salt
fresh ground pepper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a cast iron skillet, saute leeks in 1 T. olive oil and seasoned with salt and pepper. Cook until lightly golden brown. Remove from skillet and set aside. Heat remaining 2 T. olive oil in skillet until just smoking.

Arrange potato slices slightly overlapping, covering the bottom of the skillet, making multiple layers, if necessary, and seasoning with salt and pepper on each layer. Sprinkle sauteed leeks evenly over the potatoes. Cook over medium heat, so that the potatoes can get crispy, about 5 minutes. Do not stir.

In the meantime, in a mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, half and half, and cheese and season with salt and pepper. Pour mixture into the skillet over the potatoes. Remove from the heat and place in pre-heated oven.

Bake for 25 minutes until the top is golden brown and firm to the touch. Let cool for 5 minutes.

While it is cooling, make the tomato salad. In a bowl, toss together all ingredients of the tomato salad. Mix well.

Run a knife around the edge of the skillet to prevent sticking and flip the skillet upside down to turn out the tortilla. Cut into slices and top with the tomato salad.

Yield: 8 servings

Photos by Chelsea Fuss.

Where I don't remember anything.

2010-01-03T15:05:00.000-08:00

"Remember when we used to come here when we were kids?" No. "Really? You don't remember sitting on the waterfront?" No. Not even a little bit. My sister and I were eating lunch in Poulsbo, Washington on the picturesque waterfront. I think I blocked out all my memories from middle school and high school in Olympia and any weekend day trips we may have taken as a family. She insisted that we used to go to Poulsbo all the time. I seriously have no recollection of any of it.

It's a nice little town with independent bookstores, bakeries and little restaurants. Just the type of town my parents would have taken us to and just the type of town that I would have sneered at and pouted while we ate at a quaint little bakery. I was a miserable kind of a teen, with lots of acidic attitude and smoldering rebellion that never quite erupted.

Twenty years has whipped me into relative normalcy and I now appreciate quaint towns as I am supposed to. And Poulsbo is very nice.

We ate lunch at JJ's Fish House on the waterfront while my sister recounted her memories of Poulsbo. I ordered the cod fish and chips. She ordered the halibut.

Now I have to say that I still don't get fish and chips. Is the fish supposed to have flavor? Or is it all about the sauces? Because the two big hunks of fried fish were bland. Very, very bland. The tartar sauce was full of tarragon and definitely helped the fish. But if it's all about the sauce, what do I need the fish for? The fish was covered in a tempura batter and had literally no seasoning in it and left a pool of oil on my plate, which I wasn't thrilled about. I love intense flavor though, and maybe the bland fish is supposed to be a canvas for the sauce, in which case it succeeded in being just that.

The poppyseed coleslaw was very flavorful and my favorite part of the meal. This is now my new memory of Poulsbo. A pretty waterfront, and a crunchy, sweet poppyseed coleslaw. The rest of it will go the way of my adolescence. And that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Unemployment makes for a busy kitchen

2009-12-29T10:55:00.000-08:00

So apparently having a little time on my hands has created a monster in the kitchen. This is my latest creation. Recipe is over here.

Pandoro French Toast with Lemon Rosemary Butter and Blood Orange Butter

2009-12-22T13:18:00.001-08:00

Another collaboration with Chelsea over at {frolic!}. My recipes, her photos. You can see more photos and the recipe here.

Sleepless. Because I want to go to Seattle.

2009-12-17T21:28:00.000-08:00

I've felt something calling me to Seattle lately. Oh who am I kidding. The food is calling me. The food. And maybe the artsy literary types.

The New Guard Dinners - art, music and food by up and coming artists.

Delancey - a new pizza restaurant owned by Molly Wizenberg and her husband.

Spring Hill - I've heard an awful lot about this place on Twitter lately.

Union Restaurant - Because of what Kari wrote.

Kim Ricketts Book Events - Because how awesome is this. Cooks and Books? Words and Wine? Um. Yes.

Photo from TripAdvisor.com

Spaghetti with Mascarpone Sage Meatballs: Comfort Food for {frolic!}

2009-12-17T15:59:00.000-08:00

My sister Chelsea (also known as {frolic!}) and I are collaborating on a new feature for her blog about comfort foods. I create the recipes and the food and she's the photographer. Our first collaboration is Spaghetti with Mascarpone and Sage Meatballs. So good! Check out the recipe on {frolic!}.

I knew you all along, John Roderick

2009-12-15T22:00:00.000-08:00

Mississippi Studios is still an intimate venue, even after the big remodel. I was a big fan of the airstream trailer and the white canvas outside where they used to beam flickering black and white movies in the summer. But what I loved most about the small little venue was the cozy red interior that made it feel like you were in North Portland's living room. The little pillows on the chairs and the long red curtains that served as the backdrop to so many musicians over the years. The pillows and the curtains are gone, but it's still cozy and red, albeit a little more spacious.

On a Sunday night not long ago, I went to Mississippi Studios for dinner and talking and music and inspiration. Michael Hebb made dinner for 30 and John Roderick and Kathleen Edwards were there, in conversation and song, celebrating Roderick's newly published book of tweets, Electric Aphorisms.

It was a lovely evening. I found myself pulled into the conversation on stage between Publication Studio's Matthew Stadler, the book's publisher, and Roderick and Edwards. They talked and sang about truth and lies and fans and Twitter and crying and death and murder while I ate winter salad, beef stew with creme fraiche and dinner rolls. The red walls aided the stew in keeping me warm and feeling homey.

Roderick said he had written a song about a public tragedy, one that was displayed over and over on TV. The space shuttle disaster. He talked about how humbled he was when he heard that people at NASA had listened to the song. Then, he started playing the song.

I hadn't heard The Long Winters prior to the week of the dinner - I had heard of them, but never listened to their music. I did no research before I went - I like to discover in person. But the amazing thing was, as he started playing the song, The Commander Thinks Aloud, I recognized it. In fact, it was a song that I loved and had listened to hundreds of times for years on a random CD that I had because it felt emotional and hearty to me, but I never knew who sang it or what it was about. It felt intense and powerful in a sing-your-guts-out kind of way. I love those kind of songs. And when he started playing it, I got all choked up because now it all made sense. And I loved it even more.

I began feeling amorous towards everyone on stage, towards the people around me, as I experienced the moment with them. Of course, they had no idea and I swallowed my emotional reaction. I left in a hurry when it was over, as there was going to be mingling and heaven knows I'm awful at mingling and I didn't want to ruin the spirit of my moment.

It was awesome. And I still love my moment.

A Words Week

2009-12-13T10:04:00.000-08:00

This week is a good week to appreciate words. Just because. Here are a couple of events that will help you appreciate your favorite words:

Friday, December 18th
Write Around Portland Community Reading & Anthology Release
6:30 - 8:30pm
First United Methodist Church, Collins Hall
1838 SW Jefferson St.

The new anthology is called More Than a Book, with a special introduction by Dave Eggers, who was the very reason I got involved with Write Around Portland to begin with. It's a free event, and like I have said many times before, these events are inspiring and life changing. I hope you can make it. All of you. Yes, I'm looking at you.

Saturday, December 19th
Live Wire!
8:00pm
Aladdin Theater
Tickets

An always entertaining, funny and inspiring evening, Live Wire! is a variety show taped live once a month at the Aladdin Theater for broadcast on OPB. Poets, singers, storytellers and other fascinating people are interviewed by the fabulous and funny Courtenay Hameister. Music and good words. This is seriously the best use of $20 on a Saturday night. And come prepared to write a Haiku.

A Festive Dessert

2009-12-10T21:09:00.000-08:00

Today I tried an experiment in fruit crisp. We had a ton of cranberries in the fridge, so I decided go crazy with cranberries. And pistachios. The Five Spice Chinese spice gives it a nice bite that complements the sweetness of the crisp. And the vanilla adds a mellowness to the cranberries. It was quite tasty.

Cranberry Crisp with Pistachios

7 1/2 cups cranberries
3 Granny Smith apples, peeled and chopped
1/2 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
2 tsp Five Spice Chinese spice
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp salt

1/4 cup butter
1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup oatmeal

1/2 cup pistachio nutmeats

1. Add cranberries to the food processor and pulse several times until cranberries are roughly chopped.

2. Melt 1/2 cup butter in a large pot over low heat. Add 1 cup brown sugar and stir over medium heat until combined. Add cranberries and apples, spices, vanilla and salt.

3. Cook over medium heat for 5 minutes. Then add to an 8 1/2 by 11 pan.

4. In the food processor, add 1/4 cup butter, 1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/2 cup oatmeal and 1/2 cup pistachio nutmeats. Pulse until ingredients are combined and clumping together slightly. Crumble on top of the cranberry mixture.

5. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Serve warm with whipped cream.

An Experiment in Fish and Chips

2009-12-07T00:18:00.000-08:00

We feed my British grandmother every Sunday. She eats a lot for a 91 year old and if there's one thing I like about her it's that she can appreciate the taste of well-made food. She said a couple of weeks ago that she'd been craving fish and chips like she had when she was a child. I sort of took it as a challenge. Never mind that I have pretty much no experience cooking fish (I'm scared of it) and pretty much no experience deep frying anything (a few burns thwarted my desire to have access to delicious fatty foods in my own home).

I started out by heading over to Rick's Wild Seafood food cart on SW 3rd and Ash downtown Portland. (I have to specify Portland since I live in the suburbs and West Linn is my frame of reference now. *sob*) Plus, they sell frozen cod for $3.40/lb, so I decided to pick some up while I was testing their professional fish and chips.

The poor girl at the cart was bundled up - it was freezing yesterday! I ordered my fish and chips and the girl re-fried the chips (which is what the British do. I checked online. So it must be accurate!) and threw the fish in the deep fryer. A few minutes later, I was warming my hands on the hot fries and fish, and filling my belly rather quickly. It happened to be my breakfast and lunch that day. The fish was crunchy and I could see the herbs in the crust. A squeeze of lemon was just what it needed. It was tame in flavor, which is the experience I have had with all the fish and chips I have ever had. Which is not many. Because as I said before, fish scare me. A bit.

Because my sense of what one pound of cod would amount to in fried fish is bizarrely off, I decided to play it safe and over do it by getting five pounds of cod to take home. FIVE. As it turns out, that is quite a lot of fish. Hello, freezer.

So anyway, this morning I started on my journey to make a real British fish and chips dinner. I started out by making the tartar sauce. Quite easy, actually. Sweet pickles, capers, flat leaf parsley, two teaspoons of spicy mustard, a dash of Worcestershire sauce and a cup of mayo in the food processor. Mine turned out a little green due to perhaps an over abundance of parsley, but I liked it that way.

I made coleslaw with shredded cabbage and one shredded sweet onion and a vinegar-based dressing and let it marinate. Chopped up the Russet potatoes into thick, bite-sized pieces, tossed them with olive oil and salt and threw them in the oven to bake. I wasn't going to attempt frying everything. Especially because my parents don't generally eat fried food, and I didn't want to kill them off.

Keeping that in mind, I decided to make some baked fish as well as the traditional beer-batter fish. You know. Gotta please everyone.

The beer batter was very simple. Self-rising flour + a little salt & pepper + seafood seasoning + one bottle of beer (I used a brown English ale); whisked together until thickened and smooth.

For the baked fish, I dredged it in flour + seasoning, then egg bath, then homemade breadcrumbs with herbs. For both kinds of fish, I seasoned the fish first with salt and pepper and seafood seasoning. I am sort of a flavor fiend, so I seasoned probably way more than is traditional. But I liked it. A lot.

The fish baked for about 20 minutes at 350 and the fish fried in 3 inches of hot canola oil for about 2-3 minutes, depending on the size of the piece of fish. I was by no means consistent in the sizing, so we had small pieces and large pieces. The fried fish was moist and flaky and perfectly cooked. The seasoning came through in the crust quite well. The baked fish was drier and maybe a bit overcooked, but still tasted good.

To round out the British meal, I heated up some peas, then drained them and smashed them with yogurt and salt and pepper.

It was a hit. My grandmother loved it and said it was just like her mother used to make. I wonder if my great-grandmother was a flavor fiend, too.

*Photos of my fish and chips dinner by the lovely Chelsea Fuss.

Wherein I Tell You My Diabolical Plan

2009-12-04T23:42:00.000-08:00

So I've been busy lately. Just kidding. I haven't. I've been taking a big fat break from life since Thanksgiving. And it's been nice. Lots of naps and working out and cooking and taking deep breaths. And. I've formulated a plan for my jobless life. And I'm really excited about it.

I'm going to be partnering with my dad in his accounting practice to do payroll, bookkeeping and HR consulting for small businesses, an area that I've been working in for the past 10 years. I'm excited to be bringing my expertise and knowledge to his business.

I'm also going to be spending a great deal of time writing. Which I am thrilled about. I'll still be blogging, but I'm aiming at something bigger. And also maybe tackling a little freelance writing.

Whatever happens, I'll keep you posted. Because I feel like you are all my friends. I've met several of you recently and I just have to say how wonderful it is to see you in person and exchange pleasantries in real life. Thanks for reading.

**P.S. If you need any payroll, bookkeeping, HR consulting services, or someone to write crap for you, please drop me a line at elizabethfuss (at) msn (dot) com.

Word to the Wise(men)

2009-11-27T23:19:00.000-08:00

On December 2nd, Back Fence PDX, Mortified and True Stories join forces for a stellar storytelling event. You should go because: 1. It will probably be funny, 2. Support storytelling in Portland, 3. I am going. I went to a Back Fence PDX event a couple of weeks ago, I met a bunch of people and laughed my ass off. Well, not totally. I still need to exercise and not eat crap. But it was fun anyway. So check it out. For tickets, go here. For more information, go here.

Where an amateur drinker goes to a cider pairing dinner

2009-11-18T10:00:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, I got an invitation to a dinner at Davis Street Tavern, showcasing Crispin Cider. It sounded good. And I thought, this will be a good opportunity to meet people and not say stupid things. And network. Since you are going to be unemployed like any minute. Also, to eat delicious food. Which is actually the highest priority. I mean, who cares if I ever work again, as long as I get to eat fabulous food. Right? I see you nodding your head and rubbing your belly. Of course right.

So when I got there, they were passing out cocktails - the Crispin Mule: vodka, lime, ginger and light hard apple cider. I held it in my hand, nervous to drink because 1. remember how I am a lightweight and not an expert drinker, or even really a drinker at all? 2. I hadn't really eaten all day 3. what if I get tipsy before dinner and say stupid things, which would defeat one of my major goals for the evening. So I took baby sips and chatted with some lovely people and I largely avoided saying anything stupid.

When we finally sat down, they brought out a big, tall, overwhelming glass of Crispin Brut cider and a plate of Kumamoto Oysters with apple mignonette and trout roe. The cider was very delicious and went with the oysters (oh and I was an oyster virgin before this dinner. I like them!) and the mignonette quite well. I took about two sips of the cider and set it aside with my nearly full cocktail. Around this time my head started buzzing just a bit. (Stop laughing. I'm not kidding. It can happen THAT fast. When you are like me.)

Next course: Pan Roasted Quail with quinoa and hazelnut stuffing, chestnut puree, sauteed escarole and marionberry gastrique. Oh. And another big, tall glass of cider. This time, it was the Original cider. I had never had quail before, but it was quite lovely and packed full of flavor. The chestnut puree was very hearty - I think I want to try to make it sometime. It added a bit of heft to the dainty course. Incredible flavors all merged together in my mouth and the cider was a perfect complement. Again, I set aside my nearly full cider glass next to the two other drinks by my plate. I was looking in awe at the people around me who were drinking all of their drinks. How do they do it? Ah well. Next.

Grilled pork loin with grilled figs, butternut squash and marcona almond puree. This was the star of the dinner - the juciest, most flavorful pork loin I have ever had, popped with a spicy, red-pepper flake spiked dish of butternut squash and the intense mellowness (it seems a contradiction, I know. But it's not. Just go with it, okay?) of the almond puree. Oh. And another big tall glass of cider. Honey Crisp. This cider made the biggest impression on me because I could really taste the honey and it was very nice with the pork. Very. Two sips, set aside.

My plate was now surrounded by three full glasses of cider and a cocktail. I was starting to feel bad. But I didn't want to get drunk and sloppy and unable to walk or drive just so I wouldn't hurt someone's feelings. That would be super bad form, right? I was thrilled when the waitress offered to remove my embarrassment. "It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?" she said in an understanding voice, as she put the glasses on her tray.

At this point I was so full. So full. But dessert was next. I was enjoying listening to people around me and at some point, I started talking about Greece. But I was nervous, you know, talking to people, because that's scary and I think my voice got kind of loud and my face got red as I talked about how much I loved it. The girl next to me had traveled all over and she probably thought I was silly, getting all excited over Greece, because she talked about traveling through Europe as if it was a completely normal thing that everyone does and she clearly did not get four-year-old-giddy over it like I did, even though she was probably half my age. Okay, maybe not half. But something young. I wonder if I will ever be as nonchalant and sophisticated about traveling as she is. I'm going with NOT.

Oh and then, as I nibbled on the breathtaking soft ginger snaps with sage whipped cream, someone said something about my blog and I didn't quite hear it but I laughed anyway. Then I realized they might be waiting for a response, so I said, "I'm sorry, what did you say? I didn't quite hear you." She said: "I can't wait to read what you write about this dinner." Oh she was nice. I laughed as my face turned 40 shades of red and I filled my mouth with the cookie so I couldn't talk anymore. The drink they brought for dessert was like a hot buttered rum, but it was made with the Crispin Honey Crisp cider. One sip and I was done for. I could not eat or drink. One. More. Morsel.

A few people gave me their business cards. I had none. But I guess I should get some for my little blog, huh? Seeing as I'm going to be spending a lot more time with it in the coming months. So, I said thank you and good bye. What a delicious dinner. I will have to go back to Davis St. Tavern to taste their regular menu - the chef, who designed the dinner to go with the ciders, did an exceptional job.

**Disclaimer: Crispin Cider invited me to this dinner and paid for it. They did not tell me to write anything about it and I seriously doubt they expected me to write a big long blog post about how I'm not a good drinker. But thanks to them and Davis St. Tavern just the same.

One More Thing... Write Around Portland Documentary

2009-11-04T20:22:00.000-08:00

Hi again. I forgot one more thing:

For those of you who don't know me too well, Write Around Portland is a passion of mine. I've had to take a year off of volunteering and I have missed it dreadfully. I am so tickled that Director Brian Lindstrom has made a documentary about Write Around Portland that will be showing at the NW Film Center on November 10th at 7:30. Tickets are $8. I can't wait to see what I have personally experienced expressed on the screen.

Storytelling!

2009-11-04T20:14:00.000-08:00

I know I've said this before, but Portland has the best storytelling events. I just bought my tickets for Back Fence PDX and Mortified for November 19th and 20th. You should come! Because I only bought one ticket for each event and I'll need people to talk to and laugh with.

Let me know if you will be there!

The Virgin Traveler: It's Over

2009-11-04T00:58:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to figure out what I want to say in my final Virgin Traveler post. It's pretty simple really: I loved my trip. I loved traveling. I loved the food. I loved the people.

Now that I'm back to work, I day dream a little bit about swimming in the sea and sitting on the waterfront. I have no idea what's next for me. In the next two or three weeks, I will be unemployed and for the first time in my life, I don't have a plan for what's next. Maybe more traveling, maybe more writing, maybe another job.

My Grecian experience kind of knocked me off my feet and cleared my head. It was gloriously relaxing and beautiful. I'm hoping that my trip was clearing the way for a brilliant plan for my future. Time will tell.

Thanks for reading!

The Virgin Traveler: Our last night together, a tomato feast

2009-11-04T00:47:00.000-08:00

The night before Chelsea and Amber left for Athens, we scouted out a restaurant that one of Chelsea's blog friends had told her about. A signless little place off the beaten path in Pyrgos on Santorini. So delicious. All authentic, Greek, and mostly tomatoes. We sat there forever. Talking, eating, relishing in our last moments.

Fried Tomato Balls
Lamb in tomato sauceGrilled eggplant with shallots
Tomato and olive salad
Stuffed cherry tomatoes with fetaTomato salad with olives and feta

The Virgin Traveler: Where We Were Regulars

2009-11-03T23:01:00.000-08:00

It was the brightest light in the ghost town of Perissa on Santorini. The entire town was boarding up for the winter and Ntomatini was one of only three or four restaurants open on the waterfront. The bright green and white checkered restaurant was lit with bright lights and laced with vines and pots of flowers, easily the most inviting eatery open.

The waitress walked over to us, her light-brown hair bouncing cheerily in a pony-tail. She looked American. And she was. From Albany, Oregon. She met her husband, Kostas, a native of Santorini, when he was working as a chef in Chicago and she was a waitress, trying to earn extra money after a stint at Greenpeace. One thing led to another and they got married, had two adorable children, and moved to Santorini to open their own restaurant.

I wanted to know more. So a few days later, I sat down with Lisa the waitress and co-owner and over a glass of wine, she told me about how they had tried to open a restaurant in Chicago for five years, and it just hadn't worked out. She told me about meeting with a banker who responded to her presentation with a smirk and a snide response. She told me that she believed that everything happens for a reason and that she let it go.

As soon as Lisa and Kostas let it go, things fell into place for them to come to Santorini. Their friend was closing a restaurant, Kostas' family was there, it all seemed right. Lisa talked easily about their story - one she has probably told to every American who walks in their restaurant. Everyone wants to meet a guy and move to Greece - it's a fairy tale. Right?

It's just life, Lisa says. It's just the way things happen. It's not so glamorous, working 18 hours a day in the high season, managing your laundry based on the weather (no dryers), making family dinners, sending the kids to school. It's just life. Their life just happens to be in Greece.

The eleven or twelve year old daughter helps in the restaurant often, with a bright smile, wide eyes and speaking perfect Greek and English. The little boy laughs with a contagious laugh, playing with the stray dogs that stop by for a bite. Seriously adorable.

And the food. That's really what got me interested in Lisa and Kostas. Because the food was among the best we had in Greece. Family recipes. Tomato rissoles (fritters), moussaka, rooster in red wine (my favorite). The food was rich, flavorful, intense, perfectly seasoned.

I ate there four or five times in a week. It was simply tremendous. Each dish. Tremendous.

The Virgin Traveler: Mama Greece

2009-10-26T18:49:00.000-07:00

All we needed was a little direction. Which way was this hotel? Our original plan for a hotel was not working out and we had wandered to a nearby cafe to use wifi and do a little research. We wanted to look at a hostel-type place that we thought was close. "Can you help us?" I asked Tito, the chef, who had just finished explaining to us about his snobby sister in the USA and how the little man (George Bush) had made the economy bad and how Obama was going to save the world. "Is this close to us?"

"You need rooms? You need place to stay?" Crap. "We give you place to stay for cheap and better."

"We just want to look at this place. Is it near us?"

"We give you room. I talk to owner. He give you room for good price." Tito disappeared and we tried to figure out the map.

The owner, with shoulder-length curly hair, pulled back into a ponytail, his off-white button down shirt hanging from his little round paunch over his blue jeans, approached us quickly. "You need room? You stay with Mama Greece. I call her already. She come over and show you the room. You stay like queens. Two rooms!" Mama Greece. How could we not meet Mama Greece. We relented to the bombardment.

She pulled up in a silver hatchback, a cigarette dangling from her mouth, her gray and blonde curly hair pinned back loosely with bobby pins. She motioned for us to come with her. "My place in the middle of paradise! You live like queens in my place!" We opened the door to her car, scarred by ripped out stereo speakers, giant holes gaping just below the inside door handle, and climbed in.

She sat in the driver's seat, her tank top cut low in the back, revealing pockmarks and a black bra that was half unhooked. She rattled on about paradise and living like queens as we drove less than a mile to her palace.

By middle of paradise, Mama Greece must have meant a travel agency and a rent-a-car place. She continued to tell us how we would be living like queens as she showed us the stained kitchen counter with dirty dishes on it in a Vanna-White style swish of her wrinkled arm, cigarette in her fingers.

We smiled politely and told her we'd get back to her after we negotiated out of our reservation at our current hotel. She drove us back to her son's restaurant in awkward silence and as we promised her we'd call her if it worked out, we mentally promised ourselves that we would avoid that part of town from then on. We finally found our new hotel that was less dumpy than our original one AND Mama Greece's place. Relief!

The Virgin Traveler: The Raki Riot

2009-10-16T05:10:00.000-07:00

[Raki is a traditional Cretan drink, made of grape skins left over after wine making. Smells and tastes like rubbing alcohol with a little cinnamon.]

Missed tweets/Facebook status updates during Final Cretan Adventure:

On the road to Theriso, on the way to Omalos, a picturesque Real Cretan Town, as noted by Lonely Planet.

Surrounded by orange trees!

Amazing cemetery shows up out of nowhere in the middle of orange tree grove!

My authentic, handmade leather sandals from Greece just broke. Am now walking around cemetery with flopping sandals.

Back in the Fiat and on to Theriso.

These roads are crazy. Dropoffs and rocks and pending avalanches. Seriously.

Crap! There's men in camouflage on the side of the road picking up guns as we drive by!

Thinking my broken sandals will make running from men with guns a little difficult.

Chelsea is certain that these men are militants. I prefer the term assassins.

Wild mountain goats in the road!

Lonely Planet, you better deliver a f***ing quaint little town since we almost died at the hands of militants, almost killed a bunch of mountain goats and nearly drove off the side of the mountain!

Theriso is cute kind of. We are eating cheese and pork at real Cretan tavern.
We are surrounded by Cretan men.

Back on the road to Omalos. Windy mountain roads again.

We’ve almost turned back three times because of the darkness and the crazy roads, but now we have to see what this town is about.

Goats in the road again! This time a lot. A lot a lot.

We made it! Omalos is at the mouth of the Samaria Gorge, which I was going to hike but didn’t have the right shoes for it. No really, it was the shoes.

Stopped at only open restaurant in Omalos, in a hotel. Everyone is staring at us.

Beans for dinner!

Waiter brought raki glasses for all of us and one for him. He is wanting to drink with us. Uh oh.

We sipped, but waiter is refusing to take no for an answer.

Fine. ACH. My throat is on fire. I can’t talk. The raki is STRONG. Waiter is laughing and pouring more raki.

Chelsea just declared that she is Mormon and Catholic and very religious in an effort to convince waiter that she can't drink.

I decline on the basis of being a wimp. Waiter points to me, “Wimpy.” Points to Jen, “Big Lush!” and pours her more raki.

Burping up raki is painful. Also, Jen is on her 5th or 6th shot of raki. Waiter is laughing at us. He is going to get us more water.

We poured the rest of the raki in the water glasses in an effort to trick him!

He saw us.

The entire restaurant is staring at us. Waiter pours more raki for Jen. We don't know how much she has consumed.

Jen is drunk. Taking one for the team. Thank heavens for the token drinker! The rest of us escaped with minor throat burns.

Singing Mamma Mia soundtrack while driving down the mountain roads. Also. Jen doesn’t feel well, but she loves everyone.

Goats are all over the road. They are not moving! We have to open our windows and shoo them to get off the road.

Amber is a good driver. Jen still loves everyone. Also she loves Greece. And raki. And Greek waiters.

Back in our beds. Five am wake up time for early ferry to Santorini!

Some of these pictures are by Jen! Thank you Jen!

The Virgin Traveler: Last Day in Crete

2009-10-15T12:19:00.000-07:00

I woke up late. And immediately wanted to cry. Our last day in Crete. I had just begun to be completely in love with the island.

My last breakfast in Crete was my favorite thing I ate: fruit salad with ice cream. This time, it was banana ice cream with grapes, kiwi, pears, apples and bananas.

I am also going to miss the fresh juices I had every morning, like this banana orange juice.

After breakfast, I walked around for a bit, went back to savor our apartment for a few more hours. I walked over to a little cafe and had a Greek salad like this one:

And had a lovely conversation with an older American gentleman, who told me that I would love Santorini, that Mykonos was the homosexual capital of the world for rich people, that he loved walking where Paul from the Bible walked, that he had been to Europe 22 times, that it's never too late to start traveling and that he had no idea who puts things in the internet.

Then I went back to the apartment to meet up with my friends for our last road trip.

The Virgin Traveler: Shiny, happy people.

2009-10-11T15:29:00.000-07:00

She was a large woman. Maybe 260 or 270 pounds. Tattoos of flowers adorned her ankles and a red flowery bikini top held up her chest with industrial strength. Rolls of fat flopped here and there, over her blue bikini bottoms, which covered just what was necessary. Her long dangly earrings called attention to her short, reddish curly hair and her permanent, toothy smile. She was treading water in the clear crisp sea water while waiting for her boyfriend to climb in.

"It looks nice," I said to my sister standing beside me, not wanting to jump in the water quite yet. The woman was watching us. "It is quite nice!" she said, her Scottish accent like music interrupting our conversation, her smile never leaving her face.

Her boyfriend, a 40-ish Norwegian, plump, bald and grinning in his red speedo, climbed down the ladder on the side of the boat. He was nervous. He gingerly put one foot into the intertube attached to the boat, and then the other foot. "Love, you don't have to climb in it!" the woman yelled as they both started giggling. The Norwegian said something and laughed and paddled about three feet before the rope held him back. He floated back to the ladder and climbed up.

The woman put on her snorkel mask and dove down with her underwater camera. A few minutes later, she surfaced and came back aboard. "Look at my pictures!" she said as she approached us with unrestrained enthusiasm. "It's my new camera. He bought it for me just before we came on holiday."

"Your first time on Crete?" We nodded. "I came here last year for four weeks and stayed for ten months. Then I met him and now we live in Norway. We had a big party yesterday when I came back into town. It involved lots of kissing and hugging and singing and drinking." We laughed. She told us how it's not so hard to learn Norwegian. She told all of her friends in Norway to only speak Norwegian and not English.

At the next stop on our tour boat, they snorkeled again, this time, with him wearing a life jacket. She took close up pictures of him underwater and then showed me, while he was standing there, looking over her shoulders, giggling and both of them saying things about the fishies they saw. They got dressed, and continued smiling while enjoying the sun and some beer.

The Virgin Traveler: The Real Creta

2009-10-09T02:54:00.001-07:00

It's easier to stay inside your comfort zone. To not travel outside your neighborhood, to only talk to people you know. It's safer. Even when traveling, it's easier to stay within the space that you are familiar with, to take the most traveled way. Like taking the once-a-day bus to the famous beach with all of the other 99,000 tourists. That would be easy.

But to take the road less traveled (I know, overused phrase) is the most exciting. For the past two days, me and my friends, in our bright green Fiat, drove through the Cretan mountains to the Libyan Sea and to the best beaches I have ever been to in my life. Not that I have been to that many, but I think anyone would agree that these beaches are pristine, beautiful and addictive.

It's surreal - little old Greek ladies in black, sitting by the side of the mountain road selling olive oil and honey from their farms. I kept wanting to take a picture, but is that weird? Hello, you seem like a postcard, mind if I take your picture? Luckily, the wild goats didn't mind. There are so many of them, just sauntering across the mountain roads like it's no big deal. A shepherd standing on the side of the road with his staff, watching the sheep on the other side as they grazed. It's like the movies. And it's the Real Creta.

The roads are so narrow that Amber, our fearless driver, had to honk whenever we rounded a bend as we drove through the tiny mountain villages. And even on the narrowest of roads, the motorcycles zoomed around our Fiat as if we were standing still.

And when we got to the first beach, Elafonisi. Oh. Over the mountains this clear blue vastness appeared and we all stared. It was well-kept, with clean bathrooms and a litter-free beach. People old and young, tan and white, plump and thin, everyone in bikinis. Everyone free, not wearing shorts to cover bits of cellulite, not ashamed of their imperfect bodies. Frolicking in the pink sand and splashing in the clear turquoise water. I, in my granny-like bathing suit, joined them. Social pressure be damned, I did not hide. And it was the most glorious, care-free feeling.

The water was warm and no squishiness was found at the bottom of the sea. Just saltwater and pink sand. There were a couple of refreshment stands nearby, but that is it. There are no hotels there and the nearest restaurant is a mile away. It is untouched by tourism. Well, besides the one tourist bus that comes every day at 11 and leaves at 4. But since it is the off-season, even that was not distracting.

The next day, we made our way through Sfakia (where we had lunch overlooking the water) and ended up at a beach called Paradisos.

There were skinny-dippers and few others. I spent over an hour in the water, paddling, swimming, splashing and then the most fun. I was laying on my stomach in the shallow part and huge waves would come and wash over me, sending me into fits of laughter, as it kind of tickled. Yes, I am three. But who cares. The nearest person was far away. And if I had wanted to strip naked and skinny dip, no one would have seen or cared. Besides my friends. And I didn't want to scar them for eternity.

I love the Real Creta. I wish I never had to leave.

The Virgin Traveler: Markets and Gyros

2009-10-06T23:03:00.000-07:00

Went to a huge market the other day in Chania. Olives, fish, rabbit, beef, veal, salt, vegetables, fruit, bakeries, nuts and lots and lots of cheese and herbs. I was in heaven, and really wished I had a gourmet kitchen in Crete.

I had a recommendation from a local guy that we could get the best gyros in the city at a fast food chain called Time Out. I know - weird, huh? I would never have gone in if someone hadn't told me that they were the best. So we stopped there for lunch. I had a gyro with veal sausage. They put french fries in the gyro, which was interesting, and a big glob of Greek yogurt, which was delicious! We all really enjoyed them and we'll probably go back again.

The Virgin Traveler: Take me to Creta.

2009-10-06T22:29:00.000-07:00

When we checked out of our hotel in Athens, the desk clerk asked us where we were going. The older man, probably around 60, with shoulder-length white hair, balding on top and little spectacle glasses, got a big smile on his face when we told him. "Ah," he said, "Take me to Creta!"

Yesterday, while swimming in the Libyan Sea at Elafonisi, I understood why everyone wants to come to Crete. The water is so clear blue that you can see all the way down - it's warm, there's no seaweed, sharp seashells or unknown squishiness when you are walking out in the water. Just pink sand and large masses of black rocks. I could have stayed in the water for hours. When I got out of the water, I had a thin crust of salt all over me, primed for baking in the sun.

I was entranced by the myriads of people at the beach, everyone speaking a different language. And everyone, no matter size or age, comfortable hanging out in their bathing suits, half naked, frolicking in the water. It was so beautiful.

On the way back from Elafonisi, we stopped at this breathtaking monastery that overlooks the sea. And then we continued winding through the mountain roads, lined with olive trees and orange trees and made our way back to Chania in our rented bright green Fiat.

The Virgin Traveler: Because it's all about the food.

2009-10-04T02:43:00.000-07:00

Greetings from the Old Port in Chania, Crete! I have been so busy the last few days. Mostly eating the incredible food here. A lot of lamb, feta, goat cheese, olives and yogurt. The thick, creamy, mild Greek yogurt that is so pristine and beautiful, topped with sticky honey or served with tender lamb for dinner.

The first night we were here, we ate at a restaurant on a sidestreet, away from the waterfront, which can be overcrowded with tourists and is like walking through the gauntlet, as the hosts of each restaurant stand out on the sidewalk and try to persuade you to eat their food. "Please, we have very good food." Or like one gentleman: "Please, don't be like the 65 year olds. Come, listen to what I have to say before you walk away, please. You can't just walk off like that." But we did, we walked away like the 65 year olds.

At the restaurant, while watching the musicians that looked like that Tony guy from that dancing with celebrities show, I ordered the fried lamb - I thought it would be an interesting take on fried chicken. But it was more like braised lamb - in olive oil, I think, served with french fries. It was good though, the lamb was incredibly flavorful and fell off the bone and the french fries only got better when sopping up the juices.

The next night we went to a very popular restaurant in Old Town, called Tamam. We got there before the dinner rush (around 9:00 at night) so we were able to get a table easily, though packed against the wall.

They brought us bread and olives and a disk of butter with chives, garlic and pimentos in it. So incredibly delicious. I must remember to make some of that when I get home.

Jen and I ordered a Cretan salad to start, along with some saganaki (fried cheese). The salad had delicious creamy goat cheese on it and potatoes that were boiled in broth or something very flavorful - these potatoes, you can eat on their own, with no dressing, butter or anything. I must figure out how they cook them!

For my main dish, I had stewed lamb over yogurt and served with pita bread and fresh herbs dancing a bit in the sauce on top. This is easily the best meal I've had here, so rich and dense with flavor and heavenly.

Saturday night, we pushed our bedtime and hung out in Old Town, eating dinner at 10:00 and watched the young people head over to the clubs. It is an incredible skill to maneuver in 3-inch heels on cobblestone, but they do it and they don't fall. Even though I did. Yes, flat on my face on the cobblestone, even though I was wearing flats and had not had anything to drink.

But anyway, we sat at a corner table on the waterfront, eating a huge plate of appetizers, including Cretan pies, boiled potatoes, grape leaves, tomatoes, fried eggplant, hummus and tzatziki. We watched a group of kids, dressed in jeans and bejeweled t-shirts from a nearby club get into an argument, yelling, and pushing, but never punching. Police, nowhere to be seen. We were anticipating a big fight, but it never happened. And then, we were tired from all the anticipation and walked back to our apartment around 11:30 and went to bed.

I found a cooking class to take, hopefully this week, at an old Cretan farmhouse outside of town. I'm so excited about the possibility of tasting cheese and olives and cooking Cretan food all day. I have also determined that I'm going to go snorkeling or scuba diving or something. Oh! And also. I'm going to buy some hiking shoes and hike the Samaria Gorge. I know. It seems like I'm a different person, wanting to do all these outdoorsey things. Well maybe I am.

The Virgin Traveler: I discover I am a sunbather.

2009-10-02T06:12:00.001-07:00

I have always thought laying out in the sun was fairly boring. And painful. Especially when you don't apply sunscreen prior to exposing your pale, white skin to the world. But today, I sat on a beach chair on the roof of our apartment, reading a book for a good two hours. Because how could I not. Look at the view. I'm in heaven. And I didn't even burn myself to a crisp. Yet.

The Virgin Traveler: Where I discover that I do not, in fact, hate history

2009-10-02T01:22:00.001-07:00

So first of all, I just have to show you what I am looking at right now as I am writing this. I'm sitting at an internet cafe on the waterfront in Chania. Here is the scene from my chair on the patio. It's about 75 degrees and breezy. Life could not be more perfect.

On Wednesday, my sister Chelsea and friend Amber flew in from Sweden to meet up with us for our Cretan adventure. The ferries only leave at night, so we had a whole day to explore Athens. We ended up taking a bus tour, where you could hop on and off of the bus at the different sightseeing spots. I was mainly interested in seeing the Parthenon, because it's probably the only chance I'll ever have at seeing something like that.

So we hopped off the shiny, red tourist bus and walked up to the Parthenon. I have never liked history all that much. Never really appreciated it. But getting up close to such a building - one that was built without all the computers, machinery and automation that we have today. It's seriously unbelievable. The mass alone is overwhelming, the structure and intricacies of the design are amazing. And by the time we got done hiking around the building, I had a headache from forcing myself not to cry.

It was breathtaking and thinking about the ancient Greeks building the same building that I was standing near... crap. Here come the tears again. I can't believe I am here!

After that, we stopped at a sidewalk cafe for some late lunch. I ordered Moussaka. A dish with potato on the bottom, a lamb and tomato filling, eggplant and a cheese topping, served in a little casserole dish. It was sweet and tangy and had just a touch of cinnamon. Warm and filling, I was ready to sleep.

Unfortunately, we had to be on our way. We picked up our luggage and dragged it onto the Metro in the midst of a communism protest in the middle of Athens and made our way to Pireaus, the port where all the ferries leave.

The ferry was huge and spacious. The Greeks smoke like nothing I've ever seen, so much that their cigarette smoke filled up the huge and spacious ferry. We sat near the open end because otherwise we couldn't breathe. Fabio was sitting near us. A big, muscular Greek man with flowing hair and a sharp nose and eyes I could fall into. Beautiful.

We arrived in Chania at 5 in the morning and hung out on the ferry for a couple of hours, since we couldn't check into our room until 11. We had a little breakfast and then made our way to Old Town Chania, where we are staying.

It's a beautiful part of town, with crumbling buildings painted bright yellow and the glistening water, clear as a window, Greek music playing everywhere and the peace and calm of a relaxed life. Suddenly I want to know how all this came about. How the town was built. Where did the people come from. What did they do. Because it matters. The history of all of it matters. And making it part of my history is what I can't wait for.

The Virgin Traveler: All-night ferry rides make for a long day.

2009-10-01T13:03:00.000-07:00

I have so much to tell you and show you from the last couple of days! We saw the Acropolis and toured Athens, then took an all-night ferry ride from Pireaus to Chania last night. We finally crashed at our apartment this afternoon. So tired! But I wanted to post a few pictures from the beautiful city. I am so in love with Old Town Chania that I might never leave. Oh. My. Gosh.

The views from our apartment.

The gorgeous Greek guitarist making beautiful music during dinner.

Old Town Chania at night. Isn't it a dream?

The Virgin Traveler: I get some action and eat food.

2009-09-29T10:48:00.000-07:00

Okay, so my definition of "action" is pretty general. But today, I was eating a gyro at a restaurant and the old Greek waiter pinched my cheek and said,"ohh, so beautiful." That counts, right? Well, regardless of what you think, I'm counting it. In my action journal. (Don't you wish you could read that?) (Okay, fine. It's mostly blank. But it's going to be filled up by the time I leave Greece. I mean, I already have the ex-con with drug scars and no teeth telling me thank you for my smile and now the pinched cheek. I've only been here a couple of days! By the time I leave, I might be a full-blown whore.) (Mom, Dad, I'm just kidding about the whore part.)

The gyro is served differently at the sit down restaurants than if you stopped at a shop on the street. It's a big heaping pile of meat and onions and tzatziki on warm pita bread. It was so good. Obviously. I'm in Greece. The meat was thinly sliced and a little dry, but not in a bad way - it was almost like jerky in some bites, and soft in others. The onions were pungent and sprinkled with paprika. The tzatziki was crunchy with cucumbers and tart yogurt.

So after the pinched cheek episode, we wandered over to a fresh fruit stand and bought grapes, figs and peaches. Then we came back to our hotel and did a photo shoot on the balcony. Then we ate our props and fell into a fruit coma.

Tonight, I ate dinner by myself, amongst many Greek men and a couple of women at a Romanian restaurant across the street from our hotel. Cabbage rolls filled with rice and tomato sauce, covered in sour cream and served with polenta. So good. And filling. And the restaurant looks like a Greek version of Le Happy, which made me say "Awwww." And feel at home.

Tomorrow, Jen and I meet up with Amber and Chelsea in Omonia Square, then we take the all-night ferry to Crete, where we will frolic on beaches, eat octopus and go to many tavernas.

The Virgin Traveler: Remedial Sightseeing

2009-09-28T20:44:00.000-07:00

I woke up with an airplane hangover. It was 11:00 in the morning in Athens and my head was throbbing. My back was sore and my stomach hurt. Not getting enough sleep for me is like being chewed up by a dragon and spit out. But we had to get up and go - I needed some real food and probably a Coca-Cola Light, as they call it here.

We wandered over to a nearby Cafe Ristorante. Chicken pita sandwich seemed like a good choice to get rid of my hangover. Jen ordered Greek Coffee and a chocolate croissant. I liked watching all the people while we waited for our food. For some reason, hearing Greek and not understanding a word of it is like listening to music. It sounds beautiful. I also love that when I say "thank you," in English, they understand what I mean.

The pita sandwich was good, the mayo was sweet and the carrots were pickled. It was just what I needed. I had a bite of Jen's croissant, too, which was lovely. Soft, warm chocolate in the middle.

We headed out walking down the street and saw some gyro shops with big hunks of meat in the window. I'm going back there to get some - it smelled so amazing! And across the street was the meat market. I've never been anywhere like that before - huge hunks of meat, lambs, pigs, hanging and the vendors shouting, trying to get you to buy their meat. It made me wish I was staying somewhere with a kitchen.

We ended up at the Athens Flea Market in the square with Hadrian's Library. It's bizarre really, to see a Columbia Sportswear shop on one corner and then walk a few feet and see an ancient building. A little girl playing the accordian walked up to me, smiling. When we got up to walk away, she asked for money. I didn't have any change, so I said sorry - I felt a little bit bad.

Then another guy came up and was speaking in Greek very fast. When I told him I didn't understand, he said, "Thank you for [made motions with his hands to indicate smiling]," then he crossed his wrists, which I guess meant he was incarcerated. So I guess he was saying, "Thank you so much for your beautiful smile because I just got out of prison and it made my day!" Right? That's how I'm interpreting it. Now if I can just find a Greek man who has teeth and not so many drug scars and maybe hasn't been in prison...

We came back for a nap, and I slept too long. It was getting dark, so we ended up just going to a bakery for dinner and I got cheese pies and something like baklava, except it was filled with dates. It was sticky with honey and chewy with dates and crispy with filo dough. And it was all over my hands.

We retired early. This jetlag thing is serious! And this morning I woke up with another headache, which I am determined to fight off with caffeine and ibuprofen. We are headed to the Acropolis today and to find some gyros, and lamb and feta cheese. I can't wait!

The Virgin Traveler: I leave and take a trip. Overseas.

2009-09-27T11:42:00.000-07:00

I didn't have access to the internet for almost 36 hours! Traumatizing! Here are the tweets and Facebook status updates I would have posted, if I had been able (in chronological order.)

I'm on the plane! First to Chicago. Five hour flight. Not bad!

Chicago!

Wish we had time to go find real Chicago pizza instead of this crappy little Italian joint.

The pizza at this restaurant is not good, unless you douse it with olive oil and all that crap they just gave us to put on the bread.

This plane is a freaking big-ass plane. And all the Lufthansa staff are pretty. Even the men.

WHAT. They give you hot towels? I love the Germans!

The food on the international flight is better. Also. They don't make you pay for goldfish crackers. Or alcohol.

Pretty sure if I don't get off this plane in the next five minutes, I'm going to have a meltdown.

Just watched My Life in Ruins. That movie sucks. But yay for Greece!

Pretty sure if I don't get off this plane in the next five minutes, I'm going to have a meltdown.

My butt is bruised. I'm certain. Also, my feet hurt. Also, I smell and haven't showered in 24 hours.

I just got my very first stamp in my passport!

At the Dusseldorf Airport. I feel like everyone is talking about me when they talk in German.

We can't check in to our flight to Athens for two hours. We are trying to sleep, but it's not working.

Also. Germans bring their dogs with them to the airport. There are lots of little dogs running around. Also the police carry machine guns.

Eating a bratwurst and a coca-cola light.

I can't get on another plane, I can't get on another plane. I think I'll vacation in Dusseldorf instead.

I'm on another plane.

Smashed between a Greek man and Jen. It's hot. And I don't mean in a sexy way.

Hey you guys. The Greek soccer team is on our flight. This makes our flight hot in a sexy way.

Accidentally took the Greek man's water. I apologized and we clinked glasses as he said "Cheers!"

Just told the Greek man about my trip. "You have planned a trip that only the Americans can plan. I am very jealous!"

Greek man approves of our three days in Athens, two weeks on Crete plan. Very smart, he said.

Flying over the Bavaraian Alps. Wish I had my camera accesible. OMG. I AM IN EUROPE.

Trying not to cry because I can't believe I am finally going to Greece. Also. It's very hot on this plane and I might not make it.

Aegean Airlines gives you a full-out meal on a 2.5 hour flight. Pasta w/ peas, crackers, roll with Happy Cow cheese and chocolate cake!

Pretty sure if I don't get off this plane in the next five minutes, I'm going to jump off. My butt is bruised (still) and it is hot. Very very hot.

OMG I just turned to Jen and said, "would it be inappropriate to cheer when we land?" And then we landed and everyone clapped!

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Greece.

On the metro to downtown Athens. I keep falling asleep. This is not good.

We are lost in downtown Athens trying to find our hotel.

Just asked a policeman where our hotel was. He said, "That is very bad part of town, who told you to stay there, the internet?"

Walked past several good looking hookers, but we found our hotel! And we were not molested! And it's not a total dump. We just can't go outside after 10 at night.

So tired. Finally took a shower and my feet, legs, head, face and hair are throbbing.

Holy cow. I am in Greece! Will try not to spontaneously cry, but tears keep falling down my face because I have wanted to come here for so long. Must. Not. Cry.

Had 7-Up from the bar. Feel like I might fall over.

Twitpic: View from our hotel balcony overlooking the sketchy part of town.

Good night, Athens!

I'm leaving on a jet plane, with tears falling.

2009-09-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

Portland's literary events are SHINING right now. And I can't go to any of it!

Tomorrow night: Back Fence PDX - Temporary Insanity

No, this is not all about me. That would be called PERMANENT insanity. Stories about temporary insanity from lots of people, including a pet psychic and a 14-year old musician! Also free cupcakes from Saint Cupcake. Tickets are $10 in advance, $12 at the door. At the Mission Theater. GO.

Thursday night: Wally Lamb at Portland Arts and Lectures.

I love this series. Like I'm in love with it. It's so insightful to hear these writers read and talk about their work. Because don't you want to hear them read their own words in their own voice? And answer your questions? Of course you do. GO.

October 3: XY&Z: A Benefit for Write Around Portland

Because if I had all the money in the world and all the time in the world. I would spend all of it on Write Around Portland. Writing and community get married and breed well at Write Around Portland. Don't you want to be a part of that?

October 9-10: WORDSTOCK.

I'm absolutely the most sad about missing this event. Last year I was in Wordstock, organizing emcees. And I loved it. I loved all the people I worked with - good people. And smart. And they put in literally hundreds and hundreds of hours to pull this off. Mostly volunteering! This year, they have a focus on food. Which is one of the reasons I am so sad. Because, you know, I love food.

Portland! Go to these events! Give them your money! Keep these events going! You will get smarter. I promise.

Lizzy Revisited: Cheating on my Blind Date with Lincoln

2009-09-18T07:11:00.000-07:00

This was originally posted in August of 2008.

I used to be addicted to Agatha Christie murder mysteries. I was pretty good about just reading them straight through, until the last Hercule Poirot mystery (Curtain), when for some reason, I could not stop myself from reading the ending when I was only half-way through the book. Oh how I regretted that moment. I cheated. And it took all the glory out of the ending.

A couple of weeks ago, I was persuaded by my restless, impatient mind to cheat again. My restaurant group had a reservation at Lincoln, a restaurant that was so new, the menu wasn't even online. We had no idea what the prices were, what the food was like, and wasn't it exciting! Ansley even said it was like going on a blind date with food. Then about a week or so before we planned to go, the menu appeared on their website. I promised myself that I wouldn't look. I wanted to be surprised, to make capricious choices, to fully enjoy the spontaneity of the moment.

Theoretically, it was a good idea, but I couldn't wait. I looked. And I picked out what I was having that very second: hanger steak with anchovy butter and onion rings. We clicked, me and the hanger steak, from the very beginning. I knew that we were MFEO (made for each other). I dreamed about that steak all week and when Friday came, I was anxiously anticipating my "blind" date. I had already looked at Lincoln's picture and knew that he had all his teeth, did not wear a patch over one eye, held a job and did not hit his mother.

We started out exchanging pleasantries and getting to know each other. I knew right away that we were going to hit it off. Thyme flatbread with chicken liver pate and grilled bunching onions (dark, rich, fresh), deep fried skewers of mozzarella and bread (hot, melty, comfort), crispy potato and sage fritters (crispy on the outside, soft on the inside). The waitress brought us tons of amazingly chewy/crispy bread with a lot of butter and salt (bless you!)

As we waited for our entrees, I was getting nervous to see IRL (in real life) the steak of my dreams. I knew that I wouldn't just take a bite. Sometimes you just gotta live. I had enough of the pleasantries and when my steak arrived, I threw caution to the wind and went straight to second base. It didn't disappoint - cooked perfectly medium rare, with a salty, slightly anchovied butter melting along side and light, crispy, well-cooked onion rings. Other people had cheesy risotto with summer vegetables, the lamb chop, and half a chicken. I didn't bother flirting with other people's dates. I was crushing hard on mine.

After the steak, we talked about it, and decided to go all the way. It was peach ice cream with homemade butterscotch sauce for me. The hot butterscotch slithered down the fresh peach ice cream seductively. The sauce pooled at the bottom of my ice cream dish and my favorite part of the whole night was delving into that peach laced stickiness with my spoon. Sweet, slightly salty and a little twinge of fresh peach.

Well, I don't know what else to say. Lincoln was cheeky and just as handsome as his picture. Maybe next time I'll have more restraint, but it's not likely.

P.S. I don't regret cheating.

Lizzy Revisited: The Short Bus

2009-09-17T16:07:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling bad about not writing for so long, so I decided to re-post some old Lizzy Dishes posts that I like. This first one was originally posted last November. I wrote it for a storytelling event, where people listened with horrified expressions on their faces and made groaning, sympathy noises. Then someone shouted, "We still love you!" They didn't get it. This was indeed part of my childhood. But it's FUNNY. At least I think it's funny. So please don't feel sorry for me. Just laugh. Okay?

My rep as a goody goody was hard to shake. There were little things that perpetuated my situation, like the time my mom tried to get Judy Blume books banned from our school library, or the time I had a sleepover at my house and my parents wouldn’t let us watch Grease. But mainly, it was my personality and my self-esteem deficit that screamed “I am a loser!!!!!”

I tried to reverse these situations with such crazy rebellious acts as rolling my eyes at the teacher and practicing swearing in my backyard so that when the situation called for it, I could whip out cuss words like nobody’s business.

Right about the time I was getting comfortable with my newfound sassiness, my mother decided to pick up an extra job. She announced one night, that she would be driving a school bus. Not just any school bus. The Special Ed bus. The short bus. The short bus that said “Sullivan County Rehab Center” on the side of it in giant black letters.

This would have been humiliating on its own, had the school bus company had strict rules about, oh, say, the school bus drivers not going off the route to take their own kids to and from school. But because the normal school bus did not come by our house, my mom decided that it was okay to take us to and from school on her bus route.

We all piled in the short bus in the morning. There were four of us, plus my baby brother in a car seat in the front row. The school bus was old. Some parts of the floor were completely rusted through and often I found myself mesmerized by the road passing beneath us.

First stop was John, who was about 20 and had Down’s Syndrome. He would stomp up onto the bus and plop on the seat in front of us. Then there were the twins, who had one conversation every morning: “Hi Jim, How are you?” “I’m fine, Tina, How are you?” “I’m fine, how are you?” And so on and so forth, all the way to school. Big John, a 300-pound boisterous handicapped guy, could make all of us smile, especially my mom. “Mrs. Fuss,” he would say every morning, “You look like a movie star!”

My older sister and I did not get along and would often fight on the bus rides. The Rehab Center students would take sides. “Your teeth are yellow,” my sister would say to me. They would laugh. “Shut up!” I would whine. “Yeah, you tell her!” They would yell. We fought about important things, like how ugly each others’ clothes were, or how stupid the other person was. Everytime, they would all jump in and defend us, both of us, no matter what we were saying.

My mom always felt like she had to “drop us at the door” of the school. No dropping us off at the end of the driveway – nope, she had to drive up the school driveway and drive through the parking lot, which oddly was part of the playground. All one-hundred kids would be waiting outside for the bell to ring, and they would all stare as we jumped off the bus. I always hoped that the bus was so dirty that they couldn’t see the words REHAB CENTER on the side.

But, when the day was over, we would go outside and wait for our mom to pick us up. And there she would come, up the driveway, and the kids would yell, “Here comes the Fuss Bus!”

Preview of Coming Attractions

2009-09-14T21:55:00.000-07:00

First I'm going here:

Athens

Then I'm going here:

Crete

Then I'm going here:

Santorini

And the whole time I'll be enjoying food like this lovely man writes about. The adventure begins in eleven days.

Apology Photos

2009-09-07T21:35:00.000-07:00

I have been a terrible blogger of late! So sorry. I'm afraid the next couple of weeks don't look much better. I've just moved this past weekend and am staying with my parents for the next two and a half weeks before I leave for Greece. And, as the HR manager of a plant that is shutting its doors in the next two months, I have pretty much been stressed out of my mind and unable to write anything good by the time I get home at night.

So. I'm leaving you with some pictures that I managed to photograph at some recent meals. I promise I'll go back and do real write-ups as soon as I can. I'll be writing hopefully every day from Greece, with all my adventures, which will include good food, handsome Greek men and carefree happiness.

Thanks for your patience, dear readers!

1. Lamb + kale gratin at Nel Centro
2. Sausage + eggs + potatoes + toast at Stepping Stone Cafe
3. Caprese Salad at Caffe Mingo
4. Bucatini + meatballs, at Nel Centro

Trapped

2009-09-01T05:21:00.000-07:00

I had a conversation last week with a man who was trapped. Trapped by his decisions, trapped by circumstances, trapped by obligations. There was no way out. I could see the the fear on his face, the stress. There was no way out. I felt it in my gut, for a small piece of time, what he felt. Except I could get away from it. I thought about cooking dinner for my family. About my upcoming trip to Greece. Snap. I was away from the trapped feeling. I was free. But this man, he was not free. And I both feared for him and feared him.

The movie Forgiven is about a man in such a circumstance. Ronald Bradler (Russell Hornsby) is about to be executed for a crime he didn't commit. With six minutes to spare, he is pardoned. But the stigma of a felony is still there. He can't find a job, he can't make a living. There is no way out.

The district attorney (Paul Fitzgerald, who also wrote and directed) who convicted Bradler is running for the senate, and who, propelled by community expectations and drive, made some mistakes of his own on the case. He, too, trapped by circumstances, made a slave of public perception. The DA and the felon meet and what happens is not good. In fact, it's heart-wrenching, tragic and I cried for a long time.

The film has that independent film edge to it, the footage seems raw and real. The actors do a fine job - and it's a powerful story. To be honest, I'm having a hard time writing about the film itself instead of the storyline. Each of the characters were real to me and I felt that I was witnessing something real, which made it very difficult to watch, given the subject matter.

I suppose feeling a part of the film is a testament to the filmmaking. Isn't that the point of films, to pull the audience in, to feel connected to the characters, to cry when unspeakable tragedy and horror encroaches on the screen? On all counts, I felt a part of this film. Its message is strong - and hard to look in the eyes.

This isn't a "hey it's Friday, let's hang out and watch a movie" kind of a movie. It's more of a rainy-Sunday-afternoon-I-want-to-change-the-world kind of a movie. And you will want to change the world after you see Forgiven. When I finished watching the movie, I spent the next few hours dreaming about working on The Innocence Project, as a lawyer, as an assistant, anything. I dreamed about having a job that can take away the hopeless feeling - of employing people like Ronald, or maybe being a counselor. I could help. In some way.

Then. It was time for dinner. And life went on as it normally does. And I went back to my job and dreaming about my vacation, my mind hosting a seed for change somewhere, that at some point will grow into an idea of what I can do to help. But right now, I don't know.

Forgiven is available on iTunes and at Amazon.com.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

2009-08-23T22:42:00.000-07:00

The next three months will be so exciting. I'm moving, going to Greece, leaving my job (or it will be leaving me, I guess), and embarking on whatever new career I come up with. I will be writing to you from Greece, on this blog, keeping you apprised of my adventures (of which I expect to have many) during my month of travels.

I have so many ideas of what to do when I get back from Greece and finish up my job. But I haven't decided definitively on anything yet, except that I want to keep writing. Since I will be unemployed, my eating out budget will be significantly reduced, so you may see some other topics discussed here. I will also be staying just outside of Vancouver, Washington for several months and plan on checking out some of the restaurants in that area on a limited basis (suggestions welcome).

So that's all. I'm excited. There are so many possibilities and I can't wait to explore them. In the meantime, I may be posting less frequently as I get all this straightened out and prepare for my upcoming adventures. As always, thanks for reading!

Five Guys and a Matinee

2009-08-17T20:38:00.000-07:00

Whoa. Today was all kinds of stress. Intense four hours at work, then leaving early. The stress devoured the bagel sitting in my stomach from breakfast and I was starving. Well, you know, as starving as a girl like me can get. I was meeting a friend at the Cedar Hills movie theater in Beaverton. It's one of my favorites because they serve good popcorn there - Orville Redenbacher - and also they serve Dreyer's ice cream. And also. Their seats are awesome.

I stopped at Five Guys Burgers and Fries on my way to the theater. I walked in and it was a little bit of a circus. Bright red and white decor, with awards plastered on the wall for best burger, best family restaurant, etc.. Bags of potatoes were stacked on the floor and the place was filled with the torsos of the people they always feature on the news in stories about overweight America. (I include myself in that description.)

I ordered the Little Cheeseburger, because I have never been fond of two patty burgers. Also. I hate the word patty. I also ordered fries because there was a chalkboard near the counter that said: "Today's Fries came from: Quincy, Washington." I wanted to taste the Quincy Fries.

All their burger toppings are free and I had them put mayo, mustard, ketchup, onions and pickles on mine. That, to me, is a perfect burger.

I watched them flip and assemble the burgers, but my attention was mostly focused on the fries. They fill up a cup of fries, put it in the bag, then dump another scoop on top of the burger and fries in the bag. Totally excessive. But I don't think that bothered even one patron I saw, as the bags lay ripped open on the tables like the bodice of a heroine from one of those grocery store romance novels, ravaged by Fabio as the fries were ravaged by Five Guys customers.

My burger was messy. With processed cheese hiding any view of the condiments and smashed flat, it looked like a comfort food dream. There was a lack of pickles. I think there were only two. But it was very saucy, which I like and the beef tasted good enough. It was juicy, which I was worried about when I saw the sign that said they cook all their burgers well-done.

The fries were perfect. They tasted fresh. I don't think they are frozen - they were damn good - crispy and creamy on the inside. I ravaged them.

Then I went and saw District 9. I nearly lost my lunch on multiple occasions while watching. But I fought to keep my lunch in, as I enjoyed it way to much to lose it on aliens.

I feel pretty, oh so pretty. Well, my pie does, anyway.

2009-08-16T20:28:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, I decided last minute-ish to enter the Portland Pie-Off. I'm not really a baker and I do savory better than sweet. But I'm not above experimenting.

So I made two pies: a Greek savory pie (in honor of my upcoming vacation) and a Lemon Raspberry Cream Pie with Pistachio Brittle. Both were pretty good, but the Greek pie, which I named Stavros Pie (because it sounded more interesting than Greek Pie), I was most proud of. And it won an award! The Prettiest Pie Award! I got a ribbon and a gift card to New Seasons. Thank you, Portland Pie Commission!

Here's the recipe for the Greek Pie:
1 unbaked pie crust
2 lbs ground lamb
1/2 red onion, minced
1 T. olive oil
2 t. Kosher salt
1 t. fresh ground pepper
1 t. cinnamon
pinch of anise seed
1 t. cumin
1/4 c. flour
2 T. lemon juice
8 oz. goat cheese + extra for garnish
1/4 c. bread crumbs
3 eggs
fresh oregano
1/2 c. minced kalamata olives
1 leek, cleaned and minced
1 pint cherry tomatoes
olive oil

Add ground lamb to saucepan. Cook over medium high heat. While it is cooking, add the red onion and the cinnamon, cumin and anise seed, salt and pepper. Cook until onions are translucent and the lamb is completely cooked. Drain the meat/onion mixture to get rid of excess grease from the lamb. Add the mixture back into the saucepan. Add the olive oil and the flour. Stir until meat is coated and cook over medium high heat for about 5 minutes. Add the lemon juice and scrape up the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Remove from heat and let cool completely.

While meat is cooling, cut cherry tomatoes into halves, toss in a bowl with a drizzle of olive oil, salt and pepper and roast in the oven on 450 for 15 minutes, until tomatoes are burst and starting to char. Remove from oven and let cool.

In a saute pan, add a drizzle of olive oil and the leeks. Season with salt and pepper. Cook over medium high until caramelized, stirring occasionally, for about 15 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool.

When the meat is cooled, add the goat cheese, bread crumbs, a few leaves of fresh oregano, 1/4 cup of chopped olives and eggs. Mix together thoroughly.

To assemble the pie, add the meat mixture to the empty pie crust. Cover the top of the mixture with the caramelized leeks, remaining olives and roasted tomatoes. If desired, dot the top of the pie with goat cheese.

Bake in oven for 1 hour at 375 degrees. Garnish with fresh oregano and serve warm.

Much Ado About Nothing (or The Tale of the Time Traveler's Wife)

2009-08-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

I don't do what's popular when it comes to books. I didn't read The Da Vinci Code, The Jane Austen Book Club, or Eat, Pray, Love. Not that they aren't good. I mean, I don't know if they're good. But I don't really care. I've had so many people tell me to read them that I don't read them, just so I can say that I'm the only person that hasn't read them. (I know. It's very mature behavior.) The Time Traveler's Wife is one of those books.

I've had friends that have read it two or three times. It's so romantic, such a good story, so addicting, they say. So I was kind of excited to see the movie. So I could see what all the fuss was about. Also because I was curious to see how the whole time travel thing would translate to screen. And tonight. I found out.

As one who cries when there is applause at a concert or at any random, sappy Lifetime movie, I did not shed one tear in The Time Traveler's Wife. In birth, romance or death. No. Tears. Why? Because I didn't care what happened to any of the characters.

Clare (Rachel McAdams) and Henry (Eric Bana) start out meeting in a library and somehow fall in love, though it's never really clear why they like each other, what their interests are, why they are attracted to each other. Empty dialogue attempts to narrate the story, but does not explain anything. There are flashbacks. There's time travel. He's there and then he's gone. He's being chased, she's home alone crying. It's not about her, the title character, The Time Traveler's Wife. In fact we know less about her than any of the characters, which is mildly annoying since she is the title character. But only mildly because I was not emotionally invested at all.

Clare and Henry get married, because he decides that he's "not lonely anymore." During the wedding, he keeps leaving to time travel and coming back either older, with gray hair or younger, with black hair. Multiple times. In one day and with guests around, though they never seem to notice. Everyone just acts like it's normal that a guy will have gray hair then black hair within twenty minutes without the assistance of a hair stylist and some dye. This is where I laughed out loud. It was not romantic at all. Especially on their wedding night when... oh never mind. It's not about their wedding.

The time travel was problematic and nonsensical. Yes, I know it's a fantasy kind of a story. But I can watch Firefly and have my disbelief completely suspended while I'm watching spaceships flying around. I did not believe the time travel for a minute. Time traveler talking to current self, giving advice. Time traveler as playmate to current self. Time traveler being romantic with current self's wife.Time travel is a silly complication that's totally unnecessary. It's not about time travel.

There's just no story there. There's no real conflict and there's no resolution to the non-conflict. And then it ends. It was like a two hour long montage of video a sometimes happy, sometimes sad couple. And sometimes they talk. It's about nothing. The end.

If you've read the book, see the movie. Otherwise, don't bother.

The Time Traveler's Wife opens in wide release on Friday.

The Non-Snobby Nob Hill Bar and Grill

2009-08-10T00:10:00.000-07:00

Nob Hill Bar and Grill does not match it's name. In the midst of the pretentiousness on NW 23rd Avenue, the visibly older establishment unashamedly invites the average person in for a bite. Being entirely average on a lazy Saturday afternoon, I found myself wandering through their doors.

There were a couple of people at the bar. At first glance, they might have been homeless. (Twenty-third Avenue, despite it's desire for the wealthy pocketbooks, also attracts many without pocketbooks at all.) At second glance, they were probably just regular people, albeit not the 23rd crowd of high maintenance with white pants with red heels and a constantly tossing bleached head of hair on an overtanned body.

I found a corner table and focused on a car race on the tv. The walls within my sight were covered with CitySearch awards for the best burger, and I could see an older gentleman, with glasses at the end of his nose flipping burgers in the kitchen.

The waitress, friendly and smiley, asked me for my order. I went for the BLT. That's what I order when I feel like being healthy. (Blah blah fatty mayo and bacon. Can't hear you. It's totally healthy.)

My sandwich came out within 10 minutes. And it was really quite good. Layers of crunchy lettuce, juicy tomatoes and thick bacon with a simple layer of mayo and nothing else, on toasted sourdough. Just the way I like it. No fussy, fancy ingredients, just simple, crunchy, salty goodness.

The fries were a different story. Some of them translucent from the oil they were fried in, they were greasy and chalky tasting. Next time, I'll get the chips. Yes. There will be a next time. I have to taste their award-winning burger.

Sunday Experiments with Pomegranate Juice

2009-08-09T23:09:00.001-07:00

Every once in a while a company will send me products to review or sample. I only write about them if I like them and if I think it will be useful to my readers. Last week, the POM Wonderful company emailed me to see if I would like to receive some pomegranate juice. This was an easy one for me. Because I loved pomegranate juice long before my love was reciprocated.

I was surprised when a box of 8 bottles of pomegranate juice arrived in the mail. What would I possibly do with that much juice? I drank some, which was delicious, but then I got the urge to cook and packed the rest up for my cooking extravaganza this weekend at my parents' house while they were out of town.

First up:

Pomegranate Blueberry Sorbet

1/2 c. water
1/2 c. sugar
16 oz. pomegranate juice
2 c. frozen or fresh blueberries

Combine water and sugar in a saucepan and bring to a boil, until sugar is dissolved. Add pomegranate juice and blueberries. Bring to a boil again, stirring occasionally to break up some of the blueberries. Let it cool completely. Pour into ice cream maker and follow manufacturer's instructions.

Yield: 1 qt.

A scoop of this sorbet in a glass with club soda poured over it is very refreshing.

Next:

Chicken with Pomegranate Sauce

4 chicken thighs, skin on, bone-in
Kosher salt
fresh ground pepper
olive oil
1/2 yellow onion, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
2 c. vegetable stock
8 oz. pomegranate juice

Season chicken thighs with salt and pepper and place in a preheated pan, skin side down. Cover and turn heat to medium high. Cover and let chicken brown until skin is crispy and brown, about 12 minutes. Turn thighs over and cook for another 5-6 minutes. Remove from pan and set aside on a plate.

You may need to spoon some of the skin grease out of the pan after the chicken is cooked, leave 1-2 T. in the pan. Add the onion and garlic and saute until caramelized and lightly browned. At this point, you can remove the onions and garlic and set aside to use in a side dish (mashed potatoes are good) or you can leave them in the sauce. I prefer to remove them so that the sauce is smooth, but still has the flavor of the onions and garlic.

Add one cup of the vegetable stock to the pan to deglaze and scrape up the brown bits off the bottom of the pan. Once the pan is deglazed, add the pomegranate juice, kosher salt and fresh ground pepper. Bring to a boil and let simmer for 10 minutes, until reduced by half. Add remaining stock and bring to a boil again. Add the chicken back into the sauce and turn off the heat. Cover and let it sit for 5-6 minutes. Be sure to spoon sauce over the chicken, so the flavor is in every bite.

**********

Pomegranate juice is rich and deep and more intense than regular juices. It's also good for you. But mostly it just tastes really good and is versatile in cooking. The chicken recipe that I made today was not super sweet, just a touch of sweet, like I had added wine to the recipe. The sorbet was sweet, but not overly so, but again had that deep richness that I so appreciate in food. It can be expensive - so don't buy it at the gourmet stores. Shop around a little. It's worth it.

Inside Every One of Us

2009-08-08T07:19:00.000-07:00

This trailer is brilliant.

Frittering Away Precious Time Staring At Ben Affleck.

2009-08-06T00:07:00.000-07:00

I love a good happy hour. Especially when they are super cheap. The Gilt Club is not super cheap. All the food is $5 during happy hour. But it is really good food and I didn't even care that I ended up spending $20 on food and drinks. Also because our waiter looked like Ben Affleck. Don't get me wrong, I think Ben Affleck is a terrible actor and is probably pretty dumb, but I'm not ashamed to say that he is a beautiful specimen. As was the waiter.

But anyway. I ordered a mini-bacon cheeseburger, which was tiny, but seriously so flavorful, with a special sauce and crunchy thick bacon on top of a medium rare little burger, topped with vegetables and housed on a lovely little bun, that I wanted to just keep it in my mouth and not swallow ever. I'm sure everyone is glad that I moved on and swallowed before I dug into the fries and the manchego cheese fritters in a red pepper sauce. Yes.

The fritters rocked: tangy, a little sweet, crunchy and melty with the exotic Spanish cheese. In fact, if they were to have presented me with a basket of them (a la Chili's), instead of a plate of three, I would have eaten them all. Which I'm sure would have been attractive to Ben Affleck the waiter. Because, hello. I appreciate good food and it shows. In more ways than one.

I TOLD you I didn't like hiking.

2009-08-04T22:13:00.000-07:00

You know how every summer, people fall off cliffs and mountains and there are all those creepy murders on trails and stuff? Basically, lots of scary and dead people out in nature. And that, my friends, is the premise of A Perfect Getaway.

Steve Zahn and Milla Jovavich star in this silly, tepid suspense flick that pits couple against couple in hand-to-hand combat on the Hawaiian islands. Cliff and Cydney (Zahn and Jovavich) are happy honeymooners embarking on a hike in the dreamy waterfalls of the islands. They meet Nick and Gina (Timothy Olyphant and Kiele Sanchez), and the four decide to hike to the falls together.

Suspicions on both sides taint their conversations and interactions and personal stories about their pasts spill out unexpectedly and their relationship deepens as they get comfortable with each other.

Then. There is fighting and running and stabbing and shooting. [Story in a nutshull.]

Steve Zahn should really stick to comedy. He's not believeable as a serious human being. And I haven't seen Milla Jovavich in anything since she was in a Disney miniseries when she was a kid, so I can't compare it to anything. But her acting was labored. And I didn't care what happened to either of them. The character development was... lame.

The far more capable and believeable actors were Olyphant and Sanchez, who captured my interest from the beginning - there was a depth there that wasn't with Zahn and Jovavich.

Anyhow. The movie wasn't scary. Really at all. There were a few jumpy moments, but it was never scary. Which I was disappointed in, because I love scary movies. There were holes in the movie that were never explained and that annoyed me because that is just lazy storytelling.

It did reinforce my attitude on why exploring the outdoors should be left to the wild animals and the certified nature people. Because there are lots of scary and dead people in the outdoors.

**Note: No, I will not go camping/hiking/caving with you. Do you think I'm stupid? Murderer!

Rent it when you're bored. This is a Saturday afternoon trash tv movie at best.

Opens Friday in theaters everywhere.

McMediocrity

2009-08-01T16:25:00.000-07:00

There's about four McMenamin's establishments within walking distance from my house. Probably more. Throughout the Portland area, McMenamin's is a staple for burgers, cheap movies and beer. Their food has always been blah. Burgers are thin, overcooked patties and the salads are drenched in dressing unless you request it on the side. Service is average at best and it's usually not best.

But you know what the food is going to taste like. It's reliably mediocre. And sometimes Cajun Tater Tots are really what you want. Recently I noticed that at the Ram's Head Pub near my house, the happy hour menu changed. Curry fries and totchoes - new items that piqued my curiosity.

Last night, in need of some planning for our trip to Greece, my friends and I met at Ram's Head to plan some details on the wifi and to try the totchoes. Because who wouldn't want nachos with tots instead of chips? I was imagining piles of crispy tots, ground beef, lots of cheese sauce, sour cream, olives, beans. Everything that you get at Taco Bell on the Nachos Supreme. That seemed like a delicious idea. I was all set to be impressed. Then our food came:

This was quite possibly the lamest plate of nachos I have ever seen. The sauce was barely dribbled on top and a side of pickled jalepenos? Please.

This is not totchoes by any stretch of the imagination. This is tots, with a tiny bit of cheese sauce on part of them.

The pork sliders with coleslaw were decent. Spicy and crunchy. And I should be happy about that and shut up because that's more than I can say about a lot of meals I've had there.

But still. I am bitter about this lame attempt at MexiTots. McMenamins, your totchoes are a failure.

*Note: Regular tots are $2 on the Happy Hour menu. These "totchoes" are $4. JOKE.

Andina Approved by Visiting Expert

2009-07-31T00:02:00.001-07:00

I had a delightful weekend with one of my college roommates from long ago, Julia (pronounced hoo-lia, so don't call her jooolia). We went to Live Wire! and I took her around Portland to eat delicious food, since that's one thing I like to think I know about in this town.

When Julia and I were living at BYU, we had a lot of fun. So much fun that our entire apartment got on academic probation one semester. Most of them smartened up and did well the rest of the time there. Me? Nah. I kept having fun. I got my degree later on in life. But anyway. Our fun did not consist of drunken parties and sexual escapades. No. Our fun consisted mostly of laughing and carbohydrates. We would stay up late baking. Cookies, scones, lemon curd, dinner rolls. Telling stories, eating, slathering the butter on whatever type of warm bread we had decided to make that night. Then we'd laugh and bake some more.

While I was baking in our tiny apartment, Julia made us this delicious Peruvian stew - her parents are from Peru - that was bright green and so pretty, with succulent chunks of meat and vegetables. So when Julia arrived in Portland, I knew I had to take her to Andina - beautiful, amazing Peruvian food.

We met up with her 22 year old nephew, Fuzzy, who was great company for both of us, with his laughter and stories and inquisitive eyes. He giggled at the menu. I was nervous because these two knew good Peruvian food and what if it didn't measure up? What if they didn't like it, after I had told them this was the best place to eat? Julia knew what all the dishes were, pretty quickly knew what she wanted. I ordered the chicken escebeche: Pisco-brined Draper Valley chicken, pan-roasted to order, and served "escabeche" style; with pickled onions, Botija olivse, quail eggs, cherry tomatoes and sweet potato served two ways: crispy quinoa croquettes and huacatay-cotija cheese gratin. Julia ordered the lomo saltados, Cascade Natural Beef tenders wok-fried with onions, tomatoes, oyster sauce, garlic, and ají, served with Yukon Gold "papas fritas" and garlic rice, and Fuzzy ordered the hongos saltados, which was a little different from Julia's dish, but I'm not quite sure what was different.

Really, I don't care what they are called. This food is damn beautiful. And delicious. Julia and Fuzzy approved. I felt like the other little kid who says, "Mikey likes it!" Julia declared Andina as a fine preparer of Peruvian food, with the exception that the potato appetizer we had could have been a bit spicier. We ate our food quietly, enjoying each bite - savoring the complex flavors. We left full and very satisfied.

After the year of college that I lived with Julia, I kind of lost touch with everyone. Every few years there were the random phone calls from someone, but largely, we had all moved on. I visited Julia once a few years ago, then we lost touch again. But this weekend, we reconnected. It's weird when you all grow up and become these adults with life experiences and tragedies and successes and romance and lost loves and loneliness and religion and politics and sadness and happiness. We were more alike than I remembered. And here we were, laughing over food once again.

We definitely got better with age.

How Live Wire! Helped Me Get A Boyfriend (I mean how it will get me a boyfriend or a date or a good time or whatever)

2009-07-25T09:25:00.000-07:00

Last night, I took my out of town guest to a Live Wire! taping at the Aladdin Theater. Every time I go to a Live Wire show, I am reminded how utterly incredible it is. The music, the interviews, the humor - it's entertainment at its best.

Live Wire also makes you smarter. Because I went to last night's show, I can now use the following pick-up lines at parties with attractive, intellectual men:

- Shawn Levy is of the opinion that it is not a tragedy that Paul Newman, the specimen that he was, was appreciated by more than one woman during his life. Incidentally, I'd like to appreciate you.

- Twitter is just another tool we use to interact with each other, and can sometimes enhance marketing strategies. I think you are a tool in my love life strategy. How can I use you?

- I saw this couple on Live Wire! They were on a date on stage on the show. They wrote haiku about the date. It was awkward. I don't think it would be awkward for us, though.

- I love the Captain Bogg and Salty band. They do shows for kids. Do you want to have some with me? Kids, I mean.

I know. You are probably ready to call me and ask me out, just from reading my pick-up lines. But stop. Before you do, head on over to Live Wire! and make a donation. They have a budget deficit this year and we need to keep this show on the radio no matter what it takes. Because these lines will get old and I will definitely need some new lines by next month.

Seriously. Do. It. Now. Also. It's sexy to donate.

The Holy Bagel

2009-07-25T08:42:00.000-07:00

The other day I went to a little coffee shop within a grocery store and ordered a toasted multi-grain bagel with cream cheese. It was an unfortunate experience. It had no taste. Okay, a little taste. Like a cardboard taste. Made me sad because I love a good bagel.

A few days later, I got the bagel craving again and remembered that Kettleman's is just a few blocks away. I stopped there on my way to work. The case is beautiful, with baskets full of shiny, flavor studded bagels. They are Kosher, which is good for those people... who need to eat Kosher or something. But also because I like to eat things that I think have been approved by some type of clergy. Probably because I don't really go to church anymore, so I'm stretching everyday experiences into religious experiences. You know, like watching movies about a church on Sunday is kind of like going to church and eating a kosher bagel is sort of like eating food that's been blessed by God, right? [Oh leave me alone. It can be churchy if I want it to be.]

I just want to say that eating the salt bagel with scallion cream cheese was a RELIGIOUS experience. And I would say that even if it wasn't Kosher because it made me say HOLY. HOLY. HOLY. It was. Just as a bagel should be. Chewy. Salt crunching. Just moist enough to latch onto the cream cheese, which had big chunks of sharp scallions in it. I ate it while I was driving and I swear I almost had to pull over.

I went back the next day and got the salt bagel with olive and pimento cream cheese. In the picture here. Beautiful, huh? If you are going to get bagels in Portland, Kettleman's is your place. Please don't buy them from the grocery store. It's offensive to the spirit.

Chow it down, Lady.

2009-07-24T09:45:00.000-07:00

The cafe on 14th and Glisan is colorful and bright. Chow, it's called. The lady in front of me ordered a breakfast sandwich in a hesitant voice. The animated counter girl was enthusiastic. "Would you like some biscuits for your dog? We make them here. They're really good." The lady behind the counter was excited about the biscuits. "I was making them all day. And they have bacon fat in them so my hands stunk really bad." I was standing there thinking, how does she know they are good. I pictured her tasting them.

Then it was my turn to order. I ordered the Egg and Tillamook Cheddar sandwich, with red onions and tomatoes and bacon. The order-taking girl behind the counter said the word "lady" probably 50 times. "What would you like, lady?" "I'll bring it right out to you, lady." "There you go, lady." It was amusing. She was bubbly and very smiley.

I took a seat outside, perused the Willamette Week and enjoyed the breeze. My food was ready in about 10 minutes. I lifted the top a little. No tomatoes or onions. Oh well. "I forgot the onions and tomatoes! I made it and I forgot to put the onions and tomatoes on. I'll be right back." Order-taking girl grabbed my plate and brought it back with the tomatoes and onions. It's nice to not have to bring errors up, when the restaurant takes care of it on their own.

When I order an egg sandwich, I always imagine that the egg part is fried. With a yolky, sunshine yellow yolk running over the sides. So I was a little disappointed when I saw a giant scrambled egg disk on the sandwich. It tasted good - fluffy, light. I understand why - it's easier to make a scrambled egg mixture and use that, instead of frying eggs. But there's nothing quite like a fried egg on a sandwich.

Everything on the sandwich was good. The tomatoes bright red, crispy bacon, pungent onions. The cheese had melted into the Bridgeport Bakery bun, so the taste was muted, but the bun was really chewy, warm and perfect.

I wanted there to be more seasoning. A sauce that made the sandwich special. Something. It was a good sandwich, but it was just the ingredients put together, nothing to pull it together. Something was missing. I wonder if they could make a sauce called Chow sauce. I would like that, I think. Like aioli with lemon and rosemary. Then the sandwich would be perfect.

"Thanks, lady!" I waved good-bye, full, but still wanting.

CHOW
505 NW 14th Avenue
Portland, OR 97209
503.274.CHOW (2469)
www.cafechow.com

Frieday Night Bliss. And Pickles.

2009-07-19T08:23:00.000-07:00

I have lots of friends. I think. But sometimes my favorite thing in the world is to chill out by myself. So that's what I did on Friday night.

I was walking along the sidewalk, laptop in tow, and stopped to look at the menu at Tapalaya. I have been there before and it was fabulous. As I was looking, the owner came out and offered me a housemade Cajun potato chip. Crunchy, spicy and perfectly seasoned, it lured me in.

I was there for happy hour, which means $2 fried pickles and $2 cornbread. And a bunch of other things. The waiter, long dark hair in a ponytail and a deep Southern accent was affectionate in his customer service. "All right, love, you want to hear the specials?" He rattled off a list of three things and after each one I was ready to interrupt him and say, "I'll take that." But I waited. Meatloaf was the last thing. "Pork and hanger steak through the grinder... green beans in the middle... puff pastry." I can't remember all the other things he mentioned that were in the meatloaf. Oh wait! Topped with a salad with bacon vinaigrette. Right. So no choice. I'll take the meatloaf.

Fried pickles, love. Cornbread, hun. And meatloaf, darlin'. The waiter was almost as good as the fried pickles. Which. By the way. Are better than any that I have had in Portland. And lest you think "Fried pickles? In Portland?" Yes, at least three places sell them. Probably more. And these are the best of the three.

I ate slowly, wanting to make it last a long time. I'm not sure if the pickles were housemade, but they tasted it. The thin sliced pickles were dipped in thick, peppery batter and then deep fried until golden and crispy. Served with a sweet tomato relish-y kind of sauce. I never would think that pickles would go with a sweet tomato relish, but served this way, they do.

Growing up, we always had moist cornbread, made with buttermilk and sugar. Here, the cornbread is a little drier and not sweet, which is good for the sweet butter that is served with the bread. The top of the cornbread is almost like poundcake - thick and crumbly and full of buttery flavor.

The meatloaf was packed with flavor into the puff pastry. The green beans in the middle tasted like they had been marinated - they had a vinegar-y bite. Refreshing with the subtlety of the pork and beef. The sweet tomato relish-y sauce was swirled on the plate and made a nice complete mouthful. The salad on top was dripping in bacon vinaigrette.

I was sad when it was over. Because I wanted to eat more fried things, more buttery things and hear more of that Southern accent.

Hey waiter, love, I'll be back.

These onions don't make me cry.

2009-07-18T13:24:00.000-07:00

Lunch with a friend I haven't seen in a while. Visions of Thai food swimming in my head. So many satisfactory choices for Thai, but want exceptional. End up at Red Onion.

Deep in conversation, I forget to notice details. We order pad thai and pad kee mao. Crunchy, gallantly spicy, but not arrogant. Fresh. Noodles with a bite.

Service is attentive and the restaurant, barely open a few weeks, is clean and shiny and smart looking.

I leave happy that it is only a few blocks from my house. Because I will go back often.

Granny Turns 100 and Rocks.

2009-07-17T20:19:00.001-07:00

My Grandma turned 100 this week. As we've done for the past 10 years, we had a big fat party for her. This year, it was in Eugene, at my aunt and uncle's house.

My favorite part of the party was when Michael Conley played his guitar and harmonica and sang. He ended with the song Rock Me Mama, there were only a few of us left listening and it was sweet. I wish he had played the whole time, because I could have listened to him for a few more hours.

I hope he makes it up to Portland sometime and I hope I hear about it when he does. Because I will be a fan and sit in the front row.

It's that time of year.

2009-07-17T19:03:00.000-07:00

I have a big family. It seemed like my mom was pregnant A LOT. Every time another kid was on the way, we would have a family meeting. "Well, it's that time of year," I remember my dad saying. "We are having another baby!" I don't know that he actually said that, but that is what I remember.

Similarly, I remember my dad standing in my doorway in a bodycast, saying goodnight after an accident had him in the emergency room for several hours. In reality, he only had a bandage on his head. But whatever. Memories are memories and I remember "that time of year" being associated with a new baby.

Until I moved to Portland ten years ago. Then my association changed. "That time of year" became associated with something much more sinister and fattening than a little baby. Yes. Walla Walla Onion Rings from Burgerville. Those seasonal, greasy, chunky bites of sweet onion, breaded and deep fried, fresh, just for me.

I think I have only missed one year of onion rings since I have lived here. I usually only have them once, or maybe twice a year. But no more than that. Too big, too messy, too fattening. But too delicious to miss. It seems like they have changed some over the years. At first the breading was thick and was easily pulled off the onion and they had a good garlicky ranch sauce that went with them. Now, the breading is thinner, adheres to the onions better and they serve an average Litehouse Ranch Dressing with them.

This year's were my favorite, though I'd wish they'd bring back the dressing they had a while ago.

I love Burgerville's seasonal menu. I have fond memories of walking my first half-marathon a few years ago, collapsing at the end and requiring oxygen (because I am weak), and having my dad buy me a fresh raspberry lemonade from Burgerville on the way home, as if I were a little kid getting a treat after getting made fun of in P.E.

So it's THAT time of year. Eat some onion rings, drink a smoothie or a shake, and then hold your breath till next year. (Not literally. We don't want anyone needing an oxygen mask.)

P.S. My mom just read this post and says that she wasn't actually pregnant every year. In case you were wondering. And we only have 5 kids, not fifteen, so we weren't like one of those reality show families. Just to clear that up.

Giveaway Winner

2009-07-15T07:30:00.001-07:00

Congrats to Daniel who won the drawing for the movie viewing tickets for Where God Left His Shoes this Thursday at the Memorial Coliseum. Daniel, please email me at elizabethfuss (at) msn (dot) com. Thanks!

Hey Lady

2009-07-12T23:58:00.000-07:00

One night last week, my plans fell through and I found myself up for some solo dining in the Pearl District. I walked by Piazza Italia and decided to give it a try. An Italian gentleman approached me in the doorway and held up one finger "Uno?" [Okay, disclaimer here. I know no Italian. Everything I heard, I heard in Spanish. So everything you read here is the victim of my interpretation.] I nodded my head. "Pregunta." He turned around and walked away towards some tables on the sidewalk.

I didn't know if I was supposed to follow him or not, so I just stood there. Then, an older Italian gentleman standing just outside the door motioned at me, "Hey Lady!" and he pointed towards the first guy, waiting at a table for me on the sidewalk. Snap, Crackle, Pop, I was seated, had a bread basket and a dish of olive oil and vinegar. It was remarkable - their organization and speed with which they serviced the tables.

My only complaint of the whole dinner was that the bread was dry - like it had been cut and then sat out for an hour or two before being placed on the tables. But it was good and dipped in the oil and vinegar, I didn't really care.

I ordered Gino's Favorite Linguini Squarciarella: prosciutto, egg, onions, parmigiano and black pepper (I think it was about $12.) It came out within about 10 minutes. While I was waiting, they refilled my olive oil. Did you read that? THEY REFILLED MY OLIVE OIL. Beautiful. The pasta was simple, fresh and delightfully laced with sharp parmigiano, salty proscuitto and a little spice with the black pepper.

I ate all of it. Then they took my plate. I was out of there in less than a half hour. Which was not my goal, really, but I didn't mind that their service was so practiced and down pat that they could serve me a nice dinner so quickly.

Impressive service, quality pasta and they refill your olive oil when you run out. Yeah, I'm thinking you should go.

Where God Left His Shoes (Giveaway!)

2009-07-10T21:58:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, I volunteered at a homeless shelter and spent the night there, sleeping on mats, just like everyone else. I was struck by how normal some of the people were. One lady, wearing a suit, could have worked in my office. Sure there were a few crazies, but for the most part, these were normal people in unfortunate circumstances. The line between me and them vanished as I realized that maybe the only difference between us was that I had family in the area that could help me if I was in a bad way.

This coming Thursday, the 16th at 6pm at the Memorial Coliseum, there is a private viewing of Where God Left His Shoes, a film about a family who experiences homelessness, starring John Leguizamo. The viewing and discussion benefits the Bridges to Housing organization and the NAHRO Regional Scholarship Fund.

We have a pair of tickets to give away for this viewing - a $30 value. Leave a comment and I'll draw a name on Tuesday night. If you wish to purchase tickets, please go to the Neighborhood Partnership Fund.

Returning to the Scene of the Affair

2009-07-09T23:03:00.000-07:00

Last year I went to Lincoln and had a slutty affair with a steak. I still think about it sometimes. I went back for Happy Hour a couple of weeks ago, to see if the feelings were still there.

The Lamb Poutine was subtle and rich, the gravy a thin dressing that soaked into the crispy fries and the cheese curds randomly melted throughout the heap of meat and potatoes.

Baked Eggs. In cream. With olives and breadcrumbs. With fresh bread sopping up the cream and the yolks, the olives punctuating the mild flavors with a little sharp, salty flavor.

Yes, I might still have a crush on Lincoln.

And then there was PIE

2009-07-09T00:01:00.000-07:00

Pie seems to be *it* these days. From Whiffies Fried Pies to the tomato pies at Savor Soup House, they really are all the rage. And I can't seem to get enough. So when I found out there was a pie shop opening mere blocks from my house, I could hardly wait.

The artwork that is being created on the walls at Stone Pie Joe's is interesting. Faces. Lots of faces. In 3-D and in paint. I don't like it so much. Yet. But it's not finished, so I'll give it some time. The women at the counter were still trying to get the hang of things. I think we visited them only on their second or third day open.

I bought a breakfast pie to take home and eat the next day on my way to work. The girl told me to be sure to heat it up in an oven, not a microwave. Sure - that makes sense. It made even more sense when I got my whole order.

I had ordered a mushroom, zucchini and cheese pie, along with a blueberry pie. The savory pies had a crust that was much more similar to bread than crust. It was like a bread bowl. It wasn't bad. Wasn't my favorite either. And even though it was heated up in their convection oven, it was textured like it was heated up in a microwave, chewy and hard to pull apart with my teeth. Though as it cooled, it got easier to eat.

The filling though, it rocked. It was just the right combination of vegetables and cheese and seasoned very well. The filling from the breakfast pie was great the next day - it was full of eggs and sausage and cheese and when I heated it up in my convection oven, it was crispy and fluffy, which I loved. I will definitely be buying pies to take with me to work, since it's so easy. Also, all the pies are $2.85, which is much less than I usually spend on breakfast-y type foods in the morning.

The sweet pies have a more typical crust but aren't overly sweet. I really enjoyed it. Keep an eye on Stone Pie Joe's. I think they will be cranking out some interesting stuff. Vegan and Vegetarian options are plenty. Also, they are open at 6 am, so SCORE!

Stone Pie Joe's
Between Lovejoy and Marshall on NW 23rd

Because I'm a Cool Aunt

2009-07-08T23:19:00.000-07:00

I took my nephew Joshua to the food carts tonight. The kid who earlier in the day threw away a Burgerville hamburger because it had ketchup on it, decided to try Jambalaya with crawfish from Bubba Bernie's and a raspberry pie from Whiffies. He wouldn't touch my spaghetti from Yarp, which didn't bother me, since I loved it and have no problem eating the whole thing myself.

Wi-Fi Makes it Better

2009-07-05T22:52:00.000-07:00

The internet went out at my apartment building yesterday. It was terrifying. For hours and hours, I didn't check my email, my Twitter or my Facebook, let alone catch up on the blogging I needed to do. I was extremely anxious. [insert dramatic music here]

I drove over to the Eastside around 1:00 this afternoon, hoping to grab a cheap lunch at a cafe whilst using their wifi. I ended up at Broadway Grill and Brewery. I've been to this place lots when it was a few other restaurants. It's really never been good. I wonder if the location has a curse on the food it produces.

The waitress seemed hesitant about the Wi-Fi. "Sometimes you can pick it up. I mean technically we have wi-fi. I just know that lots of people have trouble with it." Because I was hungry and desperate to see Inbox (548) that would certainly be waiting for me, I decided to risk it.

*Luckily* the wireless fired up quickly. Sadly, what I saw was Inbox (1) and it was something about how some natural enhancement would help me... oh you know.

So anyway, looked at the menu, which was filled with burgers and sandwiches and fried fish and fried chicken and fries and onion rings and all the other typical sports bar fare. Oh did I mention it was a sports bar? It is.

I ordered the Greek Salad and the onion rings. The salad, while it looked pretty all layered, was difficult to eat. Everything kept jumping out of the bowl as I tried to mix it up. The lettuce was that part of the lettuce head that you don't normally choose to eat. The light green part that in this case was bitter. No amount of the oily dressing could hide it. The feta, artichokes and olives were fine.

Onion rings were typical, though the buttermilk dressing they came with did actually taste homemade. But not with buttermilk. It tasted homemade with regular milk. Wasn't bad though.

Anyway, who cares. Because I got to blog and email and Facebook and Twitter. The food wasn't horrible. Wasn't great. Was meh. But did I tell you they had wi-fi?

P.S. I forgot to tell you that they play ALL 80's music. And not in a good way. I heard Paula Abdul and Su Su Sudio (how the hell do you spell that?) and it nearly ruined my appetite. And then I went back to Twitter and forgot about it.

Breakfast, Ears Ringing and Tastebuds Singing

2009-07-05T17:55:00.000-07:00

The thing about living in an apartment with no kitchen to speak of, is that I get to go out to eat a lot. And when I don't go out to eat, I don't eat. Which means I am hungry more often and when I am hungry, I feel skinny, and when I feel skinny, I feel sexy and confident. Good, right?

But the other thing that happens when I get hungry is I get a headache and frequently talk about the possibility of eating arms. As in, I'm so hungry I could eat my arm. You can get those Hannibal Lecter thoughts out of your silly little head.

This is exactly the state of mind I was in on Friday morning. I was HUNGRY and on the phone with my friend Jen. We needed to find breakfast and it was already 10ish. We headed to Genies on SE Division. I had been there before, a couple of years ago and remembered it being good.

There was a serious line of people waiting, Friday being a recognized holiday for most places and the weather being what it was. We put our names on the list and decided to plop our emaciated (I use that word loosely) bodies down on the benches and order drinks while we waited. I made two comments about eating my arm and then realized that people around me might not find that as funny as I thought it was. FINE.

After about 30 minutes or so, we were seated in the extremely boisterous dining room. Not sure if it was the acoustics, but it was so loud that we could not have a conversation. I don't even recall any music playing - I think it was all excited people happy to not be at work.

The waitress was one of only two I think, running a very efficient and quick service in the dining room. She expected us to have our order ready when she first came to our table. We knew what we wanted, so it was all good. I ordered the Tasso Eggs Benedict, with Cajun ham from Chop. Jen ordered a scramble of sorts.

One thing I really like about Genies' menu is that it has this statement on the top of it - something to the effect of: We serve you the food that we would make for our own families. We hope you enjoy it. I really love that, because it's not something I necessarily would have thought, with all the bustling around and the orders being cranked out as fast as they were.

I knew my food would be good. I was excited to try the Cajun ham. And in about 10 minutes time, it was in front of me. Spicy, tender - almost, ALMOST, tender enough to cut with the side of a fork. English muffin was toasted just so and the hollandaise sauce was just enough to pull it all together. I would have been okay with more hollandaise, but then again, I'm one of those people who thinks that commercial where the guy is eating a stick of butter is delightful. Anyhow, the eggs were cooked well, even a little more than easy, but still juicy enough to blend with the sauce and make a rich, spicy, mellow bite.

The potatoes were cooked well and seasoned just right - crispy on the outside, creamy on the inside - especially when dipped in the sauce/yolk. Jen enjoyed her scramble as well and let me have a bite of their housemade sausage, which was a mouthful of subtle spice and moist-to-the-point-of-almost-falling-apart-but-not-quite meat.

We finished rather quickly and we escaped the din of the dining room as fast as we could. Genies has fast, efficient, accurate service and really delicious, homemade food, as far away from yuck as you can get. And I think everyone is so excited about it, that they talk in their outside voices. Totally understandable.

A Study in Mediocrity: My Sister's Keeper

2009-06-25T22:20:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure how people come up with these ideas. These horrendous stories that they think people might like. I haven't read My Sister's Keeper. And I don't intend to. For the same reason I haven't read The Notebook or A Walk to Remember. It's not just that they are sad. It's like the author has to drag you through every possible sadness that could happen and then rubs it in your face. It's like when I make 10 pounds of mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving, when 5 pounds will clearly do.

Here's the story: The parents (Cameron Diaz and Jason Patric) have a daughter and a son. The daughter gets cancer. She's very sick and the only way she'll live is if they manufacture a child to match the cancer daughter exactly, so that the healthy child could donate bone marrow, blood, tissue, etc. to the sick child. So the parents do - they manufacture Abigail Breslin. Her character grows up and decides that she is tired of donating herself to her sister and she hires a lawyer (Alec Baldwin) to help her become medically emancipated from her parents.

So we already have a heavy-handed story - ripe for manipulating the audience into squishing out a few tears, or a lot of tears, depending on your sensitivity. You pretty much know the outcome of the movie from the start and anytime the subject of a movie is a dying child, well, it kind of ruins any hope of enjoying your Friday night.

Then we get the cast: Cameron Diaz as the mother. Okay. So you can't see my pinky finger from where you are, but if you look at it real close, you'll see that it has more of a motherly instinct that Cameron Diaz. She is not believable for even two minutes as a mother. She exudes no compassion, no love, no sensitivity. I don't know why - it's just her.

Then we have Jason Patric, whose performance was not noticeably good or bad, he just was. Alec Baldwin, was painful to watch in his performance as the attorney. The script was poorly written, the lines predictable and lazy. One scene in particular made me cringe, when Abigail Breslin yells at her dad in an argument: "What about me dad? What about me?" I'm pretty sure I wrote that line into a civil war romance story I wrote when I was 12.

It was rather like watching a bad high school play - the acting was THAT good. It's not even worth the tears that you will probably cry because you will have had to pay $10.50 to watch Cameron Diaz try to be a mother, which she utterly fails at. She's pushing and pushing and pushing, but no baby/child/performance ever comes out, just air and a lot of dumb show. (Please note that I have chosen pictures which showcase her trying to act. It's noticeable, even in the stills.)

See it? Only if you like overly sentimental stories playacted by people masquerading as actors.

Opens everywhere Friday, June 26th. (That's tomorrow, in case you are buying your tickets in advance.)

The Restaurant Formerly Known as Fancy.

2009-06-21T21:37:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, I had a little time to kill. And. I was hungry. It was 11:30 and I walked outside. I remembered that 23 Hoyt (of sparkling water fame) began serving lunch last week. I had also heard that their prices are lower now in an effort to boost business. Oh let's try it, I thought. Lunch won't be as expensive as dinner.

I started out sitting at a table on the sidewalk, because it seemed that it would be nice. Then it started sprinkling, so I moved myself and my very tall diet coke back inside. I ordered the burger with onion rings instead of fries.

Mmm. The burger was cooked medium rare as it should be. The bun was a little large - I couldn't fit my mouth around both the top and the bottom. But the burger - it was perfectly seasoned. And the cheese was mellow, but with a subtle bite.

The tomatoes and arugula were served on the side. And what I loved about those is that they were seasoned. That NEVER happens with burgers, though it totally should. Dressed with olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic, they actually added flavor to the sandwich - a fresh contrast to the meat.

Though the bun was problematic, I found my way around it. I ate the burger concentrating on the bottom bun and the meat, then half way through, flipped it over and at the rest of the burger on the top bun. I couldn't finish the whole thing, but I made a valiant effort. My hands were a drippy, saucy mess by the end of my meal. My napkin stained with burger juice, aioli (which I had smeared on the burger because why not!) and tomato juice. As I recalled my first experience at 23 Hoyt, there's no way I would have eaten a burger then, because juicy hands and stained napkins were definitely not a theme on the menu.

The sweet chili aioli served with the crispy and well-cooked onion rings was spicy and creamy. You know how when you get bad onion rings and you take a bite and this huge piece of crunchy onion comes out? This is not how these were. It was clearly an onion ring inside the breading, but it was fully cooked and my teeth cut through it, making it both easier to eat and easier to dip into the sauce.

I loved my burger. And it was I think $9. Which was totally worth it for the quality of burger I got. The staff was cheerful and helpful. The waitress gave a strong recommendation for Away We Go, which I was on my way to go see. She was right. So good. So was the restaurant. I'm happy to see they've toned the Hoyt-y toity-ness down. This was a much better experience than my first and I'll definitely be back to try their new dinner.

Sweet as Pie

2009-06-21T09:50:00.001-07:00

So much has already been written and said about Whiffies Fried Pies since they opened. Delicious, crusty, addictive.

I have really nothing more to add. I've had the beef brisket with mozzarella, the breakfast pie, the apple and the coconut cream. The first bite is all crust. Which is not a bad thing. The crust is flaky and a little chewy when it gets closer to the filling.

The first time I had the beef brisket, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was tangy and spicy and the stretch of the mozzarella was long and mellow. It took over my thoughts. I had it for dinner and then all night, after I got home, I wanted more. I was watching a movie and kept thinking about it. That maybe I should go back and get one more. But it would have meant losing my parking space. So I had to forego the second pie.

Since then, I've had more. Many more. And each one just as good as the last. My favorite is the coconut cream pie. Creamy and untouched by the effects of frying, the sweetness is understated and perfect.

I love cream pies and I never eat them. Or at least I haven't until recently. Now they are so close and so available that I'm pretty sure they will become a regular part of my life. Word has it that a chocolate cream pie is coming.

I've yet to try the berry ones, but that's next on my list. The pies are so portable, so easy to eat, that it makes it less of a sin. If Whiffies started selling these to the local stores, I would buy piles of them to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner, probably every day.

And that's how I feel about Whiffies Fried Pies.

Whiffies Fried Pies (cart)
SE 12th and Hawthorne
Tuesday - Saturday, 8pm - 3am

Pops and Me Around Town

2009-06-20T22:35:00.000-07:00

I learned good food from my mom. Fresh, gourmet, homemade. I learned junk food from my dad. Chewy white bread, soda pop, processed cheese. Somehow both worlds combined and here I am: a lover of the gourmet, a fan of Velveeta.

Dad had been saying lately how he wanted to find a good hot dog. So I proposed that we take a tour of Portland, trying different hot dogs and comparing them. He reluctantly agreed, not happy that I was going to take his picture and blog about him. But I convinced him.

My dad is kind of a tough guy. He likes to hike a lot. And really when I say hike a lot, I mean crazy hike. Mostly with my brother. The two of them hiked the Appalachian Trail about 10 years ago, from Georgia to Maine, hiking like 25 miles a day, and in the first half, my dad unknowingly had Lyme Disease while they were trekking.

That's a story for another day, but anyway, he's a tough guy, who in recent years has gotten all health-foody. He's not above a day of gluttony every once in a while, though, as long as it doesn't make him sick. I was a little worried that the Hot Dog Extravaganza was going to make BOTH of us sick, but we went for it, throwing caution to the wind in our risky venture. (At least we weren't trying ALL the hot dog places!)

We started out at Zach's Shack. I got the Chicago Style, with a pickle, tomatoes and peppers. Dad got New York Style, with chili, cheese and onions. The dogs here do snap, just as they say. And the flavors of the pickle + tomatoes + peppers were fresh and spicy. Dad liked his, too and immediately said he was up for another one. Good thing. Because next we headed to Nick's Coney Island.

At Nick's Coney Island, there was really only one choice. The Coney. The waitress said it would be like nothing I've ever had before. Like chili, without beans. "Just the con carne," she said. "But way better." Okay, bring it on. My dad had fries with his and I had chips.

The coney sauce was meaty, but like the meat had been cooked so long in the sauce that it WAS the sauce. It was a little spicy and very thick. The hot dog wasn't as good as Zach's Shack (it didn't snap), but I think the sauce was better than Zach's.

We were so full after the Coney dogs. But we'd said that we were going to go to three places, so we kept trekking and headed to SuperDog. (I get my endurance from my dad.) (That was a joke. I hate hiking. But I will endure a hot dog tour of the city with no problem.) My dad wanted to try a different kind of sausage, so we ended up getting just one, to go: a chicken sausage with grilled onions.

We took it back to my parents' house and opened it. Just the sight of it made us want to gag, just because we were so full! So I feel like I can't really give a good review of how it compared because well, we couldn't eat it. My mom ate part of it and my sister, and they seemed to like it okay.

Maybe it should have been a three week tour of Portland Hot Dogs, with one place each Saturday, but it was fun and neither of us actually got sick, so that's a plus. I got to hang out with my pops and that's really what I wanted, more than any hot dog.

Happy Fathers Day!

(P.S. I unofficially declared Zach's Shack the winner, but both Zach's and Nick's were very good and when I want a chili dog, I'll go to Nick's. Anything else, Zach's.)

I Am Pro-Hug: The Proposal

2009-06-16T22:15:00.000-07:00

I was all set to write a bad review. Sandra Bullock. Rom-com. Ho-hum. But here's the thing: I had a really, really, really bad day. Horrible. Like someone died. Or I had to interact with Satan or something. Or maybe both. (I am not really exaggerating.) And when I sat down in the theater, I did deep breaths while my friend Rachelle was getting me a drink. I had to do deep breaths because I was kind of a mess.

Then the movie started. I really actually liked it from the first scene with the trees. Then Ryan Reynolds came on, the clutzy assistant with the bitchy boss. Did Sandra Bullock take some acting classes or something? She was almost good. I mean I kind of believed her uptightness. My disbelief was suspended. I know. WEIRD.

Then the story unwound and oh it seemed familiar. Then I remembered. It was part of my Christmas-time-stuck-in-the-house-because-of-the-snowstorm-Lifetime-television-marathon. This girl, a writer, gets deported to Canada because she doesn't fill out her paperwork in time. Except in this movie, The Proposal, Sandra Bullock is a publisher who almost gets deported to Canada because she doesn't fill out her paperwork in time. So naturally, the whole time, I was doing a side-by-side comparison of the two artful films.

Just kidding. Once I realized it was the same, I promptly forgot about it because the Lifetime Movie was total crap and The Proposal was actually good. For one thing, it had a great cast: Mary Steenburgen, Craig T. Nelson, Betty White and Oscar Nunez (Oscar from The Office). Betty White (as the grandmother) and Oscar Nunez nearly stole the show. I totally forgot how funny Betty White is. And Oscar Nunez was HILARIOUS as the town stripper/caterer/sales associate/pastor.

You know what happens: Sandra and Ryan decide to get married to keep her from getting deported. They hate each other at first, but then, when they go to Alaska to visit his family and announce their engagement, things take a different turn.

I actually cried a few times, in addition to laughing. It might have been residual emotion from my day, but when Sandra's eyes filled with tears, my heart hurt a little. But even more, when Ryan Reynolds and Craig T. Nelson (as his father) fought with intensity and with underlying pain, it was totally real. At least it seemed totally real.

Okay, there might be one scene that might have been taken nearly word-for-word from While You Were Sleeping, but that movie was so long ago that a little repeat is no biggie, right? I could overlook it, in light of the recent display of handsomeness next to the girl-next-door.

Also. There were lots of great hugs in the movie. First Ryan, then Sandra, then Ryan again. They were so good, that I could almost feel the hugs myself. They weren't like regular hugs, they were rubbing arms and shoulders until all the hurt goes away hugs and you're cold because you just fell in the water so I'm going to hug you until you get warm hugs. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I was probably imagining it because I had a bad day. But seriously. A movie that give you hugs? You really can't beat that.

And because of all of this, I am banking on a good night of hugging dreams to get me through until tomorrow.

Go see it, especially if you had a bad day.
The Proposal is rated PG-13 and opens Friday everywhere.
You can watch the trailer here.

As the Title Says: Lovely By Surprise

2009-06-14T21:02:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while a film comes along that is pretty. Aesthetically pleasant to observe - not just the actors, but the colors, the set, the music. Not just a film, an experience. That is: Lovely By Surprise.

Carrie Preston plays Marian, a writer, who is trying to write about two brothers who are aware that she is writing about them. Her former teacher and mentor (Austin Pendleton) tells her that it's not going to work. She needs to kill the protagonist, he says. It's the best thing a writer can do. Marian reacts emotionally - she cannot kill him! But she begins to think about it, sending her down a road that she is trying to avoid.

Meanwhile, Bob (Reg Rogers) is a very bad car salesman. He talks his customers out of buying cars, in fact. How's your family, he asks the customer. Do you appreciate them? Do you love them? Go home and love them. It's funny, but also sad. He clearly has something weighing heavily on his mind. Maybe his daughter, who he forgets to pick up from school and who doesn't speak at all. Maybe his absent wife, still in his heart. Subtely and deftly portrayed, Bob requests the sympathy of the audience, and gets it easily, despite his poor parenting skills and seeming lack of common sense.

Humkin and Mopekey, Marian's characters in her novel, live on a boat on land. Clad only in briefs, they survive on milk and cereal and nuggets of knowledge somehow received from the world around them. Their relationship, humorous at first, turns sinister and dangerous as the story develops.

The storylines blend together seamlessly, artfully weaving in and out. The colors of the costume design are bright and bold, punctuating the scenes with richness. I think I can say, without any reservation, that you could take a still from any scene in this movie and frame it as artwork.

The music is lyrical and frolics along in the background, providing levity in the sometimes sad story. I really enjoyed the amped up version of "Wound By A Key" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, a somewhat surprising part of the soundtrack, but one that delighted me.

When the storylines all collide together at the end, it's beautiful and meaningful and sad and happy and not expected. Funny at times, tragic at others, Lovely By Surprise is, quite, lovely by surprise.

Lovely By Surprise is opening at the Firehouse Theater in Kingston, Washington on June 19th. It will be released on July 7th on DVD and will be available through Netflix. You can also request it at your local video store.

Watch the trailer here.