5th Quadrant (3901-B N. Williams)

When I was a kid, I used to love to celebrate things. The last day of school. The first day of school. The end of tax season (my dad is an accountant). A new movie coming out on video. Getting a B on a test. The reasons could be ridiculous to some people, but I loved any reason to make a lot of good food, blow up some balloons and have a little party, even if it was just my family and me.

This past week I found myself wanting to celebrate a couple of things in my life - nothing very significant - but I was just so happy at the time that I could not contain myself. I sent out an emergency email to my friends titled I have to celebrate. BINGO. Two of my faithful friends said they would join me - and they didn't even know what we were celebrating.

So I drove out to North Portland to the 5th Quadrant - the new New Old Lompoc - and met my friends for my celebratory dinner. "Do you want a beer menu?" The waitress asked us. Uh oh. "No thanks." Stare. "Well do you want to order any beer?" "No thanks." Stare. "But it's $2 Tuesday!" I think she was frustrated with our non-alcoholic choices for drinks. It was at this point that I thought it would really be handy to have a little tented plastic card that I could set up at the end of the table that said "I am a recovering alcoholic." [I am not a recovering alcoholic. In case you were wondering.]

We did order food. Since that's why we were there. I (still on my salad diet) had the 5th Quadrant Salad with roasted beets, hazelnuts and gorgonzola cheese tossed in an orange vinaigrette with mixed greens. It was pretty tasty. I splurged and got grilled chicken on it [In what sick world is grilled chicken a splurge? Oh yeah. Mine.] Jason got the chicken stuffed with bacon, lemon zest and rosemary and Rich got the Cider Brined Pork Chop with sautéed apples and a cider cream sauce. Wow they looked really good. [I'm speaking about the entrees, but my friends are no slouches, either. They looked at least as good as the chicken and the pork. I think I'll stop there.]

When I looked at these pictures, it made me hungry. And I remember that they smelled so much better than my beet salad. Salads just don't smell as homey as warm potato-y dinners with gravy. Although I did get full from my beet salad - and it was good.

And guess what? I am already ready to celebrate again. This is my 100th post! Jiminy Christmas! Can you believe it? And also. I just bought a plane ticket to San Francisco for a trip in September. That I had only been thinking about but wasn't really serious about, even just earlier tonight. And then boom. I did it. And I decided that it is going to be a trip where I am wild since I have never been there. Go ahead and eat some good food for me and blow up a balloon or two, since we are all out in cyberspace. I will feel your celebration vibes.

All pictures courtesy of Rich Wipf! Thanks!

Enlightening Conclusions

Tonight I wrapped up the last things to do for my Write Around Portland workshop that concluded last week. I worked with a group of Veterans, including those with PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) from the Vietnam, Korea and Iraq wars. They were funny, inspiring, challenging, rowdy, supportive, caring and amazing people. Each one of them contributed so much to the group with their encouragement of each other, with their stories and with their passion for writing.

I wish I could convey the strength and the power that these workshops evoke. But through my words alone, that is impossible. You have to be there. You have to hear them read. It will change you.

My friends I think get tired of me talking about Write Around Portland, but I can't help it. I believe in it as I believe in good parenting, God and good food. I get so excited that my words pile up on each other and fall into jumbled sentences. But that just means that every bit of my heart is bursting because of my passion for this cause.

One of the many cool aspects of the program is that after the writing workshop, we compile the participants' writing in an anthology (see picture above) and we publish it. Then we have a public reading, where the newly published writers read from the new anthology. Every participant has at least one piece published. How cool is that.

Lucky for you there is a reading coming up! My Veterans will be reading, too, so I hope you can come! Here are the details:

Thursday, August 30th, 6:30 - 8:30pm
First Congregational Church, 1126 SW Park at Madison in the downtown South Park Blocks

Free and open to the public. Everyone is welcome!
ADA-accessible.
Light snacks and drinks will be provided.
Anthologies will be available for purchase, $12 each.
We will be collecting donations of new writing journals for our upcoming workshops, and financial donations are also welcome.

Don't worry - I'll post a reminder about the reading when it gets closer, just so you don't forget!

Portland is American Eden

In this month's Travel and Leisure Magazine, Portland was called American Eden. I never really thought of it like that. But now that they mention it, it does sound nice. It's funny that they have to make comparisons like: "Northwest 23rd Street, the local equivalent of Rodeo Drive" and "the West Hills, the Portland equivalent of Beverly Hills". Mostly because I don't think of anything in Portland as the equivalent of Rodeo Drive or Beverly Hills. But okay.

The article sings the praises of our environmentally friendly city, discussing the music scene, the bookstore scene, the food scene and the general people-are-friendly-to-strangers kind of attitude. The author uses phrases like "Leave-it-to-Beaver charm", "dreamy" and "thoughtful".

I did learn about a couple of things that I now want to check out: Alma Chocolate that specializes "in organic, fair-trade chocolate molded into religious icons" and " ...and the Black Rose Collective Bookstore & Community Resource Center in the North Mississippi section of town, a fantastic power-to-the-people commune-thrift operation (everything in the shop is free) with an anarchist bent: 'Not one yuppie vehicle should be safe....'"

This article also made me remember that I want to read Chuck Palahniuk's books and listen to the Dandy Warhols more. No one will ever be able to convince me that Portland is NOT the greatest city that is not New York. It simply rocks.

Nonna Emilia Ristorante (17210 SW Shaw, Aloha)

A group of my friends and I went to dinner a couple of weeks ago at Nonna Emilia. And, well, it was pretty bad. The waitress was not pleasant to deal with. She emphasized that she could not split the check. (Totally fine.) Then she said we all had to order at the exact same time (we were still waiting for people to show up) because even a 5 or 10 minute difference would mean that the food would all come out at different times. She was cranky.

I had a grilled chicken breast and salad. The chicken was dry and almost inedible. The salad was from a bag. My sister ordered spaghetti, which she said tasted like Ragu. Plus they served ginormous (I can say that because it's actually in the dictionary now!) portions. Each person had enough to eat for two or three meals. What a waste.

They did have an accordion player wandering around. I wanted to sing along. I really did. But he was in the other room every time he played a song that I knew. So it would have been more like me performing for my table and well, I just didn't want to jeopardize those friendships.

If Nonna Emilia was running against The Olive Garden in a presidential election, The Olive Garden would beat Nonna Emilia. But that's not to say that the country wouldn't suffer from tremendous indigestion. Either way, you're going to be sick.

Zupan's (7221 SW Macadam)

For a little over three years now, the nearest grocery store to my house has been Zupan's Market. I love Zupan's. Why? Let me tell you:

When I walk into a Zupan's - particularly the one on Macadam - I feel like I am Ina Garten, with all the money in the world, picking out the perfect food for my cooking show where I will make a lovely lunch for my husband Jeffrey who is coming home tonight.

Everything is new and shiny - even the grocery carts and the employees! Every person that works there is a foodie - they know their stuff. And they always look freshly showered, sometimes with their hair still damp and smelling of shampoo.

The butcher will offer his opinion when asked about the gloriously marbled red meat in his case. And just last week he ground up turkey for me - right in front of me. I know I can trust them to have the best - of everything.

I walk along the aisles, picking out olives and boccocini from the antipasto bar, lusting after the peppadew peppers and the marinated mushrooms. I pick up two or three kinds of bread from Grand Central or The Portland French Bakery because I simply can't decide which one I want more.

They have heavy cream in glass bottles that looks SO good. So much more attractive than those purple cartons. And the produce. The produce looks like a photo spread in a magazine at all times. The roma tomatoes are shiny and begging me to take them into my hands for salsa. The samples of tangy pineapple and juicy oranges are too much to resist.

Then there's the cheese. Any kind of cheese you can imagine. Millions. Brie. Asiago. Parmesan. Halloumi. Feta. Gorgonzola. And at least 5 or six variations on each. I simply have to try a new one. The crackers - not Ritz or Wheat Thins, though they have those, too - I can't remember the brand - are Parmesan, Black Pepper, tasty fragile bits of wheat flavored with herbs and cheese. Once you taste these, ordinary crackers will taste like cardboard forever.

Oh and I haven't even started talking about the desserts yet. Joseph's Bakery makes a really good white chocolate carrot cake that I can't talk about because I haven't had one in so long that I might start crying if I try to remember what it tastes like. They also have Papa Haydn's and Le Provence desserts in their stunning dessert case.

Here's the problem with pretending I am Ina Garten, even for a few minutes: I am not Ina Garten. I do not have my own cooking show. I do not have a husband to cook for. I do not have oodles of money that I have made from a catering company and I do not live in the Hamptons. I do not cook for a living. So when I walk out of Zupan's after only a couple of minutes of pretending, with two grocery bags costing over $100, I really can't justify it. Especially since I will most likely be the only one eating the food. Which will probably not last me more than two or three meals.

Shopping at Zupan's is a euphoric experience, even if it is expensive. I shudder at the thought of Fred Meyer or Safeway (where I once bought moldy olives from the olive bar!), though I buck up and save money when I need to. But if I can splurge, I go to Zupan's. The beauty of food really shines there and somehow that always makes me smile, rub my hands together and propel my imagination forward to fabulous dinner parties, cooking shows, restaurants and cooking for my own family. Sometimes that few minutes of imagination - of doing what I really love - is worth it.

All photos from Zupans.com.

Studio Blue (512 NW 17th)

I took a pilates class tonight. You might think - so what? Plenty. That's what. When I walked in, I didn't look like the other people there. They were all sticks and bendy already before the class even started. But I have this freakish new found confidence over the past couple of weeks and somehow I didn't care. Dan, who helped me fill out my paperwork, said don't worry, Angela knows what she is doing - she's also a contortionist. (!)

Angela was great and made mention (maybe just for me) that there was no need to look at how other people were doing it because everyone is different. She even suggested closing your eyes. I would have, except I might have fallen over. Especially when she said, "...and now reach back and grab your foot." Uh huh. Don't think so. I was actually surprised at how much I could do. I was pleased that it wasn't so difficult that someone with NO pilates experience or yoga experience or pretty much any exercise experience at all besides walking could actually do most of the things (poses? positions? I don't know what you call them!) to some degree.

I can feel my muscles burning or something as I write this and I know they are preparing for extreme soreness and I'm not entirely sure that I'll be able to move tomorrow. Anyway, what I was going to tell you is that Studio Blue is great. The class was small and Dan and Angela were super nice. I can't go back because I work too far away to make it work on a regular basis, but you should go. Besides, you get your first week of unlimited pilates classes for free. So you have nothing to lose. Oh. And also, it's right by Saint Cupcake. Not that that matters. Or that you would ever think of going there after working out so hard. I was just saying.

Laughing Planet (922 NW 21st Ave.)

The Aztec Burrito is what I had. With pinto beans (why am I obsessed with pinto beans? I eat them almost every day, with onions, with tomatoes, with cumin, with garlic. Maybe it's the fiber that's got me addicted), brown rice, cactus and bunches of other nice vegetarian things. It was messy and the tortilla was warm and chewy and soaking up all of the nice juices from the beans and vegetables. As I got down towards the bottom, the burrito fell apart in my hands, like me in a hysterical crying fit. It crumbled to my plate.

That was a sign, I told myself, that I was done eating. I was wearing a white t-shirt and had not yet spilled. Just one more bite, I thought. Before I knew it, one bitter little pinto bean had left a mark. As if he was saying - you don't think you're going to get away with eating the whole burrito do you? Not without anyone knowing. No, everyone you pass on the street is going to know that you ate the whole Laughing Planet burrito, just from looking at your chest. And then the damn bean jumped to the ground. I hope someone swept him up and threw him away. Or better yet, stepped on him and crushed him.

But seriously, Laughing Planet has great food and is filled with nice looking men who all are pleasantly unshaven, wearing plaid shirts and knee-length shorts. So if you find yourself in the mood for a burrito or an unshaven man, you should definitely check out Laughing Planet on NW 21st. Because they have what you need.