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Posts by krista

The Dream of the ’90s

I hope to get around to writing more about the food—it was uniformly good, from food truck porchetta, pigeon crudo to a copy cat Mugaritz dish—I encountered in Portland. In the meantime, here are some photos and non-surprising surface observations from someone who hasn’t lived in the city for 13 years.

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People move incredibly slow. You will miss the lightrail waiting for a free ticket machine even though the doors are left open for what feels like five minutes. You will not make it off the lightrail and to the corner in any reasonable amount of time because everyone shuffles in a big zombie mass (you would think sports sandals would make one zippier) and you can’t break free without being rude. I want to say that I was never this slow, but I do recall the first time I visited NYC in ’94 that the subway doors seemed to open and shut in a split second and I was hyper-concerned about not getting smashed in them. 

If you don’t smile and talk a lot when making transactions or even say hi to strangers on the street (WTF? I know I never did that) you also seem rude. An NYC friend who visited Portland the week before I did, said she felt compelled to buy things she didn’t necessarily want in stores because of this. I did not.

Strangers make long, sustained eye contact, i.e. stare. You are not my lover and I don’t even abide that from people I know. This occurred on the street, in restaurants and on public transportation. I wanted to shout “What do you want?!” I guess you’re supposed to say hi?

A normal response to “I’ll have a coffee/donut/cocktail” will be “cool.” I have been known to respond similarly, probably inappropriately in business situations, but I am not in the service industry.

No one can merge onto the freeway (I can’t either and it’s the reason why I flunked my second driving test). The concept of speeding up to squeeze in does not exist.

Everyone under 35 really does have elaborate tattoos. I often feel self-conscious in NYC with two fairly small ones.

90% of families will be wearing sport sandals and cargo shorts or demin shorts. Gussied up with a polo when it’s warm or polar fleece when it’s cool, this is perfectly acceptable apparel for fine dining. Women will also be breastfeeding at upscale restaurants, but that’s probably no different from Brooklyn.

If you make a reservation after 8:15pm, it is very likely you will end up being the last party left in the restaurant.

Straight women have man hair. I like short hair on women. This is not that.

Cocktail Hour in Portland

There has never been a shortage of bars—or drinkers—in Portland, but I wonder if there are enough falernum and verjus lovers to sustain all the non-stop newcomers. The not-quite-week I was in town, more than a handful had either just opened or were about to. I did my best to survey the modern Portland drinking scene.

Nearly all of my ‘90s haunts: My Father’s Place, Holman’s, Space Room Lounge, Dot’s (r.i.p. original Hung Far Low) are still in operation; it’s not as if the new Portland has subsumed the old. But this was not a nostalgia mission. I’m doing my Gen X best to steer clear of that emotion.

Rum club decor

Rum Club is a newcomer from the Beaker and Flask (which was the new bar on my last visit in 2009) folks and based on the opening week menu, did not appear to focus exclusively on sugar cane spirits.

More delicately ‘50s than tiki, I loved the wood paneling, predominantly black, hummingbird patterned wallpaper and ornate vintage glasses. I also loved $8 price tag. There is something to be said for being able to buy two well crafted cocktails with only a $20 bill in your wallet. It makes the whole experience more pleasurable than precious. It’s also great for fancy drink drunks. It’s tough getting trashed on $13 Pimm’s cups.

Rum club cocktails2

The Quarterdeck Cocktail (Black Seal Rum, sweet sherry, blended scotch, orange bitters) and The Rum Club Daiquiri (Bacardi 8 Aged Rum, lime, sugar, Maraschino, Angostura bitters, absinthe). The SOSAP (tequila, grapefruit, Lime, Peychaud bitters, salted rim) was the prettiest pink thing I’ve ever sipped and more tart and bracing than a margarita.

Bent Brick is really more of a restaurant, but the bar has a good number of seats and there was plenty of space on the Tuesday evening I went. Beyond being affordable—cocktails were $8 here, too—non-crowding is another benefit of Portland. I’m not sure if I just picked off times and nights, but this was far preferable to a few night’s before in San Francisco where it could take 20 minutes to get a bartender’s attention at a popular place like Bar Agricole.

Bent brick cocktails

The Stranger (bourbon, sarsaparilla, verjus, angelica) was my favorite, like an herbal whisky sour. Rise to the Occasion (apple brandy, bourbon, vermouth, black tea, bitters) was a stiff little brown drink. Beginning of the End (rye, strawberry shrub, rainier cherry, pecan) sounded the tastiest and turned out to be the oddest. I’m not wild about the whole drinking vinegar thing (I did not go there at Pok Pok) so I’m wondering if it was the shrub that gave it a twist or if the pecans were doing something unusual. I kept getting a dirt/stale bread undercurrent. I’m not saying that was displeasing, necessarily.

Bent brick mussels

I was impressed by the $4 plate of mussels because this was the closest thing I’ve encountered to pintxos since San Sebastián. (Er, does that sound pretentious? I got called a snob the other night for saying that I don't like it when people pronounce tapas with a hard A, so can't tell any more. I still don't think being a grammar/pronunciation sticker makes one a snob.) Not only were they creatively plated and priced right for a snack, a lot of thought had gone into the preparation. Each mussel sat atop seemingly aerated smoked aioli made with the bivalves’ liquid and were garnished with Tabasco mignonette, creating a perfect bite.

Dig a pony quad

I can’t really say much about Dig a Pony because it was still two days from opening when I showed up to the meet a friend who had suggested it. We did get some whiskey shots and I got a few photos. I doubt it will be this empty again.

Instead, we moved onto Belmont Avenue and another new bar, Sweet Hereafter, an offshoot of Bye & Bye where I’ve never been so that didn’t mean anything to me. My Portland life generally centered around Southeast (though I also lived in NW and NE) and so too the people I know who still live there—I just can’t get into the whole Alberta, N. Mississippi thing (my excursion to Pine State Biscuits in that quadrant was cloyingly Carroll Gardens-esque). I took no photos because it seemed like a bar, bar, a vegan bar, apparently. They did have cocktails, with bitters, I’m sure, but I continued with bourbon on the rocks.

Driftwood Room. This naturally retro bar was probably the one part of the Mallory Hotel’s 2006 transformation into the Hotel deLuxe that needed the least overhauling. And at five-years-old it’s not new, but to me is. I was last there two visits ago in 2004 while my dad was in the hospital (he did not leave). My sister and I ended up drinking past the last light rail and couldn’t get back to my mom’s in Beaverton. We ended up on MLK thinking that Denny’s was still 24 hours (it’s not—where is Shari’s when you need it?) and ultimately had to flag down a cab. Portland is not friendly to last callers.

Driftwood room elizabeth taylor Since I was staying at Hotel deLuxe, I had to stop in for a happy hour drink. It was packed, very dim and was scented with truffle oil (truffle fries being a bar food standard now). I couldn’t even gauge how much revamping had transpired. Most importantly, many of their champagne drinks were only $6. The Elizabeth Taylor was the obvious choice; I will always take an opportunity gaze at a crème de violette cocktail. Too bad the mood lighting wasn’t so great for capturing the lavender bubbly.

And I just missed the opening of Portland’s Trader Vic’s and didn’t make it to Kask, Gruner’s next door offshoot, even though it was only a few blocks from the hotel. I always walked past before it was open. If I wait another two years (I suspect it will be longer—I can only take small doses over long periods of time) I will have completely lost track and be so elderly that I’ll give up and return to my decrepit old faves.

Rum Club * Sandy Blvd., Portland, OR

The Bent Brick * 1639 NW Marshall St., Portland, OR

Dig a Pony 736 SE Grand St., Portland, OR

Sweet Hereafter * 3326 SE Belmont St., Portland, OR

Driftwood Room * 729 SW 15th Ave., Portland, OR

Canned Cheese, Pedo-Chinese & Inoffensive Japanese

Wis-con

The day after I paid a visit to my favorite, non-NYC semi-supermarket, Grocery Outlet, fka Canned Food Outlet, an online walk-thru appeared on The Laughing Squid. Yet the only item I found in common was the Wis-Con nacho cheese.

Sadly, the Eugene location near my sister’s house wasn’t even half-way hideous. It was actually kind of pleasant and full of useful things. They had real Willamette Valley wine, organic snacks and hair products, Starbucks ice cream bars…and fresh meat, which they reminded you of on signs inside and out as well as over the intercom. I wasn’t in the market for fresh meat. None of the crap I remember from my younger years trolling the aisles of the Tigard location was to found. Who can top ninety-nine-cent chocolate-flavored wine, though?

Grocer outlet ground meat

There is a fondness for ground meat in tubes. Not the advertised fresh meat, I presume.

Far man sign

We had to drive to neighboring Springfield to fuel my desires for the darker side of suburbia. After reading the haunting Yelp reviews for Gateway Mall (seriously, I’ve wanted to go ever since stumbling on them in April) I knew that I not only had to see its faded glory for myself, but that I needed to eat somewhere nearby.

Far man facade

Far Man, a.k.a. Pedo-Chinese it was. I knew this was the spot the second I typed in the CAPTCHA that granted me access to the filtered review about the former owner’s underage prostitution ring.

Far man vacuum A quiet vacuum made a nice tableside sculpture. Its noise, however, might’ve been preferable to the half-man half-grizzly outbursts blasting from the saloon doors separating the dining room from the dark bar filled with more patrons than the restaurant. The voice, akin to that sound of burping out the alphabet but more menacing, appeared to be in response to something on the Discovery Channel. James gathered this intel from peeking into the murky abyss that still felt smoky despite the mandated lack of cigarettes. Normally, it wouldn’t take much to convince me to grab a cheap beer in the middle of the day but he couldn’t talk me into crossing that imaginary line between sane and not-so-much. The staff seemed jumpy and cowed. I wasn’t taking my chances.

Far man lunch
Instead, I solaced myself with the cheap and fried. Thursday’s $4.25 special was (and is every week) sweet and sour pork and a shrimp eggroll that’s really filled with celery mush. Minus the sunshine yellow egg drop soup included with most combos, the food is crunchy, greasy, beige broken up by neon red rivers of corn starch thickened sauce and a sprinkle of sesame seeds. You’ll never finish the whole plate, and you probably shouldn’t. Our waiter brought over styrofoam takeout containers mid-way through the meal, umprompted. American Chinese at its finest.

Cabela's gateway mall

The best part of the Gateway Mall (which houses two movie theaters—one with $1.50 tickets!) was not the newish Cabela’s that I was not allowed to go into because some coworker of my sister’s also works there and she didn’t want to see him (there is a lot of this avoiding people thing in Eugene. My issue was more with the strangers saying hi on the streets and involving you in conversations about time travel unbidden). It was the Ross. It’s always the Ross. My sister and I both found the exact same $6.99 polyester rainbow swirl wrap dress in each of our sizes that we thought would be amazing to wear to a rare family bbq the following night. A trip to the dressing room quelled that fantasy, however. It is no bargain if you look like a crazy lady in a bathrobe.

Hometown buffet
I almost wish we had held out for Hometown Buffet. I haven't eaten at one since 2001 in Reading, PA. Once per decade is probably a good guideline.

Nascar sports pub

I’m not sure if it’s more socially acceptable to grab a drink at Far Man or the mall’s Nascar bar in the middle of the afternoon.

Gateway mall empty stores

There are a lot of empty storefronts.

Tree of life

There are also havens for Christians.

Crafter's alley
And crafters.

Dragon vine

As per the comment left by a DragonVine employee on my original speculative Gateway Mall post, "Steampunk is only a wee fraction of what we have."

Epris
Epris? Never heard of it. Same for Bello and maurices, two other mystery retailers. This felt very Chinese (not Far Man Chinese). The malls I encountered in Shanghai and Beijing looked so American but so many store names were completely new to me. My favorite was Valued Squirrel.

Having fun at gateway mall

Now that I am a year older, and maybe more maturely than prematurely gray, I may have to adopt the older women having a blast look featured on one of the boarded up shops.

Meiji 2

Meji 1

You do not have to eat sub gum chow mein or even aggressively vegetarian while in Eugene (I was scared of the ‘70s avocado and sprouts on everything legacy). After a stop for a few pints at the Ninkasi Brewery, I shared perfectly nice small servings (not calling them tapas) of Japanese-ish food at Izakaya Meji, across the street. Not only do they stay open until 1am (late night dining was problematic even in more bustling Portland) they do classic cocktails, which is not exactly an overdone trend in these parts. An Aviation for $6? It almost made up for the disappointment of the distressingly normal Grocery Outlet.

 

Chain Links: Blizzards and Ice Storms

Dairyfairy

Russia is ideal for American fast food. People earn less than in the US, but customers are willing to pay more. A Papa John’s pizza that would cost $14 the US, sells for $21.62 in Moscow. Buffalo chicken, complete with Tabasco, blue cheese and celery has been a best-selling topping.

You can get beer delivered with your Russian Papa John’s, but Starbucks is not making any concessions for regional vices. Smoking is not allowed in their Russian coffee shops, a rarity for the country.

By now we’ve all heard about the fake Apple stores in China, but it doesn’t stop there. Dairy Fairy, which serves an Ice Storm instead of a Blizzard, bears a striking resemblance to Dairy Queen. According to the Wall Street Journal, at least. I don't think it's quite as uncanny as the Ikea copycat.

The real DQ will open in Guatemala in October.

Photo credit: Melissa Powers/Wall Street Journal

Beating the Heat

I don't know that anyone would notice one way or the other, but I am in San Francisco (well, was over the weekend) and Portland this week and will be back to posting some time soon.

So far: Bar Agricole, Benu, Bar Tartine, Lers Ros, Oakland taco trucks, Flora and Le Pigeon.

Coming up: Pok Pok, Char Burger, Paley's Place, Castagna, Tasty n Sons…and more.

Who knows if I'll write about it all.

Better Than Lobster Rolls

Yellow lobster

Wow, a yellow lobster just showed up at Wegmans, my favorite East Coast suburban grocery store (I know you didn’t ask).

Bluee

Impressive, but I still prefer the blue one recently caught off the coast of Prince Edward Island.

I am holding out for a green specimen…because it's my favorite color (who cares if no one's asking).

Previously on blue lobsters.

Photos: Wegmans Pittsford, Karen George

Sa Aming Nayon

Now Jeepney. At least it's still Filipino, right? Gastropub or not. I walked past the opening last night and was tempted to pop in. (10/12/12)

Curiously, Sa Aming Nayon appeared in that patch of First Avenue near 14th Street that periodically sprouts and snuffs out Filipino restaurants back in June. Yet their name has been popping up in the past week in food media. Well, just Time Out New York and Tasting Table. Why now?

Who cares, all you need to know is that if you have even the vaguest interest in Filipino food—and you should—this home-style restaurant is worth a visit. Then again, I’m a big booster of Filipino cuisine. It’s an unknown compared to more popular Thai or Vietnamese, and those who encounter the style, reliant on vinegar and other bitter flavors, often write off the entire country’s repertoire. Some think it’s too funky; others find it boiled and bland.

Sa aming nayon lechon kawali

While lamb and goat battle for it meat recognition, pork is still the favorite protein of discerning gluttons everywhere. And no one does pork like a Pinoy. It’s a great introduction. The next best thing to experiencing the bounty of the whole beast, a.k.a. lechon, is sampling the fatty parts encased in crackly skin. This typically means crispy pata, a deep-fried ham hock or lechon kawali, pork belly given the same burnished-in-oil treatment.

Chicharrón is often eaten as is, but lechon kawali needs its sauce. I panicked for a second when it didn’t show up. “The sauce is coming,” I was promised before I could say a thing. Then I could hear the woman who appeared to be an owner yelling into the kitchen for “the sauce.” What if they were out of sauce? I’ve heard of women carrying Tabasco or ranch dressing in their purses. I wonder what they would’ve thought if I pulled a bottle of Mama Sita’s out of my bag.

I have no idea how you would come up with the idea of combining liver, sugar, vinegar and bread crumbs (thrifty, sure) to make a dip for fried pork, but the thick, sweet and savory result that’s more sludgy than saucy, transforms the meaty chunks into something even better. It’s instant umami.

Sa aming nayon pinakbet

Pinakbet combines a slew of vegetables like squash, tomatoes, bitter melon, eggplant and green beans with more pork to create a vegetable stew. Read more about this dish on the new Real Cheap Eats NYC (not so much because I’m plug-crazy but because I don’t want to repeat myself).

Sa aming nayon adobo

Classic soy-and-vinegar braised adobo is an obvious choice (they were out of sisig, which is what I really wanted) but I like that they served a version with both pork and chicken. The meat becomes so stained from the soy that you can barely tell which meat you’re getting until you take a bite. Adobo roulette.

I’d like to go back for the halo-halo. Icy Asian desserts, like snow cones covered in gelatinous goo, often seem odd out of context, but this heat wave is tailor made for tropical sweets, purple yam jam, pandan jelly and all.

Sa Aming Nayon * 201 First Ave., New York, NY

What Does Your Favorite Tapa Say About You?

Mini-burgers I couldn’t help but click into the press release, “Complimentary Breakfast and In-Room Coffee Service Sway Consumers' Hotel Selection, Says Technomic” because I wanted to see how I fit in with the surveyed consumers. You know, in a what your favorite movie dad says about you way (partial to Ghost Dad, myself).

The nicer the hotel, the less likely it will be that they provide an in-room coffee maker and I like my crappy, watery cup before heading out into the world for a real coffee and am too cheap to order room service. But going down to Holiday Express level just causes heartache because there’s no way in hell I’m going to wake up between 6am and 9m to take advantage of free scrambled eggs, bacon and rolls. That is not a perk.

I lost all concentration on the results of this study, though, when I saw “Bar lounges and lobbies are expanding their menus and offering more tapas-style foods to promote the lobby as a casual, social-gathering place.”

Tapas-style foods?! What does that even mean? I’m heading to San Francisco tomorrow and if I don’t see any goat cheese-stuffed meatballs in the lobby of Parc 55, my Priceline blind bid result, there is going to be hell to pay. (No in-room coffee maker, so it must be classy). Oh, the in-house restaurant, which may or may not be anywhere near the lobby appears to serve “bar bites” including potstickers, sliders and empanadas. American tapas, if I’ve ever seen them. Thankfully, they didn’t use the T word.

Palate/palette abuse is a fact of life—caring only causes pain—instead, tapas patrolling might be where it’s at.

When is a tapa not a tapa? Likely, if it involves marinara and melted mozzarella or is simply a mini-burger or tiny serving of babyback ribs. Is it Spanish? If no, then you must call it a small plate or give it some other vague nomenclature. I would not recommend appeteaser.

Photo credit: The Hip Hostess

Real Cheap Eats

Cheap eats means different things to different people. Some might call a shared $25 pizza cheap while others would consider a $20+ pie outrageous, no matter the pedigree. (I know, because a semi-old-timer Carroll Gardens resident told me she couldn’t believe neighborhood restaurants were charging $25 when she can get a pizza for $12.) But it’s pretty fair to say that less than $10 per dish constitutes cheap.

The $10 rule was applied to the new Real Cheap Eats, an online guide spearheaded by James Boo of The Eaten Path and created by a group of NYC-based food bloggers (including myself) to promote truly affordable dishes, many in less publicized locales. Yes, there is food beyond Manhattan and the northwestern corner of Brooklyn (and room for more to be added to the guide in the future).

Which reminds me that I need to spend more time exploring Staten Island. I pass through the underdog borough on my way to New Jersey at least once a month. There’s Italian, obviously, but they also have German and Sri Lankan restaurants, as well as a growing Mexican community.

Regional Food Representing

Toast box kaya toast
You would think that photos of the same dish, even from the same restaurant, would all blur together. Yet, I usually recognize mine when I see them (I easily spotted my bacon maple bar while scrolling through rss feeds). When poking around MyCityCuisine, a new wiki collecting dishes from all over the world, I immediately stumbled upon a familiar kaya toast pic. Of course, I went straight to Singapore first.

I’ve been on a big Filipino food kick lately so I went to the Manila page and learned about champorado, which I thought was only a Mexican thing.

It’s a useful site and should get better the more that people contribute. If anything, the US section could use some beefing up. There are only ten cities listed so far and Madison, Wisconsin is kicking the rest of the country’s ass with all sorts of regional oddities. Booyah? I would add something for Portland, Oregon, but all I can think of is jo jo potatoes.