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Alias

You can't blame me for not remembering the finer details of my food, it was
New Year's Eve, after all. The amounts of alcohol that precede, accompany
and follow special occasion meals can seriously affect my recall ability.
There was a prix fixe menu from which I selected a sunchoke soup with apple
and bacon, a main of steak (I don't even remember the cut) with a blue
cheese sauce and a molten chocolate cake that was without choice. I have
nothing bad to say about the dining experience, but enough with the molten
cakes, already.


Alias * 76 Clinton St.,
New York, NY

Save a Prayer

Young People's Prayers by Percy R. Hayward may have been published in 1945, but it speaks to me still, despite my not being all that young anymore. But hey, with today's bratty, self-absorbed society, ideals intended for teens half a century ago probably still haven't sunk in with the twentysomethings and beyond of present day. Sure they're funny, but damn if they're not relevant to the sinners, complainers and obsessors of the world like me.

This book is so out-of-control specific, there are prayers for nearly all of life's quandries such as "I Have Lost My Job," "Save Me from Hating People," "On the Coming of Vacation" and "Save Me from 'The Blues.'" The following were written with me specifically in mind, I swear:

Forgive Me for Time Lost
Save Me from Whispering
Save Me from Over-Attention to Myself
Keep Me from Futile Bypaths

Steady Thou My Temper

Forgive Me for Time Lost

God of the ages, I come unto thee in penitence for the time that I have lost.

Timelost For the hours spent in aimless talk on small things while the high themes of the universe had to wait.

For the messages of lesser value that I take unto myself from the press and the radio and the screen.

For the time that I waste because it is not planned, or is planned for a shortened purpose.

For my selection of music and pictures and friends that fall short of the best.

For my unwise choice of books.

For my idle thoughts that regard not the things that are lovely and of good report.

For these, my Lord, I come in penitence to thee.

Through my resolute creating of a new plan for a wise use of time, grant me an awareness of thy forgiveness for time lost. Amen.


Save Me from Whispering

Grant unto me, my Lord, the courage and the wisdom to leave unsaid the things that I can only whisper.Whispering

Hold back my lips from uttering things so vicious or mischievous that they could not be proclaimed upon the housetops.

Save my heart from thoughts that can be uttered only behind the hand.

Touch me with such understanding of other people's struggles and virtues that I shall never say anything about them in a corner.

Spare me, O Lord, the atmosphere of critisism and suspicion that is finally overcast with the shadows of secrecy.

And grant me this boon of the spirit through my joyous concern about things so varied and so great that there can be no room in my heart for gossip. By the vasteness of thy world, let my mind be cleansed.

In the name of One who knew what was in the heart of man. Amen.


Save Me from Over-Attention to Myself

Overattention Save me, my Lord, from petty and foolish tinkering with myself.

Allow me to let myself go in some cause, some purpose greater than my own small self.

Spare me the weakening sickness of self-love.

Purge me, O God, of too much concern about what is going to happen to me.

Grant me the cleansing grace of being able to lose myself in absorbing and joyous work.

Turn the mirrors of my self-contemplation into windows opening upon the wide vistas of they world.

Save me from being a fuss-budget about small slights and petty personal offenses. Make me too great to bear a grudge, too interested in large things to harp constantly upon what is trivial, too wisely and humbly sure of myself to take offense.

Thus, teach me the meaning of the ancient wisdom that only he who is willing to lose his life in interests larger than himself can find and nurture his true self. His name. Amen.


Keep Me from Futile Bypaths

Lord, keep me from straying into the futile and foolish bypaths of life.Blues

Hold me back when I would pursue the will-o'-the wisp of surface fame.

Stay my feet when they would wander into the alluring ways of comfort and ease.

Steady my vision and nerve my will, O God, when I look down the bypath of sensual pleasure and would choose it as my own.

Grant that I may not wander on the winding trails that go with bitterness of spirit, maliciousness of mind, and cruel sharpness of speech.

Save me from the purposeless paths of giddy and foolish pleasures.

Keep me back from the devious byways of prejudice and jealousy, of paralyzing envy and foolish spite.

Thus wilt though hold me from the futile byroads of prejudice and jealousy, of paralyzing envy and foolish spite.

Thus wilt thou hold me from the futile byroads that daily beckon me away from the single pathway of thy purpose.

In the name of Him who in the hour of his temptation resolutely spurned each byway of life. Amen.


Steady Thou My Temper

Temper God of all peaceful and patient minds, I come unto thee with this my prayer that thou wilt steady my temper.

Calm thou the hot impulses of my heart.

Ease the fever of my blood and the uncertainty of my nerves and muscles.

Grant me the patience of the long look and of the careful plan.

Show me where my anger is rooted in my indolence or short-sightedness.

Vouchsafe unto me the wisdom to plan my life according to they holy laws of physical strength and soundness, wherein are found peace and courage and self-control.

Lift me, O God, out of my selfish absorbtion in my own small daily concerns. Show me the kingdoms of they world–the needs of the poor, the sufferings of mankind, the uncompleted temples in the city of thy will being builded in the hearts of men.

Thus make me too great for my petty anger.

In the name of Him who though reviled, reviled not in return. Amen.

Mesa Grill

1/2

"Everybody likes Bobby Flay" goes some annoying guy in an annoying Food TV
commercial. That is a flat-out lie, but I have no beefs with Bobby's
restaurant. I'm not so into the '80s Southwestern, bold flavors thing, but
the brunch is surprisingly good (I go nuts because it seems like our friends
go to the same brunch place, Teddy's, a block from their apartments every
single freaking weekend. Why do I care? It just annoys me when people won't
venture beyond the place on their corner. Or maybe I'm just jealous because
I've never had a place on my corner).

The woman at the neighboring table was surprisingly non-good. The bread
basket filled with baked goodies and jalepeno jelly, chicken sweet potato
hash with poached eggs and chile hollandaise and home fries was almost
ruined by listening to some twat (sorry, I've been addicted to that word
lately) go on and on about weddings, her expense account and her brand new
$500 boots (which unfortunately I couldn't see, as she was too close). She
committed ten million food faux pas. She asked about the burger. She ordered
a salad. Her friend ordered the exact salad. You don't order salads and
burgers at restaurants that do other things better (both her and the
level-headed friend shamelessly ogled our food, not without surprise) and
you don't order the same thing as your dining partner unless it's like a bbq
place or chicken shack, you know, a place known for their one thing. She
didn't know what tomatillos were, but made it seem like this was the
waiter's problem, not hers. This is the kind of woman who abuses customer
service, returns things after wearing them and is mean to "the help." When
the waiter innocently asked, "how is everything" she matter-of-factly
replied, "I'm bored," as if it was his job to play court jester.

My mouth was happy, my eyes and ears were in hell. I think it's the Food
TV curse. Demanding people who care very little about food and lots about
dining out. God help me the day I dine at an Emeril venture.


Mesa Grill * 102 Fifth Ave.,
New York, NY

Legin

It's all about the taro-shrimp "cookies." This fried dim sum novelty seems
to be exclusive to Portland, and may be one of the city's few redeeming
foodstuffs.


Legin * 8001 SE Division St., Portland, OR

Silver Palace

Do words like sub gum, chop suey and combination plate #2 give you the
heebie jeebies? Then you'd do well to steer clear of Tigard. They do their
Chinese vintage, red vinyl booth, cocktail lounge in back, hamburgers on the
American menu style. When your dad brags about a great Chinese restaurant
where he and the rest of the Lions Club meet bi-monthly, and complains about
General Tso chicken being too spicy, you'd better know what you're in for.
You're in for a shitload of food for five bucks: egg drop soup in that
abnormally yellow (from dye? extra yolk?) style with corn thrown in for good
measure, fried rice, mar far chicken (battered, chicken strips served with
that near extinct little dish with 70% ketchup, 15% hot mustard and 15%
sesame seeds) and kung pao three ways with beef, chicken, shrimp and
scallops (yes, that's more than three ways).
The ominous fortune spooked me slightly, "Do not be intimidated by the
eloquence of others." I don't like to think that I am. It prompted my dad to
talk about how can fit in any social situation, "It's common sense. if you
to a black-tie affair you wear a suit jacket." Plain and simple. Strange,
because I'd just been given Paul Fussel's humorously scathing "Class" to
read and it had filled my mind with all sorts of ideas about social strata,
middle class aspirations and proletariat ideals. My genes are so prole they
hurt. Middle class would totally stress over impressing at an event, which
is ridiculous in its own way. Proles just go with the flow because as they
say ignorance is bliss. (11/29/02)


Silver Palace * 1455 SW Pacific Hwy., Tigard, OR

Noble Rot

Small plates, small plates. I guess this is the rage in Portland. Wine and
small plates. The endive, beet and blue cheese salad and squash and goat
cheese panini Todd and I shared just seemed like food. The Beaujolais
Nouveau we were advised against (everyone's so down on the damn stuff we
felt it was our duty to not only try it, but like it) seemed like wine. The
place was very amenable, though odd, being just a block from the seedy bar I
used to frequent with alarming regularity when I lived in the neighborhood.
The times are a changing. It's the kind of place know-nothing, out of touch
youth might refer to as "yuppie," as if Portland is so gritty, bohemian and
downscale otherwise. Please, this isn't the '80s.


"http://www.noblerotpdx.com/"> * 2724 SE
Ankeny, Portland, OR

Shalimar

Not the old lady perfume (which I actually own) or the funky band (which I don’t). It’s Oregon’s, and quite possibly the world’s, freakiest Indian restaurant. Smack dab in the middle of nowheresville, this suburban raja’s palace gives one pause.

I’d never heard of Orenco Station till that very morning when I was skimming “Oregonian” ads and saw some whole foods store called New Seasons in a place called Orenco Station in Hillsboro. Moving out of Oregon four and a half years ago, I’d missed the boom years and subsequent housing developments in former outskirts now made accessible by new light rail lines.

Many factors played in this dining choice. The main one being my friend Todd’s curiosity after reading a review in “The Willamette Week” (disgustingly called “Willie Week” by a former coworker) coupled with my creepy fascination with sterile suburbs. Plus, it was minutes from my mom’s mobile home where I was staying. It played into my fantasy of visiting Portland without ever actually stepping foot in the city, as well as Todd’s of riding MAX to a planned community for dinner.

We made plans to meet up that evening at Orenco Station. The “community” is beyond bizarre. I think the original idea was to re-create a small-town, main street atmosphere with housing for various income levels, complete with dining, shopping, parks and a town square. Idyllic, no? Well, there is one main street, the one pictured on the webpage. And that’s it. There is a Kitchen Kaboodle, Starbucks, the aforementioned New Seasons, an Italian restaurant and Shalimar, all above pricey “hip kitchen lofts” that lord only knows who lives in. Identical ’40s-style “cottages” flank a long grassy
strip of land beyond the shopping area.

At 8pm the entire area was desolate. We feared getting beat up by merely standing in the gazebo after dark, and joked about being pegged for young lovers and subsequently harassed (he’s 40+ and gay). Such solitude breeds suspicion. Benches abound. No one would ever dare sit on them, though. The half-mile or so between the development and the train station is filled with driveways that end in grass and more aimless benches scattered throughout the sidewalks yet to used for foot traffic. There are no homes, just empty lots. Who on earth lives here?

Oh, but the food. The food is fine. Not remarkable, but better than to be expected in such a setting. Someone went wild with the menu descriptions. An Afghani lamb dish is inspired by “outlandish, free spirited farmers.” All right, they were talking to us!

Back to the neighborhood. As it turns out, the money ran out. All the empty space is not waiting to be filled, but at a perpetual stand still. The nearby tech jobs have dried up and the area is now a once affluent ghost town. So much for 1998’s “America’s Community of the Year.” God bless the Northwest. They try. If I were an eccentric billionaire I’d snatch up a place in Orenco Station just for shits and giggles.


Shalimar* 1340 Orenco Station, Hillsboro, OR

Blue Smoke

Some moderately clever reviewer could craft some line about Blue Smoke and
mirrors, since most BBQ aficionados don't believe this latest Danny Meyer
creation is all that it's beefed up to be. I'm no bbq aficionado. Heck, I
enjoy Dallas BBQ. I've never been to the Carolinas, Texas, Kansas City or
Kentucky. I've lived in one city in the NW and one city in the NE. What I'm
saying is that Blue Smoke made a perfectly acceptable Saturday night
excursion because what you don't know won't kill you.


BlueSmoke * 116 E. 27th St., New
York, NY

White Kat, Big Kat

So, I hear there are White Kit Kats floating around NYC. Supposedly, they’re at Duane Reade, but I haven’t seen them. Duane Reade does have the limited edition dark chocolate Kit Kat, but who cares — that’s too classy. White chocolate is all cheap and gauche, just like me. And why is there no American Kit Kat site? I see British and Japanese (damn them, they have strawberry, banana and Hello Kitty varieties No white, though). I think it’s because Hershey’s sucks, and Kit Kats are made by Nestle elsewhere. Oh shit, but look at this. A Hershey’s mega store opening in Times Square holiday season 2002. Isn’t that right now?

Maybe I should just hold on to my horses. England had the Big Kat first, then we got it, so maybe we’ll eventually get the white chocolate and orange varieties too (they can keep their mint version). It’s just like the dulce de leche M&Ms. New York’s always the last to know when it comes to mainstream confections.

Also heard, but not seen is the rainbow Pepperidge Farm’s Goldfish. I’m starting to think I imagined seeing an ad somewhere.

Five Points

This started as a brunch suggestion for James to take his parents (not with
me in tow) while they were in town. I didn't know what I was talking about
from experience, I just read it off Citysearch.
They ended up going somewhere in Westchester, but the following weekend
James randomly made reservations for the two of us, which was sort of
baffling since we don't normally do the Sunday brunch thing, let alone at
swank-ish places.

I wasn't complaining. They seem to be all about their wood-burning oven
(jeez, who isn't these days?) so it only seemed right to order fancy eggs
benedict with smoked salmon on brioche, cooked in the contraption. Very
nice. And while opting-out of a morning cocktail (too much wine at Les
Halles the night before), I was impressed that they made Ramos Gin Fizzes by
the pitcher.


Five Points * Great Jones St., New York, NY