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Chains, They Are a Changing

Wendy's table

I wasn’t crazy about Patch.com at first—does Brooklyn need more neighborhood-centric obsession?—but I’ve come to love its hyperlocal approach, particularly for towns that wouldn’t otherwise be blogged about. (The Carroll Gardens crime blotter is also fun and is fond of using the word creeps–who knew a woman was knocked to the ground but not robbed on my corner? Also, I'm always shocked at the amount of cash people are carrying when they are mugged. Is it normal to have hundreds of dollars on your person?) Like Woodbridge, NJ where I find myself more often than one might imagine. It’s the epicenter of chains in their natural environment. If you drive (and you’ll need a car) ten miles in any direction, you will find just about every restaurant you’ve ever been deprived of in NYC. An embarassment of riches.

For some unfathomable reason, Woodbridge has not had an Olive Garden. This will soon be rectified, but more importantly the Woodbridge Mall will also be receiving the lesser known Darden brand, Bahama Breeze. Thankfully, Patch has photos of the construction process. I will so be there for the October opening and the mall’s 40th anniversary celebration.

Meanwhile, Wendy’s is getting a makeover and has built a new prototype that includes a lounge area with a fireplace, open kitchen (no chef’s table?) and a Wi-Fi area. And I was so looking forward to a retro re-introduction of those tabletops with the olde-tymey newspaper design.

Do not think that chain revamps don’t play a role in decision-making. Since I get a four-day weekend this Labor Day I have been scheming potential destinations. After a quick skim of the NYT’s travel section, my eyes popped out when I saw the recent, “36 Hours in Bar Harbor, Maine.” I know nothing about the coastal town other than that it was the inspiration for Red Lobster’s new style. Now I feel the need to compare the original with the interpretation. A nine-plus-hour drive, though, it’s probably not happening.

Photo credit: Lorence's Kitchen

Chain Links: America Does Not Yet Run on Dunkin’

Dunkin coffee

Similar to how some Americans cite the arrival of a Thai restaurant to indicate gentrification (I don’t fully agree with this) you know you’re on your way up when your country gets a KFC. Nairobi’s middle class is growing and Galito’s had better watch its back.

All we hear about is drug violence, but that doesn't mean there is no place for Red Lobster, Olive Garden and The Capital Grille in Mexico. Darden's SVP of business development said, "With its growing middle class and strong affinity for American brands, Mexico is an attractive growth market for Darden."

I’m mildly embarrassed that I didn’t know Nestle Toll House Café even existed until I saw one in the flesh at Woodbridge Mall (apparently, I'm stuck in the Famous Amos, Mrs. Fields era). The Middle East is savvier than I and Kuwait will be welcoming one. Dubai already had a branch.

If you live in the Northeast, you might be under the impression that Dunkin’ Donuts dominates everywhere. Not so in Europe where the only presence is in Russia, Germany and Spain (where it’s just Dunkin’ Coffee since rosquilla is used to describe a fried, frosted ring of dough). This will change if Dunkin’ Donuts has its way.

Dunkin’ Donuts also has problems in its own country, and it wants to win over those west of the Mississippi. We had them when I was a youngster, but they’ve since disappeared from the Northwest. (I might be one of the only defenders of The Killing, but when they made a reference to Dunkin’ Donuts I cringed.) Everyone is so indie on the West Coast (not true) that the company will likely have to market to lower income folks who are too poor and/or uneducated to give a shit about coffee varietals and artisanal breakfast pastries (those who abhor chains might enjoy the maple bars, a regional specialty I never knew was regional, at Coco in Portland—it was only one block from my hotel so I could not resist).

And What About P’Zones?

Cheesecake-Chimichanga Everyone’s getting back to basics. McDonald’s has expunged McFalafel from its Israel locations and Olive Garden is shying away from “culinary forward” dishes like pear and Gorgonzola salads and concoctions like the made-up-sounding pastachetti that was giving me pause earlier this year. There is no such Italian thing. Same goes for soffatellli.

I assumed rollatini and rollata were also Olive Garden inventions, but it turns out there’s nothing non-traditional…about the words, at least. Lasagna Rollata al Forno is purely R&D-derived.

I’m only surprised that chains don’t invent authentic-seeming-to-English-speakers dishes more often. The only other example I can think of off-hand is Taco Bell’s enchirito. There must be more. Anyone?

Items like chimichangas that have been widely adopted as real don't count.

¡Dairy Queen® para toda ocasión!

Dq proposal
Last week a gentleman dressed like Cookie Monster, or rather El Monstruo ComeGalletas, proposed to his girlfriend in a Dairy Queen somewhere in Mexico.

As usual, the most important part of the story has been omitted. Was the ring hidden in something edible or not? They do sell Chips Ahoy ice cream sandwiches, after all.

Photo: Dairy Queen (en español) on Facebook

Lers Ros

Oh, thank god Lers Ros was all that it was cracked up to be. I realize NYC isn’t necessarily the United States’ Thai hot bed (that would be LA, wouldn’t it?) but I still have developed standards and am always cautious when I hear raves in other cities lacking a strong Thai presence. I’m still stinging (sorry, I’m a grudge-holder) over my disappointing meal in Chicago and that was a year-and-a-half ago.

Lers ros facade

I didn’t fall for any of the exotica beyond boar, which isn’t that wild really (the wildest thing I encountered that night was someone pants halfway down, propped up on scaffolding, poised to take a dump onto the sidewalk—I didn’t really get what all the Tenderloin hubbub was about until that moment). Alligator just seems gimmicky unless you’re in New Orleans and even then you wonder if you’re just being a tourist for giving in. Frog, venison and rabbit will have to wait for another visit.

Lers ros wild boar

Said boar. I appreciated that they didn’t shy away from offering such a tough, cartilaginous cut of meat. Serious masticating was necessary, though it was likeable in a similar way that pigs’ ears and beef tendons are. Hit with green peppercorns, chiles and sharp strips of krachai, this was a punchy dish.

Lers ros duck larb

I’ve never had duck larb, but it makes sense. The poultry is in small chunks rather than a mince, which is nice because you don’t lose the contrast between the flesh and the skin. The spice level wasn’t disappointing, either.

Lers ros pork belly

I can never resist crispy pork with basil and chiles—it’s one of my Sripraphai standards—and these generously cut chicharrón-esque cubes did the trick.

Lers Ros * 730 Larkin St., San Francisco, CA

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.