We ate at Mother's tonight and I have to say, their food is slipping. The underlying flavors, combinations and presentation were all still great, but what is with all the salt? Roast chicken shouldn't taste alternately salty and bland. If I managed to get two or three "bland" bites in a row, my sense of taste returned and it was really delicious. But then I'd get a salty bite, zotz my tastebuds and taste nothing again. Additionally, their cauliflower cheese was pretty awful. I don't know what cheese they were using... It was white but it wasn't white cheddar, swiss, fontina, provalone, parmesan, gruyere, havarti... at least not that I could discern. It wasn't good, that's what's important. But the underlying ability was there: the califlower was perfectly cooked, tender without being limp, crisp without being raw. The chicken was moist and juicy, the skin just crisp without being fried. But in the end, I just ended up feeling totally bloated, tired and over-full.
Dad didn't like his pot roast. I thought it was okay, but whoever did the sauce had a heavy hand with the wine. If that's not what you're expecting, then it's no good. It was also very salty, although Dad disagreed. We might have a different perspective on salt, though. I believe in lightly seasoning each layer of food as I'm cooking - just enough to bring out the flavor, but not enough to be noticable. Most salted food should have a savory flavor, not a strongly salty flavor. If I roast a chicken, I want you to be able to taste chicken, lemon, thyme, rosemary, onion, garlic... But I don't want you to think, "Is a pint of water really going to be enough? Why doesn't she bring that carafe over here so I can drink straight from it."
The worst part is that I'm a chicken shit. When the chef (or one of the cooks - I didn't notice an appellation on her white jacket) came to the table to ask how everything was, I just smiled and said, "Oh, great!" I really like the ambiance, the introductory rolls and breads are delicious, the staff are great... (In particular, our waiter was super.) I just don't have it in me to be honest and risk making everyone uncomfortable by lodging a complaint when everyone's had such a nice evening.
Showing posts with label Portland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Portland. Show all posts
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, December 05, 2008
Craft Night!
I had a delightful evening yesterday with some old friends and some new at a newly formed (at least as far as I know) weekly Craft Night. I had a hole in a sock I'd knit and a new friend helped me fix it. I made good headway on the socks I have on the needles and just had an amazing time.
Growing up, I always had small groups of friends with very intense friendships. But in college, I didn't really meet a lot of new people because so many high school classmates continued on to U of O. Admittedly, I became friends with a different group of people, but we many of us knew each other before college. And since college, most of my friends have moved away, so I haven't really hung out with people on a regular basis in a few years. To be honest, I didn't really notice. Probably because it wasn't like everyone was getting together and I felt excluded; it's hard to have a dinner party with invitees from Astoria, Eugene, Portland, Boston, DC, Baltimore, LA and Japan. But hanging out with this group of women last night made me realize how much I miss the friends that have moved away and how nice it is to, well, meet new people and socially interact.
This week was hosted by a friend from high school (A.) who I hadn't seen in years and years before a birthday party a couple weeks ago. She hosted at her parents' house in SE and man, it felt like going home. Anyone who grew up in SE or NE Portland* (at least around the time that I did) knows what I mean: the house that feels familiar and welcoming from the first moment you cross the threshold because it's truly a home. That lived-in feeling, tons of family photos and artwork, warm light, the smell of delicious cooking... It's the kind of house I grew up in. A's parents were sooo nice! It was weird to feel like a kid again but entirely internally. And to evaluate an initial experience as though I were 16. All I can do is hope that when Pete and I are ready to have kids, we can create that kind of environment for them.
*I'm sure this happens everywhere, but the old Portland homes in inner SE and NE have a particular feel. I couldn't explain it if I tried - some mix of architecture, age and people.
Growing up, I always had small groups of friends with very intense friendships. But in college, I didn't really meet a lot of new people because so many high school classmates continued on to U of O. Admittedly, I became friends with a different group of people, but we many of us knew each other before college. And since college, most of my friends have moved away, so I haven't really hung out with people on a regular basis in a few years. To be honest, I didn't really notice. Probably because it wasn't like everyone was getting together and I felt excluded; it's hard to have a dinner party with invitees from Astoria, Eugene, Portland, Boston, DC, Baltimore, LA and Japan. But hanging out with this group of women last night made me realize how much I miss the friends that have moved away and how nice it is to, well, meet new people and socially interact.
This week was hosted by a friend from high school (A.) who I hadn't seen in years and years before a birthday party a couple weeks ago. She hosted at her parents' house in SE and man, it felt like going home. Anyone who grew up in SE or NE Portland* (at least around the time that I did) knows what I mean: the house that feels familiar and welcoming from the first moment you cross the threshold because it's truly a home. That lived-in feeling, tons of family photos and artwork, warm light, the smell of delicious cooking... It's the kind of house I grew up in. A's parents were sooo nice! It was weird to feel like a kid again but entirely internally. And to evaluate an initial experience as though I were 16. All I can do is hope that when Pete and I are ready to have kids, we can create that kind of environment for them.
*I'm sure this happens everywhere, but the old Portland homes in inner SE and NE have a particular feel. I couldn't explain it if I tried - some mix of architecture, age and people.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Things I didn't know we'd lost
Obama has given us our patriotism back. I just... I mean... Just watch this video. It's incredible. Portland, so-called "Beirut West," is so proud, so happy to be an American city. It always has been, but suddenly that has a whole new meaning and its people are taking back some of the symbols of the "real America/fake America" rhetoric that's become so popular over the last eight years. Perhaps most amazing? They're doing so without irony, without kitsch; they're just genuinely, authentically overjoyed. And you're welcome to join them.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Your full emotional spectrum in one drive
I know - two posts in one day. But the other post was so very very crappy, we'll just pretend it doesn't exist. Have you driven up Powell blvd recently? (No need to answer, People Who Don't Live In Portland. This is a rhetorical question for you.) We had not in quite some time, but today took it from 39th to the I-205 entrance at 82nd. Anything you have ever felt - happiness, appreciation for beauty, sadness, depression, befuddlement, total confusion, ire, rage, amusement - you will feel again in those 43 blocks. I am not kidding - it's a roller coaster for the brain.
Happiness
Okay, you pretty much have to start out happy. I may have lied about the full spectrum being on Powell itself. Unless you super love Safeway or restaurants with weird names (see befuddlement below). And for most people, they get happiness once they hit amusement. But let's assume you start out happy because you're going somewhere you want to be going (like to REI to get a cycling-specific balaclava).
Depression
What is with those weird parking areas on the south side of the street? What is up with that? They're so completely awful! In fact, they're so awful that you almost don't notice you're on a tree-lined boulevard complete with planted medians.
Someone told me once that those odd parking islands were created to encourage shoppers and build Powell up as a shopping district. The idea was that you'd increase commerce if people had a place to park and it would be better for the neighborhood if shoppers weren't parked in front of houses just off Powell. Here are the problems with this set up, if that is indeed true: 1) all the "shopping" is on the other side of the street. And from the large cement retaining walls behind the little parking areas, I think that's how it was intended. 2) Powell is a four lane highway with few protected cross-walks. 3) Most of the commercial buildings on the north side of the street have their own little parking lots.
Appreciation for Beauty
You almost don't notice the trees on Powell, but at a certain point (maybe around 70th?) the blue sky is filled with riotous yellow leaves. So long as you look up, your heart swells.
Sadness
This really goes with the depression. It just makes you sad to know that once upon a time someone had great hopes for Powell. They planted trees, they zoned light commercial, they probably even encouraged the development of local neighborhood and business associations. And for what? It's dirty and dingy. Everyone seems resigned to life behind a cement retaining wall, the neighborhood hiding from the expected noise the busy little shopping district was meant to generate.
Rage
There are always some kind of traffic shenanigans going on along Powell. Pedestrians run out into traffic like common squirrels; drivers make sudden, violent and thoroughly unheralded left turns; cars with no functioning brake lights cause others to stop short; the list goes on. We did not actually suffer rage ourselves; but some of the drivers stuck behind the two cars waiting for the police to come after their rear-ender in the center lane seemed to be pretty full of rage. Although we didn't feel it, we did at least see it, and that's something, right?
Ire
We did feel ire, though. After we made it past the minor accident slowdown, the woman ahead of us decided to stop a full car-length back from the line. While that didn't make a difference to us, it did effect someone behind us because they couldn't quite get passed the accident detritus until the light changed, which slowed things down further. That's so irritating - just rude.
Befuddlement
I love this restaurant name: Dream Cafe & More. I tried to accurately represent the relative sizes of the fonts, like the "& More" is being whispered. There was a pumpkin patch with lots of hay bales and some bouncy castles to draw in kids. There was a sign that read:
Depression, Again
Pete pointed out a girl walking along with two nasty, dirty, swarthy looking men. She was several inches taller, very slender and pretty, wearing a tight pink hoodie, a short very cream-colored skirt and shimmery tights. It was the skirt Pete pointed out. "Do you think that's an ice-skater's skirt?" That is exactly what it looked like. It fell to just below her butt (or where a butt would be if she had one), was kind of pleated/ruffle-y full, and had some kind of gold trim along the bottom. Pete says, "Prostitute, do you think?" I said, "I dunno. I mean, she looked pretty healthy." (Most of the hookers we see around 82nd look like they're hooking to feed a pretty nasty drug habit - all pock-marked and lurching.) "And," I continued, "she wasn't, like, trying to be sexy at all. She wasn't wearing a ton of visible make-up. Her hair was pretty boring. It looked like she was just walking along with two dudes. My guess? Russian. Tall, slender, elegant, mixing sportswear with what could be nightclub-wear but is really more misappropriated sportswear. I bet those guys were relatives." But it's pretty depressing to see a pretty girl walking along the street and because she's with two kind of gnarly guys, assume she's a hooker.
Total Confusion
And then we crossed 90th. And we saw this. Guess what it is? It's just sitting there on the north side on Powell, at 92nd. Next to the I-205 on-ramp, almost under an overpass. Go on: guess!
The Columbia School of English. Yeah, I have no idea why. Do you think they built that building for themselves? It reminds me of that episode of South Park where the Persians want to take over the local lesbian bar and Mrs. Garrison freaks out because they'll do up the whole place in columns and gold curtain rods.
Amusement
See above
Happiness
Okay, you pretty much have to start out happy. I may have lied about the full spectrum being on Powell itself. Unless you super love Safeway or restaurants with weird names (see befuddlement below). And for most people, they get happiness once they hit amusement. But let's assume you start out happy because you're going somewhere you want to be going (like to REI to get a cycling-specific balaclava).
Depression
What is with those weird parking areas on the south side of the street? What is up with that? They're so completely awful! In fact, they're so awful that you almost don't notice you're on a tree-lined boulevard complete with planted medians.
Someone told me once that those odd parking islands were created to encourage shoppers and build Powell up as a shopping district. The idea was that you'd increase commerce if people had a place to park and it would be better for the neighborhood if shoppers weren't parked in front of houses just off Powell. Here are the problems with this set up, if that is indeed true: 1) all the "shopping" is on the other side of the street. And from the large cement retaining walls behind the little parking areas, I think that's how it was intended. 2) Powell is a four lane highway with few protected cross-walks. 3) Most of the commercial buildings on the north side of the street have their own little parking lots.
Appreciation for Beauty
You almost don't notice the trees on Powell, but at a certain point (maybe around 70th?) the blue sky is filled with riotous yellow leaves. So long as you look up, your heart swells.
Sadness
This really goes with the depression. It just makes you sad to know that once upon a time someone had great hopes for Powell. They planted trees, they zoned light commercial, they probably even encouraged the development of local neighborhood and business associations. And for what? It's dirty and dingy. Everyone seems resigned to life behind a cement retaining wall, the neighborhood hiding from the expected noise the busy little shopping district was meant to generate.
Rage
There are always some kind of traffic shenanigans going on along Powell. Pedestrians run out into traffic like common squirrels; drivers make sudden, violent and thoroughly unheralded left turns; cars with no functioning brake lights cause others to stop short; the list goes on. We did not actually suffer rage ourselves; but some of the drivers stuck behind the two cars waiting for the police to come after their rear-ender in the center lane seemed to be pretty full of rage. Although we didn't feel it, we did at least see it, and that's something, right?
Ire
We did feel ire, though. After we made it past the minor accident slowdown, the woman ahead of us decided to stop a full car-length back from the line. While that didn't make a difference to us, it did effect someone behind us because they couldn't quite get passed the accident detritus until the light changed, which slowed things down further. That's so irritating - just rude.
Befuddlement
I love this restaurant name: Dream Cafe & More. I tried to accurately represent the relative sizes of the fonts, like the "& More" is being whispered. There was a pumpkin patch with lots of hay bales and some bouncy castles to draw in kids. There was a sign that read:
Corn StockPete asks, "Do you think they mean 'corn stalks'?" I like the possibility that spelling was not the author's problem. S/he wanted people to invest in his/her corn. S/he had a supply of corn s/he wanted to sell. S/he did not have any suped up models of corn on hand.
Straw
For Sale
Depression, Again
Pete pointed out a girl walking along with two nasty, dirty, swarthy looking men. She was several inches taller, very slender and pretty, wearing a tight pink hoodie, a short very cream-colored skirt and shimmery tights. It was the skirt Pete pointed out. "Do you think that's an ice-skater's skirt?" That is exactly what it looked like. It fell to just below her butt (or where a butt would be if she had one), was kind of pleated/ruffle-y full, and had some kind of gold trim along the bottom. Pete says, "Prostitute, do you think?" I said, "I dunno. I mean, she looked pretty healthy." (Most of the hookers we see around 82nd look like they're hooking to feed a pretty nasty drug habit - all pock-marked and lurching.) "And," I continued, "she wasn't, like, trying to be sexy at all. She wasn't wearing a ton of visible make-up. Her hair was pretty boring. It looked like she was just walking along with two dudes. My guess? Russian. Tall, slender, elegant, mixing sportswear with what could be nightclub-wear but is really more misappropriated sportswear. I bet those guys were relatives." But it's pretty depressing to see a pretty girl walking along the street and because she's with two kind of gnarly guys, assume she's a hooker.
Total Confusion
And then we crossed 90th. And we saw this. Guess what it is? It's just sitting there on the north side on Powell, at 92nd. Next to the I-205 on-ramp, almost under an overpass. Go on: guess!
The Columbia School of English. Yeah, I have no idea why. Do you think they built that building for themselves? It reminds me of that episode of South Park where the Persians want to take over the local lesbian bar and Mrs. Garrison freaks out because they'll do up the whole place in columns and gold curtain rods.
Amusement
See above
Monday, April 02, 2007
"It's Time!"
Is anyone else creeped out by Fred Meyer's "It's Time!" campaign? It's been around since last year and I think it is just crazy weird. It totally looks like they're a cult sending not-so-secret messages to their followers. Pete pointed out that it also looks like none of the people pictured have any understanding of how to eat the fruit or vegetable they're holding. I'll try to take some pictures, in case Portland is the only place these billboards appear. I looked on-line, but apparently I'm the only one who thinks they're strange enough to photograph.
Also, the Indian casino billboard on I-84 east at 33rd of the lady eating shrimp is totally hilarious. I'll also try to get a picture of it. It looks like someone else is weilding the shrimp fork. Like that part of the "Dick in a Box" video where Justin Timberlake pokes Kristen Wiig with a feather - same idea, only think "scary smiling woman being poked with a jumbo prawn on a shrimp fork."
Hm. You know, in the telling, that does not sound so hilarious.
Also, the Indian casino billboard on I-84 east at 33rd of the lady eating shrimp is totally hilarious. I'll also try to get a picture of it. It looks like someone else is weilding the shrimp fork. Like that part of the "Dick in a Box" video where Justin Timberlake pokes Kristen Wiig with a feather - same idea, only think "scary smiling woman being poked with a jumbo prawn on a shrimp fork."
Hm. You know, in the telling, that does not sound so hilarious.
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