Monday, November 27, 2017

Like Food? Read On



Good morning,

I missed you.

I’ve had a foray away from the computer, and therefore, you, but I figure you are there and we’re chatting.

Oh, it’s just me typing? Well darn. I figured this was a two-way street. So, tell me, how was your week?

I wanted to give you a tour of Portland Oregon, and I will--sort of. You can call this a “Traveling with Joyce or Jo,” whichever.

On Friday we drove from Junction City to Portland in the sunshine, but the following day we slogged through rain, and what do you do in the rain?

Eat!

Great, just what my husband and I needed the day after Thanksgiving where I gave honor to Julia Childs with an Ode to Butter.

I buttered the turkey before putting it in the oven. The stuffing called for butter. I buttered the broccoli and the mashed potatoes, and oh yes, the sweet potatoes were glazed with butter and brown sugar.

No butter in the pumpkin pie—no, but that dollop of whipping cream on top was close enough.

I’m buttered out.

But thank you, Julia Childs, for telling us to cook with butter. And now that we know fat is good for us, well, what can I say? Ask daughter number one; she will rave about how fat is not only necessary to our health and welfare but will satisfy hunger.

That first evening in Portland I wanted a steak and salad--had one, not a good one though. I took the recommendations of the motel receptionist, and we went four doors down, to Bill’s Steak House. Don’t do it.

Breakfast: “Let’s have lox, bagel, and cream cheese at Kornblatt’s,” I say to husband dear.

We’re off with our little dog Sweetpea in tow. 


The 23rd Street area is my favorite place to be in Portland, quaint shops, good food, and it is very dog-friendly with water bowls outside the shops, and many well-behaved dogs leading their people down the street.  Sweetpea waited in the car during our breakfast/lunch though.


Begin your day right--with a dill pickle.






Leaving Kornblatt’s fortified, we spent the day slogging through the rain. Rain does not keep Portlander’s home—the streets and shops were crowded and finding a place to park was a challenge even for a scientist with a slide rule. (Remember those?)

On one rainy day, my kids and I had the best day at Disneyland for rain did keep people away and we ran from The Indiana Jones ride to Splash Mountain and back again about three times.  I splashing in the rain is one difference between Pacific Northwest people and Southern California People.

We found Finnegan’s Toy Store in downtown Portland that I had seen advertised as a sort they don’t make anymore. Not a big box store but with lots of stuff, educational, scientific and playful. 


  
Sculpture alongside the sidewalk. Oregon is the Beaver State after all. 


We got wet, carried the dog, who would balk when she either got too wet, or decided she had had enough. wore ourselves out, went to our motel.

Okay, time for more food.

I didn’t feel satisfied with food so far; I wanted something with pizzazz. So what did I suggest? A pizza! One cannot be un-cheered with a pizza. Of course, it needs to be a good pizza.

Enter Pizzeria Otto on Sandy, Blvd.



 
I tried to get a photo of the cook throwing a pizza dough—we were sitting at the bar, close to the pizza oven--when one of the other cooks told me that one really shouldn’t throw the dough, “It should be treated like a delicate flower.”

The pizza was cooked Neapolitan-style, soft dough, crispy at the edges, just right. An excellent Caesar salad with anchovies preceded it. We added a glass of Chianti, and I was satisfied.

The following day we drove back up Burnside Street to 22nd Street and stopped at The Elephants Deli, a delicatessen reminiscent of an old European market with prepared food, food to order, sweets, all made in-house, along with kick-knacks to browse.

They were featuring their in-house-made fondue, the sample tasted excellent, so I bought a pint to take home.

Fondue Do’s and Don’t.

Do: Expertly stir your fondue fork in a figure-eight pattern, don’t just dip.

Don’t: Lose your baguette in the cheese—tradition dictates that if you do, you must kiss the person to your left. (This might be a do, or a don’t.)

Do: Pare with white wine. (Duh.)

We’re home; the sun is shining.

Where shall we go next?


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