Eating

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First off, how does anyone not love a place this handsome? I mean, seriously, Portland, you are dapper AND nearly equidistant from mountain and sea!

Second, bridges! I love bridges, and Portland’s got them in spades (with another on the way, I might add), including my all-time favorite, the Saint John’s. Oh my dear, what a beauty you are.

Third, Portlanders are pretty cool. We care. We are creative and have fantastic art and music venues. We read a LOT, with the greatest number of books circulated for a city our size. We are open minded enough to elect an openly-gay mayor and smart enough to take him to task over some less than brilliant behavior, and, in my case, almost wish he was running again.

Fourth, we’re quite green. We have the urban growth boundary to keep sprawl in check. We like alternative energy sources, wind and biomass anyone? We drive (very politely, I might add) hybrid and straight-up electric cars, share cars, and ride bicycles everywhere and have a counter to keep track of the legions crossing the Hawthorne Bridge (the hubster has a knack for being a number ending in 74: 1974, 1774, hmm…). We reduce, reuse, and recycle like the dickens, even things like yard debris, kitchen scraps (however smelly), and motor oil, right at the curb! Because whether or not global warming is real, wasting resources is d-u-m-b.

Fifth, we are crazy about food and beverages! We care about the quality and the people who bring it all to us. We are vegans, omnivores, and uber-carnivores. We love LOCAL! We make cheese, pickles, sausage, whiskey, wine, beer, cider, and so much more. Being good stewards of the land and treating animals kindly, even if their ultimate end is on our dinner plate, is important. We also like food carts and have literally hundreds of them, with fabulous chocolate caramel potato chip cupcakes, Korean tacos (as yummy as they look), and beyond delicious gentle man-made crackers with artisan salami and cheese.

Sixth, we’re a little wacky. You can wait with your lover (hair resembling a My Little Pony doll) in a long line to buy a doughnut where, “The Magic is in the Hole.” It might be in the shape of a penis! Or, as is my favorite, the Grape Ape, be sprinkled with grape dust. We have Zoobombers (probably not what you think) and naked bike rides, the Portland Urban Iditarod, the Adult Soapbox Derby, and many, many tattoos (though the hubster and I remain hold-outs). I once saw a guy riding a unicycle dressed as Uncle Sam. He bowed before opening the door for me at Fred Meyer. So gallant!

On the downside, at least for me, we have miles of unimproved roads, lots of pot holes, and under funded schools, but damn it, don’t you dare think about raising taxes on our beyond amazing local micro-brews. We have strip clubs and creepy massage parlors and prostitutes galore! We still shoot unarmed black folks in distress. We beat gay men for holding hands.

The long and short of it? We are beautiful, brilliant, and flawed. Oh, and wet! Did you know that it rains in Portland? Yup, something like 38 inches a year, though not at the moment. The sun is shining!

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First of Fall

This was Saturday, the first of fall, the crispness requiring sweaters and long pants. We drove up to Multnomah Falls Lodge and had breakfast, early in the hush of morning. There was trout and eggs and huckleberry pancakes on dogwood rimmed plates. It was dreamy and lovely and a little silly, too. A fine start to the season and the day.

p.s. The hubster, when he looked at the post last night, said, incredulous at the beauty, “We live here!”

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For my final post on Montreal, welcome to our home away from home, Rue Tourville, tiny and easy to miss.

A cool painting hanging on the wall of our rented abode and one of the highlights of the trip: CIDER! This is ice cider, some of which is made from apples allowed to freeze on the tree before fermentation, while others are made from juice that is allowed to freeze. In either case, it is delicious. The hubster and I decided it is the port of apple ciders, sweet and kind of potent, meant for slow sipping (or pouring over ice cream!). In addition to this rather fancy bottle, I also nearly drank my weight in regular hard cider (dry not sweet), though to call it regular is a shame, because damn, Canadians really have a way with it, and as a big fan and consumer (second only to my love for whiskey), I feel I can say this with some authority.

More shots of our abode. Silly and a tad glamorous at the same time.

Saint Zotique, a neighborhood jewel.

Red mail boxes. Classic.

These are the buildings in the neighborhood.

Place Saint Henri Metro Station, dreamy.

He played Led Zeppelin in the most unexpectedly beautiful way, and I felt lucky to hear it.

Cafe Saint Henri, really good coffee in divine light.

The Marche Atwater, a very cool public market reminiscent of Seattle’s Pike Place, though this seems to be strictly for food,

like dark chocolate cake,

and macaroons. The pink was my favorite. I like it when pretty and yummy collide.

 And then poutine (twice: once the traditional way, the other with spicy peppers and sausage, the best), with beer for the hubster and cider for me, but you saw that coming, didn’t you?

Winter is coming…

Merci mille fois, chere Montreal!

 

 

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Bonjour de Montreal! We’re at Faberge, a super yummy breakfast spot that we would have fallen head over heels for even if we didn’t happen to know the awesome chef, Greg’s cousin (once removed), Aubrey. We had the best fried chicken and waffles. I say that with a sad face, I might add, because it’s so dang far. We need to get to work on a local solution. Stat!

With full bellies, we spy some fabulous roof toppers on our way to Mont Royal, a beautiful Frederick Law Olmstead Park. For Portlanders not in the know, he’s responsible for Laurelhurst, too!

A very green alley with the requisite pigeon.

Monument to Jacques Cartier. He arrived in Montreal in 1535.

Montreal and the Saint Lawrence River from Mont Royal.

A hop, skip, and a jump away is the Montreal Olympic Stadium.

Quite possibly, the most beautiful mural I’ve ever seen.

L’Ecole Nationale de Theatre on Rue Laurier, Mile-End

Richard Morin, Artist

A benefit to speaking the language. This says, “The cow that farts.” Cheeky!

Oh dear, welcome to Cacao 70, aka chocolate nirvana. Every kind of chocolate. Every kind of way. I’m looking to the side because she is bringing more! There were waffles, chocolate fondue, chocolate beads with crunchy middles, a little chocolate shake, strawberries, bananas, and that weird thing on the right? Where we roasted marshmallows, of course! Oh, and right when you sit down, they bring a tiny mug of hot chocolate, just cuz. Sigh.

The Toi Moi et Cafe had a latte nearly as big as my head and really good food.

Beautiful ubiquity.

The Canadian Center for Architecture!

This fan was overwhelmed by the collection of architectural drawings and models,

and deeply saddened that they didn’t allow photographs, save of the building itself. But I won, anyhow, because the poster advertising the James Stirling exhibit had precisely what I wanted, so a photo of a photo. Not too shabby.

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 Okay, step one. Open this link. Press play. Repeat. That’s the vibe I had all weekend, chill and happy. Because life is sweet!

Especially when eating Salted Caramel and Cinnamon Snickerdoodle ice cream on a sweltering August afternoon.

Or hanging with Milo.

Reading a book on the back porch (The True Deceiver, by Tove Jansson), oh yeah, that’s it, too!

Enjoying kombucha culture with Bert? Yup. Though Lori is not impressed, yet.

Cutting loose and driving like a badass, nearly lapping the granny, er, dude, ahead of me. Good times, despite it not being enviro-friendly.

 

Eating a malasada.

Listening to Hawaiian music at Uwajimaya

with some of our favorite peeps.

Not too hot to trot, not too hot at all!

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