Wednesday, October 29, 2008

All Hallowed's Eve-PDX style


There was another quirky, charming but slightly menacing event here in PDX last weekend unlike anything that would have occurred in the other places I have lived. Sure, Vermont has heifer parades and llama festivals, Boston has the Marathon, Wethersfield has Ye Olde Wethersfield Days, Hartford has, um...drive-bys?

But along with the clowns jousting on 10' bicycles, people creating "parks" in a parking spots, naked bike rides (public nudity is legal in PDX as it is considered "artistic expression"), an adult soapbox derby race down a dormant volcano dubbed 'The Olympics of Drunk Driving', we 
just had the 3rd Annual Zombie Walk. There are Zombie Walks in other cities, but I like to think Portland's is exceptionally gruesome and fun.
There were Zombie families
with their Zombie dogs
and Zombie clowns, of course- because it's Portland.
There were Zombie business men. On unicycles- because it's Portland.
and Zombies clawing at restaurant and department store windows, leaving smears of blood.
Imagine 700+ blood-splattered, undead staggering around a city and gathering at a public square to perform the dance from Michael Jackson's video 'Thriller'. Can't picture it? Check out this video.

But my favorite part of all was a quote in an article written by Melissa Navas published in the Oregonian:

"He saw some zombies pound on Nordstrom's glass doors, leaving behind streaks of red. And blood somehow landed  on his violin case, though it'll eventually come off, he said.

He wasn't shocked by the scene because he's seen theme-parades before.

'The same thing happened last year when the army of Santas came around,' he said. 'Only they didn't have fake blood.' "

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Magic Mushrooms

My former neighbors Flo & Randy are master mushroom hunters.   Flo is a Frenchwoman transplanted to the Pacific NW. Being married to the outdoorsy, bike-riding, PDX native Randy, the union has produced an elite team of chanterelle foragers.

Once when I lived next door to them, I invited myself to one of their mushroom sojourns. The take was a paltry 3 slug-nibbled mushrooms. I believe I am a curse, as it seems every other outing they embarked upon yielded generous amounts of lovely orange fungi.

I received an email a few days ago from Randy asking if I could take some Cantharellus cibarus off their hands. Seems they hit the mother lode, finding so many mushrooms they could barely transport them from the forest back to the car. They had the equivalent of 4 brown-paper grocery bags stuffed full of the fragrant, orange morsels.

I replied that of course I would love some and I would also like the recipe for the buttery, flaky biscuits they would make every fall using our Oregon chanterelles. We made arrangements to meet at their house (my old 'hood) to prepare and enjoy lunch.

I decided to bring dessert and this morning made a pear tart using local Comice pears, local hazelnuts, local butter, local rosemary and local flour. The "quick" puff-pastry recipe came from the Silver Palate cookbook I've had since the '80's and it was brilliant. I have made authentic puff-pastry before, and the meticulous, precision-like technique suits my style. But you need quite a bit of time and the weather has to be just right to make a successful batch. On short notice I decided to take a chance on this faster, more convenient recipe. I added a bit of sugar because this was to used for a dessert, but I plan to make some more without sugar and freeze them for savory tarts and appetizers.

Once I arrived we set about preparing our meal. The weather has been spectacular, and today was another incredible sunny, chilly, blue-skied autumn spectacular (normally at this time of year we would be in the midst of winter rain, clouds and gloom). F & R have a virtual farm-in-the-city: apple, hazelnut, Asian pear trees; garlic, onions, leeks; kale, chard, arugula, romaine, green & red-leaf lettuces; end-of-season basil and tomatoes- and that's just what they have in the garden right now! I was assigned to prepping the mushrooms, which I love! Put me in a corner with a good knife and a pile of produce and I will slice, chop, dice, julienne, mince, chiffonade, etc. happily for hours. Randy prepared the biscuits and Flo did a bit of everything: cleaning, prepping, and- most importantly- harvesting the salad.

Why do French people make the best salads? Simple assemblages of greens, oil and vinegar become sublime compositions of textures and tastes. So different from the bland, flavorless watery greens doused in gluey, overly-sweet "dressings" that Americans call "salad." Of course, the fact that every salad I've had at Flo & Randy's house has been comprised of vigorous, healthy plants enjoying sunshine, water and rich soil that were picked and gently baptized with perfectly proportioned oil-to-vinegar vinaigrette seconds before being placed on my plate has something to do with the superior texture and flavor. But still... there is something in the genes of these Francs that understands how a salad should taste an feel and they make it look effortless.

Just as we had decided lunch would be biscuits, salad, Black Butte Porter Ale (a divine local beer product), and pear tart, Flo decided we should also make chanterelle risotto and bestowed upon me the honor of preparing it. Woohoo. Though she had a recipe, we pretty much winged it and the creamy rice dish turned out beautifully- savory,  creamy, toothsome bites of rice infused with mushrooms, garlic and wine. 

Because the weather was just too nice to stay indoors, we set the table in the midst of their garden of eatin' and enjoyed yet another local, seasonal, communal feast in this place that I am so happy to call home.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Cop & Robbers

This being Saturday, I slept in for  bit. Not too late, as I was summoned to end 'The Great Kitty Famine of October 18th,' a tragic piece of feline history. Unfortunately, this event is doomed to repeat itself over and over as 'The Great Kitty Famine of October 19th' and then 'The Great Kitty Famine of October 20th', and so on.

After turning on the radio (damn you, pledge week) and opening the blinds and curtains, I suddenly realize the dog being walked by the 2 men across the street is a serious looking German Shepherd and the 2 men are dressed in the same dark blue outfits and carrying guns. Big guns. Big guns that are drawn. The police are looking for someone.

I immediately check my doors, as I am pretty casual about locking the place up. Don't need any criminals using my house as a hideout, 
holding starving cats as hostages. Yikes, the back door is unlocked, making my house accessible by simply applying a bit of pressure with your pinky finger. 

The little feral cat I have been feeding is waiting patiently by the side of the house staring at my window waiting for breakfast but I don't want to go out there just yet. I don't know what the police are looking for and would feel very silly getting caught in a crossfire while wearing a torn sweater, black "comfy" pants, yellow Crocs and no bra. Sorry, little cat, you'll just have to wait.

I saw they had our street blockaded on either end as cops in cars and on foot wandered up and down. This went on for about 30 minutes. Finally, they removed the blockades and my neighbor, a retired man across the street, pulls into his driveway in his Crown Vic. He has a huge radio tower in his backyard and between that and his car I always took him as a retired cop and figure he'll know what is going on. But he doesn't. He did, however, have to wait down the street before he could come home.

Two more cops walked by and told us they were after a robber and the K9 unit caught him hiding in the blackberry brambles at the bicycle path edge of our street.

Now that the bad guy is gone, our block has exploded with activity by residents that were either stuck in or stuck away from their homes. The teen-age skateboarders, the home-improvers, the spandex-clad bicyclists, the leave rakers, the dog-walkers and the autumn gardeners are all out to take advantage of what looks like a beautiful, October Saturday.

All, that is, but for one alleged felon with dog bites and bramble scratches.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

I'm in love! Again!


For those of you who have known me well the past few years, what you probably suspect is in fact- true. Since the 'Great V-Neck Obsession', the objects of my affection have been of the "electronic" type. NO, not that that kind of electronic- get your mind out of the gutter for cryin' out loud. Anyway... following my adoration of my Apple PowerBook G4 and then the iPhone, I have finally fallen for another. A bicycle named A2B. A2B is electronic and style-y and comfortable and easy to ride. All relationships should have such qualities...

The manufacturer did a demo at work today so I had a chance to give it a spin. I'm hooked and really want to buy one. It costs $2,500 and some of you have already given me your opinion.

So what do you think? Please post a comment and weigh in!

Friday, September 26, 2008

Cute or Creepy?

Animals that act like people...

You decide...

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

"I'll be back."

Tante H., 80-years old, decided to pay Alder Street a visit. Wanting to avoid the delights of air travel, she chose to come by train. Her trip was, quite literally, across the entire North American continent. She arrived in fine spirits- equipped with hilarious stories about her travels- and has been making the most of Portland ever since.

Since she arrived last Thursday, she has:
(make sure to click the links below for the ultimate Tante H. in PDX experience)

And yes, she does plan on coming out West again for a visit. Maybe not next year, but definitely the year after that...

'Cuz this old lady kicks ass.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

I Heart Ramadan! But not 911...

BAD NEWS: Because of my narrow cultural POV and lefty, white-guilt, politically-correct leanings I pretty much made an ass of myself.
GOOD NEWS: Perhaps because of others' narrow world view and insufficient understanding of historical events, my social gaff went unnoticed.

You decide.

Aisha and Asya brought me my Ramadan food on Thursday. Finally. It was 9:30 pm and I was hungry. As we stood in my kitchen and I oohed and aahed over the holiday left-overs, Asya said (as if I was as ignorant of historical events as I was of Islamic holidays), "You know, today is 911."

Um, yeaaaah. My friends and I make jokes about "how the world changed" and send each other cards like this. "Yes, I've been hearing a lot about it on the radio and TV today," I say lamely. What else do you say to 2 head-scarved Paki Muslim girls?

Aisha went on describing what she remembered that day and it wasn't much. Or accurate. She told me how her cousins were flying in from Pakistan that very day and were on 'The Plane.' Luckily they were "sitting in the back" and survived the crash, because- according to Aisha- when a plane goes down the front hits first so leaving the back intact. When the cousins arrived at Aisha's house later on September 11th, 2001, her family had a big party for them. To celebrate their arrival or survival? I'm not sure...

"Wow, they were so, um, lucky..." I stammered.

She was 6 years old when this event happened and of course she only has a child's comprehension of what actually occurred. But I couldn't help speculating on what discussions (if any) took place in her home or in her private Muslim school. Then she said:

"My father wouldn't let me go outside to play after that happened."

Oh- so I guess her family did have a socio-political understanding of what was happening that day- I thought to myself.

"Well, of course your Dad wanted to keep you safe. A lot of Americans didn't understand that someone being Muslim didn't mean they had any thing to do with being a terrorist."

Aisha and Asya looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. I realized that she meant that there was so much danger- planes crashing, buildings collapsing, people dying, etc.- that her father just wanted her safely inside because America was under attack. It was beyond her her realm of understanding that her greatest threat was posed by some idiot "patriot" that saw a dark-skinned girl in a head scarf. I had the distinct impression that these girls had never heard the words 'fundamentalist', 'Islam', 'extremist' or 'terrorist' associated with the events of 911.

Am I some kinda a-hole, or what?

But our conversation quickly turned to the issue of people who have birthdays that fall around September 11th and how that must suck. I'm sure both girls went home thinking I was some American idiot rambling on about something I knew nothing about and just totally dismissed me and my inaccurate theories about Islam.

Phew.