Meriwether's

Y'know how embarrassed you feel for yourself when you stumble upon your 7th grade diary?

it's the same feeling when you forget about your half-assed food blog, after a year.

Meriwether's is spectacular, and fresh. albeit uninspiring.

Sometimes we do not need to be awed by innovative technology, or weird gastronomic pairings.

Maybe an heirloom tomato should just be an heirloom tomato.
It was, at Meriwether's. It is about the farm. It is about the fresh ingredients. Meriwether's is so confident about the food they produce that there is no need for razzle dazzle. That is why they are so good, and that is why i cannot complain when a "panzanella caprese salad" is just a caprese salad on top of a little house made bread.

Meriwether's reminded me that life does not need to be complicated to enjoy.

Let fresh farm-to-table ingredients speak for themselves!

Frank's Noodle House

whoa its almost been a year!
recap:

I am still holding hands with the boy I held hands with in the last post. appropriately he is a very very talented cook who has a bizarre love for Martin Yan.

I haven't stopped eating. Notably:

A Cena: GET the lobster ravioli

Pok Pok (w/ dad): "it is amazing what a little marketing can do" -Dad

Mee sen (w/ dad): "this is so much better than pok pok" -dad

Red onion (w/ dad): "Every Thai restaurant should have crab fried rice" -dad

Gilt club: burger with foie gras? no. gourmet pork rinds? yes. 30% S.I. Discount? yes. Open til 2:30? yes. Tracy's first love? yes

Yoko's/C-bar: SAKE!!! delicious late-night bar food and pinball

Ping: skewers. over priced. eh. Asian food made by white people

Cassidy's: I love pickled eggs

Gruner: I do not love rabbit liver

Belly: boring food but the cocktails blew my mind

Clyde Common: tripe, never had it outside of pho, now i understand why most people are apprehensive about it. simple/tasty HH. Mr. Z bought me a cookie ":) Good bourbon = good gelato

Wongs King (dinner): Mr Z ordered sweet and sour pork. while i ordered lobster, hong kong style chow mein and a very disappointing pepper-salted squid

But it was FRANKS'S NOODLE HOUSE that compelled me to blog tonight (and avoid folding my laundry). Former proprietor of Beaverton's Du Kuh Bee opened up this little spot on Broadway. A most welcomed addition to the lackluster presence of good food eateries over there. Frank's enthusiasm and cheerfulness was really what sold me. While the snail salad and sauteed octopus were almost painfully similar and unmemorable the noodles were out of this world. The noodles were thick and chewy, only the way noodles can be when they are made by hand. The shreds of cabbage, onions and carrots were nicely coated with chili oil and gave just a sublte spice to the dish. Was it Korean or was it Chinese? I do not know, but my grin was as large as the one of the Noodle guy's on their restaurant sign. I will definitely come back for lunch, and maybe try something different for dinner. Korean short ribs, anyone?

love

Lincoln

I had a meal with a boy that I hold hands with.
It was our birthday dinner.
The room was industrial, and oddly wood-crafty with a particular northwest air. Clean, modern but unpretentious and warm.
our server would not serve me alcohol because my driver's license was expired-- for 3 days. I cursed her and the OLCC under my breath, but smiled nonetheless. Rosemary lemonade (not so)regretfully stood in as my glass of wine. Mr. Z, although not the heavy-drinker, ordered a beer only to spite my untimely predicament.
My pasta looked like meal worms(cavatelli), but tasted like happy cheese pockets that had just enough tooth in it all complimented with the delightfully greasy duck confit.
I whipped out my camera to take a picture of the clever and efficient way they designed their votives, but he told me to wait while he was in the bathroom to do something so silly.
I kicked him in the shin.
We shared something called a brutti ma buoni for dessert. I suppose it meant ugly but good. It was lumpy nutty meringue. Ugly, and okay.
The meal itself was fine but mostly I enjoyed the boy I got to hold hands with
:)

Organic food, Moleskin books, and Gentrification

I stumbled upon this website:
http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/









I love it.

Ringside Steakhouse

I woke up at 10 AM this morning, with an uncomfortable layer of heat emanating from my body. I am spread out like the Vitruvian Man on my bed and my sheets are tossed on the floor. I've got nothing but a bra and boyshorts on and am stuck between a torturous lethargy from the heat and restlessness from laying in bed awaiting the arrival of REM cycles that never came. It is hot, and I think I may still be drunk from the Makers Mark the night before.
Alexis calls me up. I let it buzz for a few rings, teetering on the edge of screening her call. Alas, I suck it up and answer.
"what up?" i groggily answer
"I'll be there in an hour or so!"
Oh, god. Why?

Hiking.

Yep.

I was happy to go because I knew it would help me work up an appetite for some steak later in the evening. Since Mieky only had a few more days before he went back to the military base, and since the last time we went out to eat it was a horrendous failure, I decided to take him out proper. I knew he would not be down for my normal fare(beef tongue, marrow butter, sweetbreads, and such), but there is something we both could agree on. Nobody can hate on some delicious steak, El Gaucho and Ringside being the two more notable steakhouses in Portland. With my meager server's allowance, and the fact that El Gaucho is lovingly termed "El Gouge-O", I chose the offerings of Ringside.

Steak. This is a realm I have really yet to explore. Some people take this shit very very seriously. Like wine, there are many different ways to enjoy steak. You can dry age it to achieve optimal flavor. Different cuts require different temperatures. I will admit, I am entirely beef stupid. New York? Rib eye? Porterhouse? Top Sirloin? I have no idea what you are talking about. I did learn the deliciousness of the underrated Hangar steak at my restaurant.

(Back story: I lost my credit card, consequences of the debaucherous night previous. So i extracted 200 dollars cash from my bank account. remember this)

So tonight, I was simply a novice. I dressed in my i-don't-want-you-to-fuck-me-but-i-hope-my-calves-look-good pumps, a simple hipster cardigan, and gold hoops. Baby, we're going to Ringside! The decor is old-school. Like fedora hats, and mink coats and pinstripe suits old-school. The bar is sunken below the rest of the floor, so the bartender stands at eye level with his seated guests. It is very dimly lit and the tables are private leather booths.

Our sever was equally old school. An older asian woman, who bordered on ragged lifer rather than respected institution, who was pushier than I cared to have had.

"We just got a shipment of (insert local name and place) oysters this afternoon, they are fantastic"

Bitch, please. It is Tuesday. I know your game and do it better than you.

Actually I would have gotten them, but I had horribly underestimated the potential damage that Ringside would do to my wallet. Like i said earlier, I didn't have my credit card with me and I figured 180 dollars would be good for the evening. Ugh, I shame myself. We decided to focus on the main part of our experience: the steak.

In a manner that is so unlike myself and so against how I like to dine, we skipped courses and just ordered our slabs of beef. I had failed myself. If you know me, I go all out when we do restaurants. When I write this, I do not mean I am a total FatKid, that like to eat everything in sight. I am a firm believer that eating should be an experience. There is process. There is ritual. Through this we are not only nourishing our bodies, but also enriching the soul and cultivating relationships with the people we care for. I look at a meal like I try to feel my architecture. I crave sensory bliss and I crave narrative. There must be the apertif, Hendricks gin, stirred, up and with a twist. Our threshold. I love an amuse-bouche, something to whet the appetite, maybe a few oysters on the half shell or some dungeness crab on a blini. Then finally, halfway through my second glass of a Walla Walla Cabernet, will I be ready to look at my Medium Rare 14 oz. Prime Rib Eye with ravenous determination. slowly sawing through the well marbled flesh, I would take dainty bites, savoring its buttery and flavorful texture as it danced with the residual tannins of my wine. In between chewing and sipping, there would be choice conversations about politics, social-issues, light gossip and awkward but platonic flirtation. I eat plenty, but not gratuitously, and hardly make a dent in my steak before crying "uncle!". When my gracious server arrives with a box of leftovers, she also brings me a fernet branca or perhaps some averna to finish the evening.

That's what I would have loved to have happened.

it did not.

Our steaks were wonderfully cooked. Perfect at medium-rare and yes, it was a wonderful chunk of entwined fat and meat. Delicious. The garlic mashed potatoes were excellent, and I realized why the next morning when i took it out of the fridge and it was as hard as a stick of butter. The asparagus was beautifully prepared, green, bright and not soggy at all. Our wine, I was informed, was a cabernet blend. it turned out to be mostly merlot. It was a fruit bomb and not much else.

I felt horrid when the check came, and totaled 160. I only had 180 in cash, and twenty dollars is hardly worthy of a tip. Thankfully, Snowtronimous had 13 bucks on hand. We squeezed by, barely.

All in all, the meal was pleasant, but it was not worth the experience for blowing nearly two hundred bucks. and i didn't even get laid. I just am kicking myself for not bringing more cash. There really are no complaints, but I think that steakhouses just might not be my cup of tea. I'm not about Dean Martin and the standards. 200 dollars for steak, potatoes and asparagus does not seem as enticing as poached octopus, halibut ceviche, or saffron gelato. If Ringside is where you are planning to have dinner, do not half ass it like I did. prepare to feast like a king and spend like a senator.

Go big, or go home.

fuck

i can't find my credit card and all i want is a little pho.
yes.... i am hungover

Carafe

fuckin' bomb happy hour, yo

Hung out with Alexis and Hambino in celebration of Ham's engagement. I had some greasy escargot swimming in garlic-hazelnut butter. Spongy, with a little bite. A pair of deviled eggs, and braised veal tongue. It was all good and all really bad for me. I think i was fairly unimpressed with the veal tongue though, it seemed like the braised all texture out of it. I am surprised Ham ate anything at all. The croque monsieur took care of my picky eater. This brief because it was two months ago, but worthy of some sort of mention. The happy hour is CHEAP. It was a sunny day and a peculiar location, next to a parking garage across the street from the Keller Auditorium. I had to take a key to the parking lot restroom to pee-- almost a deal breaker.

Afterwards, we went to the Gilt club to drink and pontificate, er gossip, with Broyles. Drank a bottle of something good and chain smoked on their patio. MMm