amongst the work of my fellow housemates, I created deliciousness
Martini Asparagus:
asparagus
marinade: 2 c. good gin
1 tbs dry vermouth
1 c. EVOO
2 tbsp each of thyme and tarragon
grill them. eat them. love them.
2005/05/31
2005/05/22
Dinner, 5/22/2005
Challenged with slightly overdeveloped flowering garlic stalks.
soup:
kinda sorta-Tom Yum Ga with rice noodles,
fresh shitake,
cubed tofu,
halved garlic flowers
-pickled for 4 hours, the pickling solution was mized with boiling water for reconstituting -the dried shitake, then added to the broth for the braising
tom yum paste
sriracha
salt
soy molassas
entree
braised tofu with
baby bok choy, (halved and cored)
dried shitake
garlic stems
banana.
braised in mushroom vegetable broth.
corn starch solution added with banana.
served with sugar and vinegar rice.
soup:
kinda sorta-Tom Yum Ga with rice noodles,
fresh shitake,
cubed tofu,
halved garlic flowers
-pickled for 4 hours, the pickling solution was mized with boiling water for reconstituting -the dried shitake, then added to the broth for the braising
tom yum paste
sriracha
salt
soy molassas
entree
braised tofu with
baby bok choy, (halved and cored)
dried shitake
garlic stems
banana.
braised in mushroom vegetable broth.
corn starch solution added with banana.
served with sugar and vinegar rice.
2005/05/10
graduation dinners
gastronaut 21
Graduation dinners. The last chance you get to fleece your parents and well-wishing family members out of every dime you can. I'll spare you on the rhetoric, and get down to cases.
I wrote to an acquaintance of mine, the venerable Jim Dixon (a.k.a the only food writer in Portland worth reading. Yes Roger, that includes you) and this is what he sent me:
clarklewis
Gotham Building Tavern (ripe's new spot, open next week, reservations online at ripepdx.com, I think)
Navarre (a little more casual)
Tabla
Higgins
Paley's Place
Wildwood
Genoa (for the serious eater)
The Heathman
Caprial's (close to Reed, too)
Gino's (good and big quantities, and I know that appeals to the post-grad)
Rivers (in the Avalon Hotel, or whatever it's called now, off Macadam...Rollie Weisen is very good)
Basta's (a perennially overlooked favorite)
Jim's hasty e-mail is full of good recommendations, but short on descriptors. For some descriptions, lets turn to the equally venerable Lindsey West:
Higgins-
Higgins is very good and has delicious local northwesty food but is probably not a good place to take your family for graduation if you have rowdy relatives and or small children in the group. It does have good vegetarian options though.
Portland City Grill-
Portland City Grill offers a fantastic view of Portland and really good drinks (helpful for family visits) The food is good but not good enough for how much it costs and the ambience, while elegant is fairly bland. One of my friends, who works at another restaurant in town said they hire hot girls to sit in the lobby to attract customers. If this is true i missed them. Not so much for vegetarians since they focus on steak and seafood.
Southpark-
I really like Southpark. They have wonderful seafood and a really cool space. It is more casual (in that yuppie kind of way) than higgins and would be fine for rowdy relatives or small children, not so good for vegetarians, although I think they do have options.
Rivers-
Rivers is right on the edge of the west side of the river and looks onto Ross island. Their food is very good and all local and organicky. They have a 12 person semi-private dining room for big groups and the service is really friendly. It is also attached to the Avalon hotel and spa, which parents might be excited about.
I (we're back to the gastronaut here) wholeheartedly endorse all these recommendations. All of these places take reservations for large groups, however many of the smaller ones will turn you down if you have a Mormon sized extended family (unless you want to rent the whole joint- it's not unheard of). Many families have strange eaters, funky needs, etc. so I'm offering my services case by case. If you need help picking a spot, e-mail gastronaut@reed.edu and I'll give advice.
on another note, i'd like to thank you readers and the Quest for hosting my column all year. It has been a truly strange experience to have readers for my diatribes- I hope i've done a wisp of good for someone, somewhere, somehow. If not, fuck it. I had a good time. Eat well, live well, and love each other.
make sure you tip well, I may well be making your food.
peace out.
Gastronaut
Graduation dinners. The last chance you get to fleece your parents and well-wishing family members out of every dime you can. I'll spare you on the rhetoric, and get down to cases.
I wrote to an acquaintance of mine, the venerable Jim Dixon (a.k.a the only food writer in Portland worth reading. Yes Roger, that includes you) and this is what he sent me:
clarklewis
Gotham Building Tavern (ripe's new spot, open next week, reservations online at ripepdx.com, I think)
Navarre (a little more casual)
Tabla
Higgins
Paley's Place
Wildwood
Genoa (for the serious eater)
The Heathman
Caprial's (close to Reed, too)
Gino's (good and big quantities, and I know that appeals to the post-grad)
Rivers (in the Avalon Hotel, or whatever it's called now, off Macadam...Rollie Weisen is very good)
Basta's (a perennially overlooked favorite)
Jim's hasty e-mail is full of good recommendations, but short on descriptors. For some descriptions, lets turn to the equally venerable Lindsey West:
Higgins-
Higgins is very good and has delicious local northwesty food but is probably not a good place to take your family for graduation if you have rowdy relatives and or small children in the group. It does have good vegetarian options though.
Portland City Grill-
Portland City Grill offers a fantastic view of Portland and really good drinks (helpful for family visits) The food is good but not good enough for how much it costs and the ambience, while elegant is fairly bland. One of my friends, who works at another restaurant in town said they hire hot girls to sit in the lobby to attract customers. If this is true i missed them. Not so much for vegetarians since they focus on steak and seafood.
Southpark-
I really like Southpark. They have wonderful seafood and a really cool space. It is more casual (in that yuppie kind of way) than higgins and would be fine for rowdy relatives or small children, not so good for vegetarians, although I think they do have options.
Rivers-
Rivers is right on the edge of the west side of the river and looks onto Ross island. Their food is very good and all local and organicky. They have a 12 person semi-private dining room for big groups and the service is really friendly. It is also attached to the Avalon hotel and spa, which parents might be excited about.
I (we're back to the gastronaut here) wholeheartedly endorse all these recommendations. All of these places take reservations for large groups, however many of the smaller ones will turn you down if you have a Mormon sized extended family (unless you want to rent the whole joint- it's not unheard of). Many families have strange eaters, funky needs, etc. so I'm offering my services case by case. If you need help picking a spot, e-mail gastronaut@reed.edu and I'll give advice.
on another note, i'd like to thank you readers and the Quest for hosting my column all year. It has been a truly strange experience to have readers for my diatribes- I hope i've done a wisp of good for someone, somewhere, somehow. If not, fuck it. I had a good time. Eat well, live well, and love each other.
make sure you tip well, I may well be making your food.
peace out.
Gastronaut
coffeeshops and portland. = chicken and egg?
gastronaut 20.
I continue to amaze myself, because this is my twentieth column. You know how I manage to write a thesis, do my classwork, and contribute to the Quest each week? Coffee. it's the breakfast of champions, yo. We run on it. If we, as a generation, hadn't been named a thousand times over, we could be the starbucks generation. Coffee has been surfing the wave of gourmet revolution that has been sweeping the nation. Remember the good old days when you didn't know Emeril Lagasse and Martha Stewart was confined to a magazine, not a minimum-security prison? It all really started with grunge and the Seattle Latte.
Now, it's easier to find a latte than a burger. What was once Nescafé nation is now rife with roasteries, coffee shops, and those annoying little roadside stands that look like overgrown port-o-johns.
The best part of coffee culture is that save the green-headed monster and a few others, coffee shops tend to be local operations. Coffee-culture is a big part of Portland, and a really fun way to see the city. Neighborhood coffeeshops are great ways to get the feel for different neighborhoods here. Portland is, at its core, a city of neighborhoods. They are also often great places to study, hang out, apply for jobs, and neutral places for all you crazies who do that friendster-dating thing. Of course, this list will be incomplete. Nevertheless, here are some places that serve up a mean cuppa joe:
southeast
K & F cafe: 2706 SE 26TH Ave. K & F is in the heart of the tiny Clinton St. district. They make great coffee in a really funky neighborhood. Spitting distance away is the Red and Black Cafe, which is there just for you crazy anarchists. There is even a starbucks across the street towards which you can channel you anger while you sip your joe.
Just up division is the closest outpost of the Stumptown variety, on 45th and Division. (there is another on 3rd and Belmont) If there were a Nobel Prize for coffee, they'd win it. Damn fine coffee, it is. Hipster-filled to the point of nausea, it is. Worth it anyway? yes. Tiny's, on the corner of 12th and Hawthorne, is a great little place, with free Wi-fi and pinball. PINBALL. There are a ton of other places on Hawthorne as well. There is the Pied Cow, which is a hooka-coffee-date place, so i wouldn't try studying there.
North/Northeast
There is Beulahland on NE 28th, just off Burnside. When you go there, ask about the name. Speaking of Burnside, on the corner at 23rd is the Burnside Bean coffee club. Another dessert and coffee place is Marsee baking, 935 NE Broadway St. There is the Fresh Pot, on Mississippi, and a really funky one on Alberta and 30th that I can't find in the yellow pages anywhere.
I'd go on to the other side of the river, but no one needs more than 500 words on coffee. least of all me. I've got an ulcer.
I continue to amaze myself, because this is my twentieth column. You know how I manage to write a thesis, do my classwork, and contribute to the Quest each week? Coffee. it's the breakfast of champions, yo. We run on it. If we, as a generation, hadn't been named a thousand times over, we could be the starbucks generation. Coffee has been surfing the wave of gourmet revolution that has been sweeping the nation. Remember the good old days when you didn't know Emeril Lagasse and Martha Stewart was confined to a magazine, not a minimum-security prison? It all really started with grunge and the Seattle Latte.
Now, it's easier to find a latte than a burger. What was once Nescafé nation is now rife with roasteries, coffee shops, and those annoying little roadside stands that look like overgrown port-o-johns.
The best part of coffee culture is that save the green-headed monster and a few others, coffee shops tend to be local operations. Coffee-culture is a big part of Portland, and a really fun way to see the city. Neighborhood coffeeshops are great ways to get the feel for different neighborhoods here. Portland is, at its core, a city of neighborhoods. They are also often great places to study, hang out, apply for jobs, and neutral places for all you crazies who do that friendster-dating thing. Of course, this list will be incomplete. Nevertheless, here are some places that serve up a mean cuppa joe:
southeast
K & F cafe: 2706 SE 26TH Ave. K & F is in the heart of the tiny Clinton St. district. They make great coffee in a really funky neighborhood. Spitting distance away is the Red and Black Cafe, which is there just for you crazy anarchists. There is even a starbucks across the street towards which you can channel you anger while you sip your joe.
Just up division is the closest outpost of the Stumptown variety, on 45th and Division. (there is another on 3rd and Belmont) If there were a Nobel Prize for coffee, they'd win it. Damn fine coffee, it is. Hipster-filled to the point of nausea, it is. Worth it anyway? yes. Tiny's, on the corner of 12th and Hawthorne, is a great little place, with free Wi-fi and pinball. PINBALL. There are a ton of other places on Hawthorne as well. There is the Pied Cow, which is a hooka-coffee-date place, so i wouldn't try studying there.
North/Northeast
There is Beulahland on NE 28th, just off Burnside. When you go there, ask about the name. Speaking of Burnside, on the corner at 23rd is the Burnside Bean coffee club. Another dessert and coffee place is Marsee baking, 935 NE Broadway St. There is the Fresh Pot, on Mississippi, and a really funky one on Alberta and 30th that I can't find in the yellow pages anywhere.
I'd go on to the other side of the river, but no one needs more than 500 words on coffee. least of all me. I've got an ulcer.
so you're out of a dorm... now you need a kitchen (april 2005)
gastro 19
So kids, some of you are moving out of your dorms and into the scaaaaaary world of communal living in a house you can't burn down without terrible consequences. The problem is, you don't have a damn thing to put in all those clean new cabinets, and the once common practice of assuming leases from exiting seniors is less common, so inheriting cut-rate kitchen supplies doesn't happen as much as you'd like. I have led many a startled sophomore through the process of outfitting a kitchen, so I'll bestow a little advice upon you youngsters.
Things you absolutely positively need to feed yourself:
1) A large cheap stockpot. You need this because you will be eating pasta and noodles for most of your college career. You need a large one because noodles need more space to cook than things like Ramen. Italian pasta people have a simple formula: 1lb dry noodles to 4 qts of water. Pasta needs space (p.s. salty water is good. It should 'taste like the sea' but only in the abstract sense of being salty, not full of trash and fecal matter.) Also, once you get old and wise, you'll realize that large batches of soup will save your life.
2) A cast iron pan. I warned all of you about Teflon many moons ago. A cast iron pan will put up with your neglect and misuse, and none of you are going to drop the coin necessary to get a worthwhile non-stick pan. Plus, cast iron can be found at any garage sale, thrift store, or better yet, in the back of your parent's cupboards.
3) Knife. You only really need one knife, if you're good with a blade. I'm going to assume none of you are, (even those of you who think you may be) so you actually need 3: a chefs knife, or something with a large enough blade so that you don't bank your knuckles slicing onions, a serrated blade for bagels and bread, and a paring knife for the small stuff. Only one of these need be quality, the chef's knife, because it's the only one you're not going to throw away when it gets dull. Knife sharpening is complicated, and much too much of a task to cover in a column, so I'll dig up some web sources for next week.
4) A peeler: you thought you'd never forget a peeler. But chances are if I hadn't reminded you, you'd be wasting your life peeling potatoes with a bird's beak.
5) Can opener, corkscrew and cutting board: duh... I suggest plastic cutting boards: they're easier to clean and nicer to your knife-edge, which translates to less sharpening.
6) Rice cooker: rice is a finicky thing to master. Take the worry out of it and buy a cheap one.
Things you don't need, but think you do:
1) A Wok. Unless you have a natural gas jet engine, there ain't no point. The appeal of a wok is that the curves surface is uniformly hot, and thus no matter where the food touches the surface, it's exposed to the same heat. This does not compute on an electric stove, or on a low BTU gas stove. Trust me; just use your cast iron. You can make Asian food in a normal pan
2) A food processor: trust me. If you've got the time to put one to good use, you're not doing your homework. If you really want something that 'only a food processor can do,' remind yourself that whatever recipe you want to make is a lot older than plastics and electricity. Get a mortar and pestle from an Asian market (around $20) and take your aggression out by doing it the old fashion way.
3) Anything smaller than a 1qt saucepan: what are you going to do, make a delicate saffron butter sauce? Fuck off and save your money.
Places to go:
Pans: thrift stores
knives: George and Son cutlery, Anzen, or Freddy''s if you're really not picky. The internet is a possibility, but DONT BUY SOMETHING YOU HAVEN"T HELD IN YOUR HAND. That's a great way to end up with a dangerous knife.
Remember, this is stuff that is supposed to wear out or be given away in 3 years. There is no reason to lug a $10 rice cooker cross-country.
So kids, some of you are moving out of your dorms and into the scaaaaaary world of communal living in a house you can't burn down without terrible consequences. The problem is, you don't have a damn thing to put in all those clean new cabinets, and the once common practice of assuming leases from exiting seniors is less common, so inheriting cut-rate kitchen supplies doesn't happen as much as you'd like. I have led many a startled sophomore through the process of outfitting a kitchen, so I'll bestow a little advice upon you youngsters.
Things you absolutely positively need to feed yourself:
1) A large cheap stockpot. You need this because you will be eating pasta and noodles for most of your college career. You need a large one because noodles need more space to cook than things like Ramen. Italian pasta people have a simple formula: 1lb dry noodles to 4 qts of water. Pasta needs space (p.s. salty water is good. It should 'taste like the sea' but only in the abstract sense of being salty, not full of trash and fecal matter.) Also, once you get old and wise, you'll realize that large batches of soup will save your life.
2) A cast iron pan. I warned all of you about Teflon many moons ago. A cast iron pan will put up with your neglect and misuse, and none of you are going to drop the coin necessary to get a worthwhile non-stick pan. Plus, cast iron can be found at any garage sale, thrift store, or better yet, in the back of your parent's cupboards.
3) Knife. You only really need one knife, if you're good with a blade. I'm going to assume none of you are, (even those of you who think you may be) so you actually need 3: a chefs knife, or something with a large enough blade so that you don't bank your knuckles slicing onions, a serrated blade for bagels and bread, and a paring knife for the small stuff. Only one of these need be quality, the chef's knife, because it's the only one you're not going to throw away when it gets dull. Knife sharpening is complicated, and much too much of a task to cover in a column, so I'll dig up some web sources for next week.
4) A peeler: you thought you'd never forget a peeler. But chances are if I hadn't reminded you, you'd be wasting your life peeling potatoes with a bird's beak.
5) Can opener, corkscrew and cutting board: duh... I suggest plastic cutting boards: they're easier to clean and nicer to your knife-edge, which translates to less sharpening.
6) Rice cooker: rice is a finicky thing to master. Take the worry out of it and buy a cheap one.
Things you don't need, but think you do:
1) A Wok. Unless you have a natural gas jet engine, there ain't no point. The appeal of a wok is that the curves surface is uniformly hot, and thus no matter where the food touches the surface, it's exposed to the same heat. This does not compute on an electric stove, or on a low BTU gas stove. Trust me; just use your cast iron. You can make Asian food in a normal pan
2) A food processor: trust me. If you've got the time to put one to good use, you're not doing your homework. If you really want something that 'only a food processor can do,' remind yourself that whatever recipe you want to make is a lot older than plastics and electricity. Get a mortar and pestle from an Asian market (around $20) and take your aggression out by doing it the old fashion way.
3) Anything smaller than a 1qt saucepan: what are you going to do, make a delicate saffron butter sauce? Fuck off and save your money.
Places to go:
Pans: thrift stores
knives: George and Son cutlery, Anzen, or Freddy''s if you're really not picky. The internet is a possibility, but DONT BUY SOMETHING YOU HAVEN"T HELD IN YOUR HAND. That's a great way to end up with a dangerous knife.
Remember, this is stuff that is supposed to wear out or be given away in 3 years. There is no reason to lug a $10 rice cooker cross-country.
food porn, or how to teach yourself to cook (march 2005)
gastronaut 18
A few of you kind souls came to my rescue and sent in suggestions for things to cover, but first, i feel it necessary to address the ones that are not covered in this column. To the person who wants a review of Fat Albert's, the next time I manage something other than 40oz of coffee for breakfast, it's at the top of the list. To the person who wishes i'd leave food writing to the talented professionals, I know it's you Roger: you have offended my honor and I challenge you to a duel. To the girl who sent me panties... as touching as that gesture is, it's creepy, especially by e-mail.
One kind soul suggested I publish my bagel recipe. I'd love to, but that'd be plagiarism, since it isn't really mine but from a fantastic cookbook called The Bread Baker's Apprentice by Peter Reinhart. In order to make his bagels, you have to absorb a hundred pages of wheat wisdom and gluten grandeur from the sage of sourdough before even beginning the exhaustive process. This, however, is a great topic by itself: my columns are equivalent to culinary chicken scratch. What a lot of you need is good, structured advice from a professional. Enter books like Reinhart's (actually he has 4 or 5, and they're all good), the words of the experts. I know that the thought of intense lucubration preceding dinner will get Reedies more than angsty, so I've assembled some print and web sources that will help you answer all those questions you've never bothered to ask because you didn't know where to look.
The Cookbook section of a bookstore is a strange experience: there are dog-eared copies of Fanny Farmer, a million copies of the Frugal Gourmet (his career nose-dived after his michael jackson-style sex scandal) and the antiquated advice of Reed reject James Beard (he was kicked out for being openly gay, of all things) to the newest celebrity cookbooks, which-- like all products produced by celebrities-- are shamelessly produced and are best evaluated on the 'shill continuum'. Then there is the Food porn. Food porn belongs on Jan's coffee table, not in a kitchen. I have a few food porn books, like Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet by Jeff Alford. It is one hot book, but i've never made a recipe from it that i liked.
The really useful ones are hard to find: they are intermixed with the aforementioned poseurs and paperbacks. For those of you who have yet to master Top Ramen or kraft dinner, I recommend How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman. The name is self-explanatory. I'm not in love with this book; i actually disagree with a lot of it, but my problems are pedantic. Bittman has a food column in the New York Times called the Minimalist. He hasn't been laughed off the page, so he can cut muster with the haute cuisinaires of Manhattan.
I am physically incapable of suggesting any bread books other than Reinhart. The man is a fucking genius, and his methods will make your grandma start calling you when her starter doesn't rise right.
If you're one of those people who won't let it go until you understand the how and the why of every dietary debacle, head straight for On Food and Cooking by Howard McGee. It is the bible of food science. Yes, i see the irony in the last sentence.
As for sweeter baking methods, i'm not the person to ask. But Gastro, you're thinking, what about good vegetarian cookbooks? There aren't any. They're worthless. how to make meatless cuisine is the dumbest thing ever. Want vegetarian food? leave out the meat. You don't need your own cookbook. Vegetarian cookbooks are infamously poorly researched, and are pretty much guaranteed to leave you with unpalatable products. The Millennium Restaurant Cookbooks, however, are fabulous, but they have a steep learning curve, so they're not recommended for people without a vita-mix and a food dehydrator, which none of you have.
I really can't take more of the Quest's precious inches with more specific recommendations, so i'll point you to the internet experts:
http://www.egullet.org is an online community full of food-experts of all varieties, people who think they are, guest Q&A luminaries (most recently Eric Asimov) and foodies of all denominations. The moderators and management do a pretty good job of containing the floating ego-blimps, and their online 'culinary institute' is a great resource for learners.
http://www.epicurious.com: This is the base community of Gourmet Magazine. i hate them. you don't have to.
I love cooking, at http://ilx.wh3rd.net/newquestions.php?board=98 is a nice, small place to ask silly questions. For restaurant reviews/recommendations, there are three places I go:
http://chowhound.com
http://portland.citysearch.com (a great source for the practicalities too, like directions)
http://portlandfood.org
Call for help: I am embarking on the rather exhaustive process of creating a good list of restaurants for those graduation dinners. Anyone with recommendations or opinions on restaurants that should (or shouldn't) be on the list, send 'em all my way!
--gastronaut out
A few of you kind souls came to my rescue and sent in suggestions for things to cover, but first, i feel it necessary to address the ones that are not covered in this column. To the person who wants a review of Fat Albert's, the next time I manage something other than 40oz of coffee for breakfast, it's at the top of the list. To the person who wishes i'd leave food writing to the talented professionals, I know it's you Roger: you have offended my honor and I challenge you to a duel. To the girl who sent me panties... as touching as that gesture is, it's creepy, especially by e-mail.
One kind soul suggested I publish my bagel recipe. I'd love to, but that'd be plagiarism, since it isn't really mine but from a fantastic cookbook called The Bread Baker's Apprentice by Peter Reinhart. In order to make his bagels, you have to absorb a hundred pages of wheat wisdom and gluten grandeur from the sage of sourdough before even beginning the exhaustive process. This, however, is a great topic by itself: my columns are equivalent to culinary chicken scratch. What a lot of you need is good, structured advice from a professional. Enter books like Reinhart's (actually he has 4 or 5, and they're all good), the words of the experts. I know that the thought of intense lucubration preceding dinner will get Reedies more than angsty, so I've assembled some print and web sources that will help you answer all those questions you've never bothered to ask because you didn't know where to look.
The Cookbook section of a bookstore is a strange experience: there are dog-eared copies of Fanny Farmer, a million copies of the Frugal Gourmet (his career nose-dived after his michael jackson-style sex scandal) and the antiquated advice of Reed reject James Beard (he was kicked out for being openly gay, of all things) to the newest celebrity cookbooks, which-- like all products produced by celebrities-- are shamelessly produced and are best evaluated on the 'shill continuum'. Then there is the Food porn. Food porn belongs on Jan's coffee table, not in a kitchen. I have a few food porn books, like Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet by Jeff Alford. It is one hot book, but i've never made a recipe from it that i liked.
The really useful ones are hard to find: they are intermixed with the aforementioned poseurs and paperbacks. For those of you who have yet to master Top Ramen or kraft dinner, I recommend How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman. The name is self-explanatory. I'm not in love with this book; i actually disagree with a lot of it, but my problems are pedantic. Bittman has a food column in the New York Times called the Minimalist. He hasn't been laughed off the page, so he can cut muster with the haute cuisinaires of Manhattan.
I am physically incapable of suggesting any bread books other than Reinhart. The man is a fucking genius, and his methods will make your grandma start calling you when her starter doesn't rise right.
If you're one of those people who won't let it go until you understand the how and the why of every dietary debacle, head straight for On Food and Cooking by Howard McGee. It is the bible of food science. Yes, i see the irony in the last sentence.
As for sweeter baking methods, i'm not the person to ask. But Gastro, you're thinking, what about good vegetarian cookbooks? There aren't any. They're worthless. how to make meatless cuisine is the dumbest thing ever. Want vegetarian food? leave out the meat. You don't need your own cookbook. Vegetarian cookbooks are infamously poorly researched, and are pretty much guaranteed to leave you with unpalatable products. The Millennium Restaurant Cookbooks, however, are fabulous, but they have a steep learning curve, so they're not recommended for people without a vita-mix and a food dehydrator, which none of you have.
I really can't take more of the Quest's precious inches with more specific recommendations, so i'll point you to the internet experts:
http://www.egullet.org is an online community full of food-experts of all varieties, people who think they are, guest Q&A luminaries (most recently Eric Asimov) and foodies of all denominations. The moderators and management do a pretty good job of containing the floating ego-blimps, and their online 'culinary institute' is a great resource for learners.
http://www.epicurious.com: This is the base community of Gourmet Magazine. i hate them. you don't have to.
I love cooking, at http://ilx.wh3rd.net/newquestions.php?board=98 is a nice, small place to ask silly questions. For restaurant reviews/recommendations, there are three places I go:
http://chowhound.com
http://portland.citysearch.com (a great source for the practicalities too, like directions)
http://portlandfood.org
Call for help: I am embarking on the rather exhaustive process of creating a good list of restaurants for those graduation dinners. Anyone with recommendations or opinions on restaurants that should (or shouldn't) be on the list, send 'em all my way!
--gastronaut out
oi... a column devoid of inspiration (march 2005)
gastronaut 17
my god, I have absolutely nothing to say. Nothing. Not a god damn thing, other than expressing my utter and complete confusion over 'medieval night (knight?)' that took over commons on thursday night. While i respect the desire to 'mix things up' and try jiggle the freshman out of their corn-oil and rockstar induced aphasia, i hardly think that turning Commons into a theme restaurant that previously starred in the Simpsons Divorce Episode #1 and three Rick Moranis movies is the way to go. For the record, the only missing utensil from the era was the fork; knives and spoons were as common as the plague and inbred royalty.
In other news, we must mourn the loss of a great and close friend of the Reed community: Pizza Timé. Now, I know that it technically hasn't existed for a while now, having been sold to the luminaries who thought they could compete with Pizzacato for the Gourmet market, Rosetta Pizza has shut its doors and cancelled their phone line.
As of today, friday the 25th, I am declaring Tani's dead. The coming soon sign has been ubiquitous since that stripmall was completed, but nothing's doing. I'm actually kind of glad about that; the prospect of tanning spray in my inari isn't appealing.
I have received numerous warnings recently about Assaggio, the Italian restaurant on 13th in Sellwood. I've never been, but these comments are pretty scathing, and the fact that Assaggio isn't actually a word in Italian, I'd suggest staying the course on 13th and going to Portofinos. Cross this one off the places-to-take-your-parents list.
Come on people... i can't keep pulling stuff outta my ass every week.
my god, I have absolutely nothing to say. Nothing. Not a god damn thing, other than expressing my utter and complete confusion over 'medieval night (knight?)' that took over commons on thursday night. While i respect the desire to 'mix things up' and try jiggle the freshman out of their corn-oil and rockstar induced aphasia, i hardly think that turning Commons into a theme restaurant that previously starred in the Simpsons Divorce Episode #1 and three Rick Moranis movies is the way to go. For the record, the only missing utensil from the era was the fork; knives and spoons were as common as the plague and inbred royalty.
In other news, we must mourn the loss of a great and close friend of the Reed community: Pizza Timé. Now, I know that it technically hasn't existed for a while now, having been sold to the luminaries who thought they could compete with Pizzacato for the Gourmet market, Rosetta Pizza has shut its doors and cancelled their phone line.
As of today, friday the 25th, I am declaring Tani's dead. The coming soon sign has been ubiquitous since that stripmall was completed, but nothing's doing. I'm actually kind of glad about that; the prospect of tanning spray in my inari isn't appealing.
I have received numerous warnings recently about Assaggio, the Italian restaurant on 13th in Sellwood. I've never been, but these comments are pretty scathing, and the fact that Assaggio isn't actually a word in Italian, I'd suggest staying the course on 13th and going to Portofinos. Cross this one off the places-to-take-your-parents list.
Come on people... i can't keep pulling stuff outta my ass every week.
friends and food comas
Gastronaut 15 as usual, make up a better title.
Now is about the time that everyone stops cooking. Come on now admit it. You’ve been shopping less, eating things that either: cook in 5 minutes, are from the scrounge line, the bookstore, or if you are avoiding the last mess you left in your meager dorm kitchen. It happens to all of us. Coffee has returned to its status as your largest food group, and truth be told, most of us forget to eat pretty often.
Somewhere, in these painfully sunny days, which we forsake for the bowels of the library, you need to get the fuck outta dodge for a while.
Go eat somewhere you haven’t been to before. Go FAR away. Remember, if the joint is across town, your break is even longer. Lounging on a bus with a friend and a food coma is something grand that will improve anyone’s day.
If that isn’t enough, there are many interesting restaurant experiences to behold in this great city. Some of these are cheap and funky, some are a little pricey, but worth it, unless I’ve never been— I wouldn’t lie about it now, would I?
I’ve got some selected places that I’ve organized by travel time, one way, by bus.
1) Yoko’s sushi (2878 SE Gladstone St): It was once reported to me that Yoko, the owner, is Ween’s favorite person. Or at least she is their favorite sushimistress. Yes, sushimistress. There are so few female sushi chefs trained in Japan, I’m not sure English has made up a term for them. The Japanese Food machismo—which is strong and apparent if you’ve ever witnessed Iron Chef—decrees, among other things, that women ‘warm’ raw fish and destroy its ‘freshness.’ Sigh…. Anyway, her joint is funky, very newbie friendly, and it has an extensive list of cooked dishes for the squeamish and unadventurous. I personally think there should be a dunce hat for people who avoid raw things. Shame them into compliance, that’s what I say. Ha! Bus time: Walk, you lazy bastard. It’ll do you good.
Oh, if you live a vacuous existence, you will LOVE the C-bar next door. If you can stand it, wait for your table there, they’ll call you ‘a la' the Delta/Lutz
2) The funny Buddhist vegetarian restaurant on 84th and Division. I don't know it's name, but that doesn't matter. It’s in a house. The owners appear to be pretty hardcore Buddhists. The place makes Vietnamese Gluten-meat concoctions. The fun part is taking a vegetarian somewhere where they can safely be completely fucking bewildered by the menu, and then point at something. CHEAP LUNCH. Bus time: 30.
3)Dots – (2521 SE Clinton St) It’s like scrounging at the Lutz, as David Lynch would see it. Cheap but watery drinks, greasy French fries, funky black velvet art. Vegan options. Fuzzy wallpaper. Cash/check only. Bus time: maybe 20?
4 and 5) Vegans, heads up. There are two new vegetarian places open downtown. I have not been to either, but they are: Veganopolis (412 SW Fourth Street
Portland, Oregon 97205) which is on the internet: I have recon coming soon; I’ll get back to you. Blossoming Lotus café is inside the Yoga in the Pearl location on NW Davis between 9th and 10th. The Chef, and sole employee as far as I know, is a Reed alum, and one funny dude, who can cook to beat the band. Bus Time: 30-40 minutes.
6) Clarklewis (1001 SE Water Ave): Go nuts. 2004 restaurant of the year. Haven’t been myself, but I’ve heard it’s every hipster foodie’s dream. GUARD YOUR EARS, it is a very noisy joint. Bus Time: 40
7) MINT—I’ve heard nothing but good things. If you’re bussing it, call ahead, and go with someone whose company you truly enjoy, it’s a long one. Bus Time: 1 hour
8) A very funny person told me to suggest the Hooters in Beaverton. There. I did it. Happy? Mutter mutter mutter mutter mutter… damn kids….. mutter,,,think they’re so funny….. mutter
9) Syun Izakaya. This is the monster. If you need to diffuse the existential crisis with a long, meditative ride on a train and the best Japanese food in the state, head to Syun. The name literally means ‘fresh seasonal sake pub.’ Fish are flown from Tsukiji, the famous Tokyo market, EVERYDAY. It’s a two-hour train ride on the Red line, but it’s very little walking from the train. Hillsboro is a dose of suburbia, and if you watch Beaverton fly by, you return with a renewed appreciation that we do not live on the other side of those hills there yonder. Reservations are a MUST on weekends, but considering travel time, you’d be stupid not to call ahead. You can dooo iiiit! Bus/train time 90 min to 2 hr.
Now is about the time that everyone stops cooking. Come on now admit it. You’ve been shopping less, eating things that either: cook in 5 minutes, are from the scrounge line, the bookstore, or if you are avoiding the last mess you left in your meager dorm kitchen. It happens to all of us. Coffee has returned to its status as your largest food group, and truth be told, most of us forget to eat pretty often.
Somewhere, in these painfully sunny days, which we forsake for the bowels of the library, you need to get the fuck outta dodge for a while.
Go eat somewhere you haven’t been to before. Go FAR away. Remember, if the joint is across town, your break is even longer. Lounging on a bus with a friend and a food coma is something grand that will improve anyone’s day.
If that isn’t enough, there are many interesting restaurant experiences to behold in this great city. Some of these are cheap and funky, some are a little pricey, but worth it, unless I’ve never been— I wouldn’t lie about it now, would I?
I’ve got some selected places that I’ve organized by travel time, one way, by bus.
1) Yoko’s sushi (2878 SE Gladstone St): It was once reported to me that Yoko, the owner, is Ween’s favorite person. Or at least she is their favorite sushimistress. Yes, sushimistress. There are so few female sushi chefs trained in Japan, I’m not sure English has made up a term for them. The Japanese Food machismo—which is strong and apparent if you’ve ever witnessed Iron Chef—decrees, among other things, that women ‘warm’ raw fish and destroy its ‘freshness.’ Sigh…. Anyway, her joint is funky, very newbie friendly, and it has an extensive list of cooked dishes for the squeamish and unadventurous. I personally think there should be a dunce hat for people who avoid raw things. Shame them into compliance, that’s what I say. Ha! Bus time: Walk, you lazy bastard. It’ll do you good.
Oh, if you live a vacuous existence, you will LOVE the C-bar next door. If you can stand it, wait for your table there, they’ll call you ‘a la' the Delta/Lutz
2) The funny Buddhist vegetarian restaurant on 84th and Division. I don't know it's name, but that doesn't matter. It’s in a house. The owners appear to be pretty hardcore Buddhists. The place makes Vietnamese Gluten-meat concoctions. The fun part is taking a vegetarian somewhere where they can safely be completely fucking bewildered by the menu, and then point at something. CHEAP LUNCH. Bus time: 30.
3)Dots – (2521 SE Clinton St) It’s like scrounging at the Lutz, as David Lynch would see it. Cheap but watery drinks, greasy French fries, funky black velvet art. Vegan options. Fuzzy wallpaper. Cash/check only. Bus time: maybe 20?
4 and 5) Vegans, heads up. There are two new vegetarian places open downtown. I have not been to either, but they are: Veganopolis (412 SW Fourth Street
Portland, Oregon 97205) which is on the internet:
6) Clarklewis (1001 SE Water Ave): Go nuts. 2004 restaurant of the year. Haven’t been myself, but I’ve heard it’s every hipster foodie’s dream. GUARD YOUR EARS, it is a very noisy joint. Bus Time: 40
7) MINT—I’ve heard nothing but good things. If you’re bussing it, call ahead, and go with someone whose company you truly enjoy, it’s a long one. Bus Time: 1 hour
8) A very funny person told me to suggest the Hooters in Beaverton. There. I did it. Happy? Mutter mutter mutter mutter mutter… damn kids….. mutter,,,think they’re so funny….. mutter
9) Syun Izakaya. This is the monster. If you need to diffuse the existential crisis with a long, meditative ride on a train and the best Japanese food in the state, head to Syun. The name literally means ‘fresh seasonal sake pub.’ Fish are flown from Tsukiji, the famous Tokyo market, EVERYDAY. It’s a two-hour train ride on the Red line, but it’s very little walking from the train. Hillsboro is a dose of suburbia, and if you watch Beaverton fly by, you return with a renewed appreciation that we do not live on the other side of those hills there yonder. Reservations are a MUST on weekends, but considering travel time, you’d be stupid not to call ahead. You can dooo iiiit! Bus/train time 90 min to 2 hr.
buffet = spawn of satan (feb 2005)
Gastronaut 14
The strangest thing happened to me a few days ago. I was in a Best Buy, that store with so many blinking, hypnotic lights even the most hardcore anarcho-syndicalist could find themselves dropping a few grand on an HDTV and a satellite system. Anyway, I was perusing the videogames when I stumbled on something I didn’t think could exist. I’m saying unconscionable here. It was a fitness video game. Let me repeat that a FITNESS VIDEO GAME. The premise is as such: Mya, the fitness character, does exercises on the screen, and the player mimics them in real life. The game also offers meal planning, recipes and ‘positive re-enforcement.’
Other than the shockingly backwards logic from which this game sprang, the whole encounter reminded me of the uncomfortable relationship our nation has with food. We look to the very box responsible for our sedentary lifestyles to make us thin again. But Mya is just a symptom of a pandemic. I believe fundamental problem with diners and dining these days comes down to portion size. It is all out of whack. More and more, when I ask people about dining experiences (which I do often… the quest doesn’t finance me, so I get a lot of feedback and intel from other diners instead of draining my bank account going one place 5 times) I hear this a lot: “The food was fantastic, but I expected more for the prices.” This entire nation is gripped with portion-mania, and it is a big problem.
Portions from the Chef’s perspective: portion size is largely a nutritional and economic concern. A good chef will consider a lot of factors: calories, food cost, presentation, plating, and positioning. Remember American Psycho? Those restaurants negate the first category, but must pay attention to the last one, because they would be having 5-8 course meals. How one orders dishes is more important than you think: long meals mean that the chef has control of a diner’s consumption, which includes fat consumption, blood sugar, etc. Portion size is still key because the diner should eat everything on the plate. If there is too much, the restaurant literally throws money away. At the same time, the diner wants to feel they are receiving enough on each plate. Enter tall food and extravagant garnish. There is a system to it all, a French one, but that system is falling apart.
I blame the Buffet. I do. It is spawn of Satan. The mere fact that it no longer bothers most people that places like Golden Corral and Sweet Tomatoes are bursting at the seams with the morbidly obese like so many fattened pigs at the trough scares the fucking hell out of me. Competitive eating is now a sport. ‘All you can eat’ is now treated more like a challenge than a promise. The pasta course, traditionally no more than 400 starch calories, is typically a mammoth serving about equal to three portions. Our eyes have become permanently larger than our stomachs. Even in the land of small servings and multiple courses, the all you can eat concept has reared it’s ugly head: the ‘small plates’ phenomenon, borrowed from tapas, encourages the same kind of unchecked consumption. We’ve convinced ourselves we’re satisfied only when the plate is clean and the belt unbuckled. Anything short of that is not worth the money.
The strangest thing happened to me a few days ago. I was in a Best Buy, that store with so many blinking, hypnotic lights even the most hardcore anarcho-syndicalist could find themselves dropping a few grand on an HDTV and a satellite system. Anyway, I was perusing the videogames when I stumbled on something I didn’t think could exist. I’m saying unconscionable here. It was a fitness video game. Let me repeat that a FITNESS VIDEO GAME. The premise is as such: Mya, the fitness character, does exercises on the screen, and the player mimics them in real life. The game also offers meal planning, recipes and ‘positive re-enforcement.’
Other than the shockingly backwards logic from which this game sprang, the whole encounter reminded me of the uncomfortable relationship our nation has with food. We look to the very box responsible for our sedentary lifestyles to make us thin again. But Mya is just a symptom of a pandemic. I believe fundamental problem with diners and dining these days comes down to portion size. It is all out of whack. More and more, when I ask people about dining experiences (which I do often… the quest doesn’t finance me, so I get a lot of feedback and intel from other diners instead of draining my bank account going one place 5 times) I hear this a lot: “The food was fantastic, but I expected more for the prices.” This entire nation is gripped with portion-mania, and it is a big problem.
Portions from the Chef’s perspective: portion size is largely a nutritional and economic concern. A good chef will consider a lot of factors: calories, food cost, presentation, plating, and positioning. Remember American Psycho? Those restaurants negate the first category, but must pay attention to the last one, because they would be having 5-8 course meals. How one orders dishes is more important than you think: long meals mean that the chef has control of a diner’s consumption, which includes fat consumption, blood sugar, etc. Portion size is still key because the diner should eat everything on the plate. If there is too much, the restaurant literally throws money away. At the same time, the diner wants to feel they are receiving enough on each plate. Enter tall food and extravagant garnish. There is a system to it all, a French one, but that system is falling apart.
I blame the Buffet. I do. It is spawn of Satan. The mere fact that it no longer bothers most people that places like Golden Corral and Sweet Tomatoes are bursting at the seams with the morbidly obese like so many fattened pigs at the trough scares the fucking hell out of me. Competitive eating is now a sport. ‘All you can eat’ is now treated more like a challenge than a promise. The pasta course, traditionally no more than 400 starch calories, is typically a mammoth serving about equal to three portions. Our eyes have become permanently larger than our stomachs. Even in the land of small servings and multiple courses, the all you can eat concept has reared it’s ugly head: the ‘small plates’ phenomenon, borrowed from tapas, encourages the same kind of unchecked consumption. We’ve convinced ourselves we’re satisfied only when the plate is clean and the belt unbuckled. Anything short of that is not worth the money.
its la-arb its la-arb (Jan 2005)
The Gastronaut returns (as usual, come up with something witty)
Hey kids, I’m back for another semester of food and food related drivel. I don’t really feel like writing too much this week, so I’m going to run down a little bit of food news and new restaurants (well, at least new to me) from our little ’hood.
Sunday: The funky little breakfast spot in the old kupie kone has hit its stride; portion sizes are now predictable and appropriate and the service is smooth. I still don’t like the garage sale furniture; it seems as though their attempt at hipster chic went a bit too far and they’ve landed squarely in ghetto-fabulous territory. Still, it’s a walking distance hangover breakfast that is on par with or better than the Hawthorne/Belmont breakfast circuit, which in my opinion, has been going downhill for years. They get extra credit for brewing strong coffee. I’m serious, their coffee is Stumptown, and it’s about as strong as I like it… any stronger and you could turn the mug over and not lose a drop.
Now that the Bybee bridge is back in action, and ugly as sin, I feel it necessary to remind you of some choice spots a skip or a jump further a field from milwaukie row.
Portofinos is an oft-endorsed jersey-style Italian restaurant. Think red sauce, meatballs, the works, and every imaginable ‘a la parmigiana.’ The last time I was there the pasta was homemade. I love homemade pasta so much, I nearly cried. Okay, that’s hyperbole, but still, it is an extra step that so few restaurants do not take.
Sweet Basil Thai is another prime spot on 13th. A reedie, who shall remain anonymous, has been on the line there for a few months, and will vouch for their catering to vegan/vegetarian diets. Their house special curry is an interesting, and delicious marriage of red curry and peanut sauce. Their best dish happens to be their vegetarian take on my favorite Thai dish of all time. It’s so good I ripped of Ren and Stimpy:
Its larb, its larb, its rice its chili its lime
Its larb, its larb, its better than nice it’s divine!
Sweet Basil makes their veggie larb out of Portobello mushrooms. Hot damn it’s good. Larb also has the distinction of being one of the few foodstuffs I can think of that can be used as a verb: I larbed my leftover chicken today. Anther member of this group is curry. If you can think of some others, I’d like to hear them: Gastronaut@reed.edu.
Hey kids, I’m back for another semester of food and food related drivel. I don’t really feel like writing too much this week, so I’m going to run down a little bit of food news and new restaurants (well, at least new to me) from our little ’hood.
Sunday: The funky little breakfast spot in the old kupie kone has hit its stride; portion sizes are now predictable and appropriate and the service is smooth. I still don’t like the garage sale furniture; it seems as though their attempt at hipster chic went a bit too far and they’ve landed squarely in ghetto-fabulous territory. Still, it’s a walking distance hangover breakfast that is on par with or better than the Hawthorne/Belmont breakfast circuit, which in my opinion, has been going downhill for years. They get extra credit for brewing strong coffee. I’m serious, their coffee is Stumptown, and it’s about as strong as I like it… any stronger and you could turn the mug over and not lose a drop.
Now that the Bybee bridge is back in action, and ugly as sin, I feel it necessary to remind you of some choice spots a skip or a jump further a field from milwaukie row.
Portofinos is an oft-endorsed jersey-style Italian restaurant. Think red sauce, meatballs, the works, and every imaginable ‘a la parmigiana.’ The last time I was there the pasta was homemade. I love homemade pasta so much, I nearly cried. Okay, that’s hyperbole, but still, it is an extra step that so few restaurants do not take.
Sweet Basil Thai is another prime spot on 13th. A reedie, who shall remain anonymous, has been on the line there for a few months, and will vouch for their catering to vegan/vegetarian diets. Their house special curry is an interesting, and delicious marriage of red curry and peanut sauce. Their best dish happens to be their vegetarian take on my favorite Thai dish of all time. It’s so good I ripped of Ren and Stimpy:
Its larb, its larb, its rice its chili its lime
Its larb, its larb, its better than nice it’s divine!
Sweet Basil makes their veggie larb out of Portobello mushrooms. Hot damn it’s good. Larb also has the distinction of being one of the few foodstuffs I can think of that can be used as a verb: I larbed my leftover chicken today. Anther member of this group is curry. If you can think of some others, I’d like to hear them: Gastronaut@reed.edu.
the bybee bridge re-opens, december 2004
Gastronaut 12
Well kids, this will be the last installment of the Gastronaut for this semester, and I’d like to thank any and all of you who have bothered to read my columns, despite their occasional shitty quality. Long-live last minute writing, right? Anyway, I’ve got a lot of other shit I should be doing right now, so I’ll crank out this one and call it a year.
The bybee bridge has re-opened, so now, dear readers, it’s much less of a pain in the ass to reach the many fine restaurants that dot Milwaukie, from Holgate to Tacoma. I realize that there are many of you who have never wandered that general direction in search of sustenance, so I’ll list off some of the good ones:
Papa Haydn East (5829 SE Milwaukie Ave) and Caprial’s Bistro (7015 SE Milwaukie Ave): Pricy northwest cuisine. Wine lists, waiters who have more expensive pants than you do. I mentioned Papa Haydn in the ‘date’ column three weeks ago. A Reed professor, who shall remain nameless, confessed to me that the only time he’s had fun at Caprial’s was while ‘totally drunk.’ That, and if you’ve ever seen her show on PBS, you’ll want to kill her, not eat her food.
Papaya Thai (7202 SE Milwaukee) & Stickers (6808 SE Milwaukie Ave): I’d pick Stickers over Papaya any day, because Stickers has a much more innovative approach to their food: they actually serve things you can’t get elsewhere, and they have different ideas about the ‘standards’ of south Asian cuisine. The owners of Stickers say their restaurant is based on south Asian street food. Any traveler will tell you, street food is where the fun is.
Springwater Grill (6716 SE Milwaukie Ave), Adobe Rose Café (1634 SE Bybee Blvd), & Taqueria San Felipe (6221 SE Milwaukie Ave): Springwater serves really eclectic food, but the décor is sickeningly southwestern kitch, to the point that I’ve only eaten there once, and I wasn’t greatly impressed. If you’re a good chess player, go beat the bartender and get a free drink. Speaking of southwestern kitsch, Adobe Rose serves ‘New Mexican’ food (in the sense of the state of America, not some kind of Bobby Flay new (modern) Mexican cuisine). I can’t bring myself to eat there. They use the Tohono O’o’dham symbol for ‘boner’ as their sign. I can’t handle it. Someone told me their chili con queso was good. As for San Felipe, it’s the best Mexican food within waking distance of Reed.
Saburos (1667 SE Bybee Blvd): I’ve mentioned Saburos numerous times. It’s nice to have good cheap sushi available again. Visit them.
A cautionary note about Tartine (1621 SE Bybee Blvd): A little birdie (actually, a flock of birdies) informed me that it has changed management, the prices have risen (significantly) and the portions have shrunk (considerably). The Turkish birdie told me his food looked comically small on his oversized plate. Note to any restaurant owners who might read this. If you’re going to chop portion sizes, get new plates. Oh, and quality, service and general atmosphere has suffered as well. (update: Tartine is now closed)
I bid you all goodbye for the winter, and thanks for reading.
Well kids, this will be the last installment of the Gastronaut for this semester, and I’d like to thank any and all of you who have bothered to read my columns, despite their occasional shitty quality. Long-live last minute writing, right? Anyway, I’ve got a lot of other shit I should be doing right now, so I’ll crank out this one and call it a year.
The bybee bridge has re-opened, so now, dear readers, it’s much less of a pain in the ass to reach the many fine restaurants that dot Milwaukie, from Holgate to Tacoma. I realize that there are many of you who have never wandered that general direction in search of sustenance, so I’ll list off some of the good ones:
Papa Haydn East (5829 SE Milwaukie Ave) and Caprial’s Bistro (7015 SE Milwaukie Ave): Pricy northwest cuisine. Wine lists, waiters who have more expensive pants than you do. I mentioned Papa Haydn in the ‘date’ column three weeks ago. A Reed professor, who shall remain nameless, confessed to me that the only time he’s had fun at Caprial’s was while ‘totally drunk.’ That, and if you’ve ever seen her show on PBS, you’ll want to kill her, not eat her food.
Papaya Thai (7202 SE Milwaukee) & Stickers (6808 SE Milwaukie Ave): I’d pick Stickers over Papaya any day, because Stickers has a much more innovative approach to their food: they actually serve things you can’t get elsewhere, and they have different ideas about the ‘standards’ of south Asian cuisine. The owners of Stickers say their restaurant is based on south Asian street food. Any traveler will tell you, street food is where the fun is.
Springwater Grill (6716 SE Milwaukie Ave), Adobe Rose Café (1634 SE Bybee Blvd), & Taqueria San Felipe (6221 SE Milwaukie Ave): Springwater serves really eclectic food, but the décor is sickeningly southwestern kitch, to the point that I’ve only eaten there once, and I wasn’t greatly impressed. If you’re a good chess player, go beat the bartender and get a free drink. Speaking of southwestern kitsch, Adobe Rose serves ‘New Mexican’ food (in the sense of the state of America, not some kind of Bobby Flay new (modern) Mexican cuisine). I can’t bring myself to eat there. They use the Tohono O’o’dham symbol for ‘boner’ as their sign. I can’t handle it. Someone told me their chili con queso was good. As for San Felipe, it’s the best Mexican food within waking distance of Reed.
Saburos (1667 SE Bybee Blvd): I’ve mentioned Saburos numerous times. It’s nice to have good cheap sushi available again. Visit them.
A cautionary note about Tartine (1621 SE Bybee Blvd): A little birdie (actually, a flock of birdies) informed me that it has changed management, the prices have risen (significantly) and the portions have shrunk (considerably). The Turkish birdie told me his food looked comically small on his oversized plate. Note to any restaurant owners who might read this. If you’re going to chop portion sizes, get new plates. Oh, and quality, service and general atmosphere has suffered as well. (update: Tartine is now closed)
I bid you all goodbye for the winter, and thanks for reading.
thanksgiving
Gastronaut 11
Well, I was going to write a column so short and full of useful recipes for Thanksgiving, in hope that it would make up for whatever piece of shit I wrote last week. Then I saw the New York Times, The Oregonian, and the fucking Mercury(?) had taken care of that. So I’ll throw y’all a curveball.
Things that I guarantee will offend someone at a Thanksgiving meal
Okay, you dirty minded people, I’m talking about food, not behavior (or behavior with food). People can be surprisingly passionate about the contents and character of their Thanksgiving meal. Think about it. You know these people. You are one of these people. There is something you’ve got to have every thanksgiving, be it sweet potatoes and cool whip or Turkey cooked in a fat netting (Pepin), wrapped in bacon (Boulud) or covered in a butter soaked cheese-cloth (Child). Taking notes yet?
Tofurkey: Okay, veg-heads, I’m not trashing you. I am, however, warning the general population that tofurkey is essentially stove-top stuffing molded by a hydraulic press. Dogs wont eat it. If you know a vegetarian who likes it, give them a hug. I also discourage Seitan and other gluten products because they are hell on your GI. Remember, you are eating nature’s rubber-bands.
Veg-heads of all kinds, be creative. We’re in root vegetable season. Roasting things is the easiest thing ever. Blow people away at the potluck by bringing mashers of a different sort: Potato and celeriac with port and thyme. Carrots and radishes with sage and white wine; Rutabaga and Turnip with kaffir lime and lemongrass. Just remember to boil things in their skins, peel them when their warm, and don’t overwork the starch lest it become a gluey mass of death.
Creative use of Pumpkin: Be careful ‘round your grandma, but there are some amazing things your can do with pumpkin. Dealing with pumpkin can be a pain in the ass, so get yourself a sharp knife and do all of the prep before you start drinking.
Try sautéing large filet-style chunks of pumpkin in oil of your choice. Add sugar towards the end and dress with mint for a Sicilian touch, or any other combination under the sun. rosemary and garlic would be fantastic. Use high heat oil, so no olive oil.
Or you could make pumpkin risotto: abrorio rice, light colored stock of your choice (you always need more than you think, use any extra as braising/basting liquid or in your mashers), 1 inch dice of pumpkin, assorted other fun things. Risotto is easier than you think. Abrorio rice carries a majority of its complex starch on the outside of the grain, so the essential technique for risotto is ‘bleeding the grain.’ Constant agitation dissolves these starch molecules into the stock as the stock absorbs into the rice, leaving you with a gluey substance that can coat the back of your spoon. A common misconception is that risotto actually requires constant agitation. Untrue, constant agitation will over develop the starch, which can be catastrophic. My method is to stir the risotto vigorously every third time I add more stock. This seems to work for me. To make it a true thanksgiving risotto, one could poach some fresh cranberries in wine and add them right at the end.
Crimes against Pie: if you cannot make a pie crust, Thanksgiving is not the time to learn. Pie crusts, and baking in general, will suffer in wet conditions, which, sadly, is the state of affairs around here. If you want to try, be my guest, but don’t come cryin’ to me. Personally, I don’t fuck with pastry. Not my expertise.
Innovative Stuffing: Depending on your audience, chipotle/hominy stuffing could be a thanksgiving revelation to be remembered for decades, or an excommunicable offense. Think twice before straying from standard recipes, but if you’re friends are game, try something new and different. I’d like to hear any stories of spectacular successes or epic failures. Blitz Gastronaut.
Well, I was going to write a column so short and full of useful recipes for Thanksgiving, in hope that it would make up for whatever piece of shit I wrote last week. Then I saw the New York Times, The Oregonian, and the fucking Mercury(?) had taken care of that. So I’ll throw y’all a curveball.
Things that I guarantee will offend someone at a Thanksgiving meal
Okay, you dirty minded people, I’m talking about food, not behavior (or behavior with food). People can be surprisingly passionate about the contents and character of their Thanksgiving meal. Think about it. You know these people. You are one of these people. There is something you’ve got to have every thanksgiving, be it sweet potatoes and cool whip or Turkey cooked in a fat netting (Pepin), wrapped in bacon (Boulud) or covered in a butter soaked cheese-cloth (Child). Taking notes yet?
Tofurkey: Okay, veg-heads, I’m not trashing you. I am, however, warning the general population that tofurkey is essentially stove-top stuffing molded by a hydraulic press. Dogs wont eat it. If you know a vegetarian who likes it, give them a hug. I also discourage Seitan and other gluten products because they are hell on your GI. Remember, you are eating nature’s rubber-bands.
Veg-heads of all kinds, be creative. We’re in root vegetable season. Roasting things is the easiest thing ever. Blow people away at the potluck by bringing mashers of a different sort: Potato and celeriac with port and thyme. Carrots and radishes with sage and white wine; Rutabaga and Turnip with kaffir lime and lemongrass. Just remember to boil things in their skins, peel them when their warm, and don’t overwork the starch lest it become a gluey mass of death.
Creative use of Pumpkin: Be careful ‘round your grandma, but there are some amazing things your can do with pumpkin. Dealing with pumpkin can be a pain in the ass, so get yourself a sharp knife and do all of the prep before you start drinking.
Try sautéing large filet-style chunks of pumpkin in oil of your choice. Add sugar towards the end and dress with mint for a Sicilian touch, or any other combination under the sun. rosemary and garlic would be fantastic. Use high heat oil, so no olive oil.
Or you could make pumpkin risotto: abrorio rice, light colored stock of your choice (you always need more than you think, use any extra as braising/basting liquid or in your mashers), 1 inch dice of pumpkin, assorted other fun things. Risotto is easier than you think. Abrorio rice carries a majority of its complex starch on the outside of the grain, so the essential technique for risotto is ‘bleeding the grain.’ Constant agitation dissolves these starch molecules into the stock as the stock absorbs into the rice, leaving you with a gluey substance that can coat the back of your spoon. A common misconception is that risotto actually requires constant agitation. Untrue, constant agitation will over develop the starch, which can be catastrophic. My method is to stir the risotto vigorously every third time I add more stock. This seems to work for me. To make it a true thanksgiving risotto, one could poach some fresh cranberries in wine and add them right at the end.
Crimes against Pie: if you cannot make a pie crust, Thanksgiving is not the time to learn. Pie crusts, and baking in general, will suffer in wet conditions, which, sadly, is the state of affairs around here. If you want to try, be my guest, but don’t come cryin’ to me. Personally, I don’t fuck with pastry. Not my expertise.
Innovative Stuffing: Depending on your audience, chipotle/hominy stuffing could be a thanksgiving revelation to be remembered for decades, or an excommunicable offense. Think twice before straying from standard recipes, but if you’re friends are game, try something new and different. I’d like to hear any stories of spectacular successes or epic failures. Blitz Gastronaut.
2am tirade inspired by the Engrish on a chopsticks sleeve
Gastronaut 10
Welcome to Chinese Restaurant.
Please try your Nice Chinese Food with Chopsticks
The traditional and typical of Chinese glonous history and cultual
--the bamboo chopsticks used at commons.
Forgive me for this, dear readers, but much of the essence of ethnic food, any ethnic food, is lost in translation. Feeding oneself and one’s family is a radically different process from continent to continent and culture to culture; beyond quelling the necessity of sustenance, there are few cultural universals from which we can compare and understand the cultures of food outside of our own (which ever that may be). Food is individual as well as communal; there is great difficulty in transmitting the cultural baggage of a set of flavors, or an ingredient, or a technique. I think this baggage is vital information, for when we divorce a food from its roots we end up with less desirable products and lose the cultural exchange. When we dine out at restaurants promising cuisine from a culture not our own, we are essentially committing ourselves to a cultural experience that, for many, will constitute their only contact with that culture.
Tuk under and held firmly
Tnurnb
--step 1 from the same chopsticks
The passionate diners, us (right?), are typically eager to heighten the cultural experience for ourselves; we use the proffered chopsticks in good faith, often to great disadvantage. We (maybe this isn’t a common practice) try to get the menu in the native language, determined to find the most faithful, honest representation of the cuisine. Is that enough? I have developed friendships with restaurants and the people who run them, and I have learned a great deal about what it means to be Chinese in the American restaurant business. For instance, I learned that a side benefit of restaurant ownership is that you can secure a green-card for anyone from your home country, because you can guarantee the US government of their employment. I know I’m in the minority on this one, otherwise the Quest would be full of amateur food writers on crack.
Add second chcostick
Hold it as you hold a pencil
--step 2
Where does the exchange stop? When your meal is over? After the last of the meal has left you? After you throw out the leftovers? Food is not the most effective cultural exchange, but it is pervasive in America today. We should consider the opportunities and dangers carefully, not only when we are dining but when we are cooking as well. Next time you make pasta, take a moment to contemplate the status of pasta in Italian cultures. Italians are famous for being passionate about their food, as I’m sure you are all aware, but think of the consequences and unintended side effects of Pasta. It has been argued that Italy’s factionalized political tradition stems from deep-seeded disagreements about pasta. When was the last time you witnessed a grudge match between Denny’s and IHOP over their flapjacks?
Hold tirst chopstick in originai position
Move the second one up and down
Now you can pick up anything!
--step 3
Food can also act as proxy for embattled peoples. An article published in Gastronomica (the coolest food magazine ever) a year ago detailed the tremendous argument between Israel and the rest of the Middle east about who had the right to call falafel ‘their’ National Snack; Egypt, Jordan and Israel all claim it as their own. In the article, a Palestinian woman is quoted “You’ve taken everything else from us, and now you want out snack food?” Is there a snack food that is indicative of American culture? Is there a snack food that you’d get into a shouting match to defend? For an example closer to home, there is long standing tension over the roots of southern food, which has exploded into a highly charged racial issue in some instances. They’re not your grits, they’re our grits.
This column makes no sense and I know it. If you made it this far, I’m impressed. I wanted to stoke the roaring intellectual fire that is Reed and chuck some embers towards a new pile of kindling. Think about what you eat more. It will be good for you.
Welcome to Chinese Restaurant.
Please try your Nice Chinese Food with Chopsticks
The traditional and typical of Chinese glonous history and cultual
--the bamboo chopsticks used at commons.
Forgive me for this, dear readers, but much of the essence of ethnic food, any ethnic food, is lost in translation. Feeding oneself and one’s family is a radically different process from continent to continent and culture to culture; beyond quelling the necessity of sustenance, there are few cultural universals from which we can compare and understand the cultures of food outside of our own (which ever that may be). Food is individual as well as communal; there is great difficulty in transmitting the cultural baggage of a set of flavors, or an ingredient, or a technique. I think this baggage is vital information, for when we divorce a food from its roots we end up with less desirable products and lose the cultural exchange. When we dine out at restaurants promising cuisine from a culture not our own, we are essentially committing ourselves to a cultural experience that, for many, will constitute their only contact with that culture.
Tuk under and held firmly
Tnurnb
--step 1 from the same chopsticks
The passionate diners, us (right?), are typically eager to heighten the cultural experience for ourselves; we use the proffered chopsticks in good faith, often to great disadvantage. We (maybe this isn’t a common practice) try to get the menu in the native language, determined to find the most faithful, honest representation of the cuisine. Is that enough? I have developed friendships with restaurants and the people who run them, and I have learned a great deal about what it means to be Chinese in the American restaurant business. For instance, I learned that a side benefit of restaurant ownership is that you can secure a green-card for anyone from your home country, because you can guarantee the US government of their employment. I know I’m in the minority on this one, otherwise the Quest would be full of amateur food writers on crack.
Add second chcostick
Hold it as you hold a pencil
--step 2
Where does the exchange stop? When your meal is over? After the last of the meal has left you? After you throw out the leftovers? Food is not the most effective cultural exchange, but it is pervasive in America today. We should consider the opportunities and dangers carefully, not only when we are dining but when we are cooking as well. Next time you make pasta, take a moment to contemplate the status of pasta in Italian cultures. Italians are famous for being passionate about their food, as I’m sure you are all aware, but think of the consequences and unintended side effects of Pasta. It has been argued that Italy’s factionalized political tradition stems from deep-seeded disagreements about pasta. When was the last time you witnessed a grudge match between Denny’s and IHOP over their flapjacks?
Hold tirst chopstick in originai position
Move the second one up and down
Now you can pick up anything!
--step 3
Food can also act as proxy for embattled peoples. An article published in Gastronomica (the coolest food magazine ever) a year ago detailed the tremendous argument between Israel and the rest of the Middle east about who had the right to call falafel ‘their’ National Snack; Egypt, Jordan and Israel all claim it as their own. In the article, a Palestinian woman is quoted “You’ve taken everything else from us, and now you want out snack food?” Is there a snack food that is indicative of American culture? Is there a snack food that you’d get into a shouting match to defend? For an example closer to home, there is long standing tension over the roots of southern food, which has exploded into a highly charged racial issue in some instances. They’re not your grits, they’re our grits.
This column makes no sense and I know it. If you made it this far, I’m impressed. I wanted to stoke the roaring intellectual fire that is Reed and chuck some embers towards a new pile of kindling. Think about what you eat more. It will be good for you.
2005/05/04
Dial-a-date
Gastronaut 9
It is Friday afternoon, and somehow, by the grace of god, you have a date with that cute freshman you met in a drunken stupor last weekend. Problem one: you haven’t showered in a week. Problem two: there are hundreds of restaurants in the rose city and you have to pick a good one, a restaurant that won’t break the bank but still impress upon your date your worldliness and good taste. Problem three: You don’t know anything about restaurants. Solutions: While bathing is a personal, private affair, do what my friends do for 2 and 3, call the Gastronaut.
Ring ring…Gastronaut: hello?
Friend: hey gastro! What is going on dude?
G: nothing much man, what can I do ya for?
F: I have a hot date tonight.
G: Really? Anyone I know?
F: that freshman girl I introduced to you at that party that one time.
G: Very specific dude, I’m proud of your descriptive prowess.
F: Hey, fuck you.
G: You called me, buddy.
F: true, true. Anyway, where do you think I should take her?
G: I don’t know man, how much do you wanna spend?
F: not too much, but enough to impress.
G: What kinda food does she like?
F: I don’t fuckin know man.
G: Great, you’ve really done your fuckin homework.
F: Hey, fuck you!
G: I’m just kidding man, relax. She got any qualms?
F: Qualms? Whaddya mean qualms? I don’t date anyone with qualms man, that shit is contagious.
G: Restrictions. Y’know… is there anything she won’t eat?
F: Oh… I think she hates cilantro.
G: Okay. Are you on foot? Bus? You gotta car?
F: we be bussin’ it yo.
G: What do you wanna eat?
F: I don’t really care. Maybe Italian or something?
G: You are firmly non-committal.
F: Yeah, well, I figure you’re the expert, y’know?
G: Thanks… Hmmm… How much of a date is this?
F: I really like her.
G: Gotcha. Well you’ve got options, for sure. I won’t send you on a goose chase to Northeast or anything, but there are still tons of choices. There are three places that come to mind immediately. First is The Farm café on 7th and Burnside. (10 E 7th, 5037363276) They make some seriously good, disarmingly simple food. Their wine list… oh wait she’s a freshman. Anyway, it's in a nice old house and it has a really intimate, scenester vibe. They also manage to make some tasty drinks and desserts. Entrees average about $10.
Another is Lauro, on 33nd and Division. (3377 SE Division 5032397000) Lauro is the Willamette Week’s restaurant of the year for 2005, for good reason. The chef knocks out some great, Moroccan inflected dishes, and the service is entirely too good for the prices (entrees $8-18). The bonus with Lauro is that Pix Patisserie (3402 SE Division, 5032324407) is across the street, making for more romantic times and desserts that have seriously arousing effects.
A third place is Papa Haydn on Milwaukie, (5829 SE Milwaukie, 5032329440) which would earn more consideration if it weren’t such a pain in the ass to get to because of the bridge construction. Their pastry chef is very well known, for good reason, but the food is too predictably northwest cliché for me (hazelnut encrusted salmon anyone?). Out of the three, Papa Haydn is the priciest.
F: thanks dude.
G: good luck amigo. Portase bien.
Click
Ring Ring F: hello?
G: I forgot man; none of these places take reservations. Well, Papa Haydn takes them during the week, so that doesn’t help you. Be prepared to wait if you get there at any reasonable hour, but that just makes you look sexier, doesn’t it.
F: yeah, it does.
G: peace
Click
It is Friday afternoon, and somehow, by the grace of god, you have a date with that cute freshman you met in a drunken stupor last weekend. Problem one: you haven’t showered in a week. Problem two: there are hundreds of restaurants in the rose city and you have to pick a good one, a restaurant that won’t break the bank but still impress upon your date your worldliness and good taste. Problem three: You don’t know anything about restaurants. Solutions: While bathing is a personal, private affair, do what my friends do for 2 and 3, call the Gastronaut.
Ring ring…Gastronaut: hello?
Friend: hey gastro! What is going on dude?
G: nothing much man, what can I do ya for?
F: I have a hot date tonight.
G: Really? Anyone I know?
F: that freshman girl I introduced to you at that party that one time.
G: Very specific dude, I’m proud of your descriptive prowess.
F: Hey, fuck you.
G: You called me, buddy.
F: true, true. Anyway, where do you think I should take her?
G: I don’t know man, how much do you wanna spend?
F: not too much, but enough to impress.
G: What kinda food does she like?
F: I don’t fuckin know man.
G: Great, you’ve really done your fuckin homework.
F: Hey, fuck you!
G: I’m just kidding man, relax. She got any qualms?
F: Qualms? Whaddya mean qualms? I don’t date anyone with qualms man, that shit is contagious.
G: Restrictions. Y’know… is there anything she won’t eat?
F: Oh… I think she hates cilantro.
G: Okay. Are you on foot? Bus? You gotta car?
F: we be bussin’ it yo.
G: What do you wanna eat?
F: I don’t really care. Maybe Italian or something?
G: You are firmly non-committal.
F: Yeah, well, I figure you’re the expert, y’know?
G: Thanks… Hmmm… How much of a date is this?
F: I really like her.
G: Gotcha. Well you’ve got options, for sure. I won’t send you on a goose chase to Northeast or anything, but there are still tons of choices. There are three places that come to mind immediately. First is The Farm café on 7th and Burnside. (10 E 7th, 5037363276) They make some seriously good, disarmingly simple food. Their wine list… oh wait she’s a freshman. Anyway, it's in a nice old house and it has a really intimate, scenester vibe. They also manage to make some tasty drinks and desserts. Entrees average about $10.
Another is Lauro, on 33nd and Division. (3377 SE Division 5032397000) Lauro is the Willamette Week’s restaurant of the year for 2005, for good reason. The chef knocks out some great, Moroccan inflected dishes, and the service is entirely too good for the prices (entrees $8-18). The bonus with Lauro is that Pix Patisserie (3402 SE Division, 5032324407) is across the street, making for more romantic times and desserts that have seriously arousing effects.
A third place is Papa Haydn on Milwaukie, (5829 SE Milwaukie, 5032329440) which would earn more consideration if it weren’t such a pain in the ass to get to because of the bridge construction. Their pastry chef is very well known, for good reason, but the food is too predictably northwest cliché for me (hazelnut encrusted salmon anyone?). Out of the three, Papa Haydn is the priciest.
F: thanks dude.
G: good luck amigo. Portase bien.
Click
Ring Ring F: hello?
G: I forgot man; none of these places take reservations. Well, Papa Haydn takes them during the week, so that doesn’t help you. Be prepared to wait if you get there at any reasonable hour, but that just makes you look sexier, doesn’t it.
F: yeah, it does.
G: peace
Click
the physics of institutional food service
Gastronaut 8
Commons: The physics of institutional food service
There has been a sizable amount of commons-bashing in the Quest, and most of it is legitimate. I do believe, however, you, dear readers, could use a few insights about the realities of food service, or more specifically, institutional food service.
In a restaurant, any restaurant, the chef, management and staff have a large amount of control over their interaction with the public: if they run a steakhouse, they run a steak house, if you want pad thai you have to go somewhere else. The staff also controls the number of their customers (well, in a sense) by controlling the number of seats, number of seatings and hours. This amount of control leads to fairly accurate projections about sales and revenue, which in turn, help whoever is responsible for food purchasing to target the appropriate amount of food-stuffs to purchase. This is by no means an exact science, but any good manager has a feel for it.
Institutional food is a different animal entirely. Bon Appetit has to serve everything. They have a captive audience, to some extent, but the fact remains that they must make a serious effort to please every single member of the community. This is exceedingly difficult when each plate is not one-off. One-off food, like a steak at a steakhouse, is made to order. Made-to-order food on an institutional scale is only possible with grill food. I don’t think I have to detail the predictability of grill food. Generations of Reedies have lived on grilled cheese alone, but I can testify that doing this can cause permanent damage to your health. When a kitchen is asked to please everyone, what results is something I will call base level cuisine. Base level cuisine must please the most squeamish and picky eaters: the garlic-phobic, the spice intolerant, the fat averse, the kosher, the vegan, the halal, and that one person we all know that won’t eat anything that jiggles. I remember my commons experience as a love affair with hot sauce and ketchup, as I’m sure many of you do as well, and that is the sticky wicket: we can make our food spicier or saltier to our tastes, but yon squeamish eater can’t take the garlic or the meat out of a finished product. As it is commons has comments posted often about how their food is too this or too that. Reedies are a picky bunch.
Bon Appetit has no control over how many customers they serve. Sure, they know how many students are enrolled and how many have board plans, but they certainly don’t see those hoards of high school kids here for Greek theatre three days in advance. With that kind of variability in sales, your average daily losses (meaning unsold food) can range from zero to astronomical, unless you try your best to use it all up (which explains the thinly disguised last-night's-dinner-entrée soups). In addition to the tremendous opportunity for losing money on food cost, there is also the labor question. Commons is open a lot, with many more staff then any normal restaurant would ever need. That adds to the overhead immensely, especially when you consider the shiftless masses that typically work in food service; there is a tremendous amount of turnover at commons and everywhere else in the industry.
Let me be clear about something—some Commons practices are horrible. But most, if not all of these practices are at the behest of a manager, corporate master or someone else high up. Feeding a college and making a profit is very hard to do. Methods change, prices are constantly fluctuating, and corporate directives are consistently misguided. We cannot take our anger or disappointment out on the cooks and chefs. They are trying to please a very moody, bitchy public who are bitchy because they eat there three times a day. I’m sorry, but you could eat at the French Laundry three times a day for some months and get sick of it. Everything gets boring and monotonous after a time.
Commons: The physics of institutional food service
There has been a sizable amount of commons-bashing in the Quest, and most of it is legitimate. I do believe, however, you, dear readers, could use a few insights about the realities of food service, or more specifically, institutional food service.
In a restaurant, any restaurant, the chef, management and staff have a large amount of control over their interaction with the public: if they run a steakhouse, they run a steak house, if you want pad thai you have to go somewhere else. The staff also controls the number of their customers (well, in a sense) by controlling the number of seats, number of seatings and hours. This amount of control leads to fairly accurate projections about sales and revenue, which in turn, help whoever is responsible for food purchasing to target the appropriate amount of food-stuffs to purchase. This is by no means an exact science, but any good manager has a feel for it.
Institutional food is a different animal entirely. Bon Appetit has to serve everything. They have a captive audience, to some extent, but the fact remains that they must make a serious effort to please every single member of the community. This is exceedingly difficult when each plate is not one-off. One-off food, like a steak at a steakhouse, is made to order. Made-to-order food on an institutional scale is only possible with grill food. I don’t think I have to detail the predictability of grill food. Generations of Reedies have lived on grilled cheese alone, but I can testify that doing this can cause permanent damage to your health. When a kitchen is asked to please everyone, what results is something I will call base level cuisine. Base level cuisine must please the most squeamish and picky eaters: the garlic-phobic, the spice intolerant, the fat averse, the kosher, the vegan, the halal, and that one person we all know that won’t eat anything that jiggles. I remember my commons experience as a love affair with hot sauce and ketchup, as I’m sure many of you do as well, and that is the sticky wicket: we can make our food spicier or saltier to our tastes, but yon squeamish eater can’t take the garlic or the meat out of a finished product. As it is commons has comments posted often about how their food is too this or too that. Reedies are a picky bunch.
Bon Appetit has no control over how many customers they serve. Sure, they know how many students are enrolled and how many have board plans, but they certainly don’t see those hoards of high school kids here for Greek theatre three days in advance. With that kind of variability in sales, your average daily losses (meaning unsold food) can range from zero to astronomical, unless you try your best to use it all up (which explains the thinly disguised last-night's-dinner-entrée soups). In addition to the tremendous opportunity for losing money on food cost, there is also the labor question. Commons is open a lot, with many more staff then any normal restaurant would ever need. That adds to the overhead immensely, especially when you consider the shiftless masses that typically work in food service; there is a tremendous amount of turnover at commons and everywhere else in the industry.
Let me be clear about something—some Commons practices are horrible. But most, if not all of these practices are at the behest of a manager, corporate master or someone else high up. Feeding a college and making a profit is very hard to do. Methods change, prices are constantly fluctuating, and corporate directives are consistently misguided. We cannot take our anger or disappointment out on the cooks and chefs. They are trying to please a very moody, bitchy public who are bitchy because they eat there three times a day. I’m sorry, but you could eat at the French Laundry three times a day for some months and get sick of it. Everything gets boring and monotonous after a time.
a real review
Montego Bay
1235 SW Jefferson St Portland,
Oregon, 503-228-1277
I don’t know why, but at some point this week I got it through my thick skull that Jamaican food was exactly what I needed. I’m not sure why, for I had little previous experience beyond being admonished by various trustafarians for not eating ‘ital’ enough food. That and I can make a mean Jerk Spice, and a good friend of mine has spent a great deal of time taking bong rips and raving on and on about these “patties,” which, apparently, are quite Ital.
I’ll drop some culinary esoterica on you: In the case of Jamaica, the Arawak people (you know, the ones that lived there before the white devil came) have had a small but lasting effect on the culinary world. Allspice berries are native to the Caribbean area, and when the first European pirates came to the region, the natives taught them that Allspice preserved meat incredibly effectively. The Arawak word for the berries was Bucan, which led to the pirates’ being tagged Bucaneers.
Native spices aside, very little of Jamaican/pan-Caribbean cuisine has native ties. Jamaican food is a combination of all of those foreign cultures that took over in the 17th century. There are plantains and curries, signs of African influences, and there are yeasted breads and tarts, which don’t get much more European. These disparate culinary worlds make for exotic dishes, and Montego Bay, a new Jamaican restaurant on the corner of 13th and Jefferson, tries valiantly to give the diner a full picture of Jamaican Cuisine. In respect to the food, they have much success, with respect to service, well; I’ll get to that.
Montego Bay has the paint job and cultural kitsch one would expect. I respect the desire to create pleasing environs, but a palm frond decorated bar caused flashbacks of the bar fight in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. The menu had appetizers, breads, sides and entrees divided into the standard beef/chicken/seafood subcategories. My dining partners and I attempted to order a cross-section of the menu, and we dutifully ordered things from all corners. I recommend the rice dishes; none of us could raise the gumption to order a pasta dish from a not-so-wheat based culture. The Chicken Curry was well balanced and a little overdone, but tasty; the shrimp in the shrimp rice were of the 100-150 range (#shrimp per pound) and looked suspiciously, um, processed. I ordered a side of calaloo, which is a type of dark leafy green. The greens had been cooked for a long time with mild spices, onions and sweet peppers and were spectacularly tender. My dining mates had come for the patties so we ordered on the combination plate as an appetizer. They came, conveniently labeled with a little food dye to mark beef/chicken/veggie, after we had our main courses. Tardiness aside, these ‘patties,’ which are essentially empanadas, or if that doesn’t explain it, half-moon shaped pockets of filling surrounded by a harder-than-usual pastry dough, baked then griddle cooked. I recommend against ordering bread: “hardough bread” is white bread. Yes it is fresh, and pretty good, but it is still just plain ol’ Pullman bread.
Our waitress apologized the moment we walked in the door. She was the only person working, she said, so everything would be a little slow. I looked around, and saw 5 full tables. 2 and 4 tops. Egad, I thought, if she can’t handle this few people, why is she a waitress? Anyway, the service sucked. Badly. This waitress played the ‘man’ card (“men can never make up their minds”) when we were ordering, and then later plopped the bill right in front of me. I was paying, and that is a bias that usually pisses off the women at the table more than me, but after the man thing, I was a little miffed. I was also disappointed that I couldn’t order any drink that came in a coconut.
Update: Service has improved dramatically, as has the inventory of fru-fru drinks, one of which comes in a coconut. They have certainly blossomed into a great restaurant.
1235 SW Jefferson St Portland,
Oregon, 503-228-1277
I don’t know why, but at some point this week I got it through my thick skull that Jamaican food was exactly what I needed. I’m not sure why, for I had little previous experience beyond being admonished by various trustafarians for not eating ‘ital’ enough food. That and I can make a mean Jerk Spice, and a good friend of mine has spent a great deal of time taking bong rips and raving on and on about these “patties,” which, apparently, are quite Ital.
I’ll drop some culinary esoterica on you: In the case of Jamaica, the Arawak people (you know, the ones that lived there before the white devil came) have had a small but lasting effect on the culinary world. Allspice berries are native to the Caribbean area, and when the first European pirates came to the region, the natives taught them that Allspice preserved meat incredibly effectively. The Arawak word for the berries was Bucan, which led to the pirates’ being tagged Bucaneers.
Native spices aside, very little of Jamaican/pan-Caribbean cuisine has native ties. Jamaican food is a combination of all of those foreign cultures that took over in the 17th century. There are plantains and curries, signs of African influences, and there are yeasted breads and tarts, which don’t get much more European. These disparate culinary worlds make for exotic dishes, and Montego Bay, a new Jamaican restaurant on the corner of 13th and Jefferson, tries valiantly to give the diner a full picture of Jamaican Cuisine. In respect to the food, they have much success, with respect to service, well; I’ll get to that.
Montego Bay has the paint job and cultural kitsch one would expect. I respect the desire to create pleasing environs, but a palm frond decorated bar caused flashbacks of the bar fight in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. The menu had appetizers, breads, sides and entrees divided into the standard beef/chicken/seafood subcategories. My dining partners and I attempted to order a cross-section of the menu, and we dutifully ordered things from all corners. I recommend the rice dishes; none of us could raise the gumption to order a pasta dish from a not-so-wheat based culture. The Chicken Curry was well balanced and a little overdone, but tasty; the shrimp in the shrimp rice were of the 100-150 range (#shrimp per pound) and looked suspiciously, um, processed. I ordered a side of calaloo, which is a type of dark leafy green. The greens had been cooked for a long time with mild spices, onions and sweet peppers and were spectacularly tender. My dining mates had come for the patties so we ordered on the combination plate as an appetizer. They came, conveniently labeled with a little food dye to mark beef/chicken/veggie, after we had our main courses. Tardiness aside, these ‘patties,’ which are essentially empanadas, or if that doesn’t explain it, half-moon shaped pockets of filling surrounded by a harder-than-usual pastry dough, baked then griddle cooked. I recommend against ordering bread: “hardough bread” is white bread. Yes it is fresh, and pretty good, but it is still just plain ol’ Pullman bread.
Our waitress apologized the moment we walked in the door. She was the only person working, she said, so everything would be a little slow. I looked around, and saw 5 full tables. 2 and 4 tops. Egad, I thought, if she can’t handle this few people, why is she a waitress? Anyway, the service sucked. Badly. This waitress played the ‘man’ card (“men can never make up their minds”) when we were ordering, and then later plopped the bill right in front of me. I was paying, and that is a bias that usually pisses off the women at the table more than me, but after the man thing, I was a little miffed. I was also disappointed that I couldn’t order any drink that came in a coconut.
Update: Service has improved dramatically, as has the inventory of fru-fru drinks, one of which comes in a coconut. They have certainly blossomed into a great restaurant.
2005/05/03
written @ gunpoint
Gastronaut 6
The white truck tirade.
A few days ago, at the tender hour of 6 am, I found myself outside of Safeway. 6 am is a little early for me, so I have a tendency to wander around and ask silly questions of the poor unfortunate souls who have the misfortune of bumping into me. On this particular occasion the poor unfortunate man was delivering foodstuffs out of a gigantic white big rig to our favorite local pizza place, Papa Murphy’s. The big white truck was from the Sygma company, which is what initially drew my attention, since there are essentially two big names in white truck distribution that I have dealt with or seen on the left coast: Sysco and US Foods. These large multinational food distribution companies have done to food production, packaging and retail what Carnegie and Rockefeller did to steel and oil. I had not heard of Sygma; I actually thought for a moment that some unknown franchisee had decided to experiment with a pizza-delivering particle accelerator or some such. I guess that was another 6 am insight.
So I went home, wondering if I’d missed the boat on this particle accelerator idea, and determined to find out who the fuck Sygma was. I did a web search… I mean I googled Sygma, and, lo-and-behold it is a subdivision of Sysco. Hoo-rah we’ve got one nice big corporate family.
These huge ‘white’ truck companies fuck everyone they deal with. They run factory farms that produce low quality GMO products that they buy from themselves at artificially low prices to drive the competition out of business (all the while raping the American farm subsidy program for all it’s worth); they produce products that partially resemble the real thing but contain dangerously high levels of various nasty products, (Case and point: Kraft Singles are mostly hydrogenated oils and flavorings that are chemically closer to a plastic than a dairy product) they package them in as many different ways as possible, and then they sell them at outrageously low prices to undercut any legitimate local competition to institutions of various sorts: prisons, schools, Safeway, the American Military, Bon Appetit, and franchises just like Papa Murphy’s.
Jeez, what the fuck is his problem, you are wondering. I know you’re thinking it. I can hear you muttering already, and it’s five days ago, and I have headphones on. What did someone do to the Gastronaut in his formative years that would cause such frothy vitriol to spew from his fingertips?
First, I am worried about the future of our nation. How are we going to fend off the alien invaders if the average American is thirty pounds overweight? We can’t blame a consumer service corporation, however evil and profiteering they may be, for ruining our country. They fill the demands of their customers, who happen to make their living feeding a large number of Americans every day. Are these corporations guiding the forks of every American? What is driving the nation’s addiction to low quality, unhealthy, and UNDELICIOUS food? I won’t call it disgusting, for taste is subjective, but ain’t no one gonna call home to momma about that last take-n-bake Hawaiian pizza they just ate. We have choked on the gristle of our own crapulence. It scares the fuck out of me.
Second, because good restaurants run by good chefs who employ good people who have a passion for what they do and a concern for their patrons and their employees are closing at an alarming rate. Three restaurants, all good ones, have closed in southeast since September 20th. The average local, (meaning non-franchise) restaurant has about a 20% chance of surviving for two years. The failure rate amongst franchises is frighteningly low. I don’t buy the market-forces argument. The American conception of eating out has changed to incorporate the size-is-everything rubric. I think it sucks.
I’m not telling you to eat out more; eating out is costly, regardless of where you go. I don’t really know why I wrote this. Supersize Me made this point much better than I have. I guess this is a not-so-gentle reminder that there are businesses that deserve your patronage, and there are businesses that have come to expect it. Please, think about whom you are supporting with your consumption.
Tirade complete. Someone give me a Valium.
The white truck tirade.
A few days ago, at the tender hour of 6 am, I found myself outside of Safeway. 6 am is a little early for me, so I have a tendency to wander around and ask silly questions of the poor unfortunate souls who have the misfortune of bumping into me. On this particular occasion the poor unfortunate man was delivering foodstuffs out of a gigantic white big rig to our favorite local pizza place, Papa Murphy’s. The big white truck was from the Sygma company, which is what initially drew my attention, since there are essentially two big names in white truck distribution that I have dealt with or seen on the left coast: Sysco and US Foods. These large multinational food distribution companies have done to food production, packaging and retail what Carnegie and Rockefeller did to steel and oil. I had not heard of Sygma; I actually thought for a moment that some unknown franchisee had decided to experiment with a pizza-delivering particle accelerator or some such. I guess that was another 6 am insight.
So I went home, wondering if I’d missed the boat on this particle accelerator idea, and determined to find out who the fuck Sygma was. I did a web search… I mean I googled Sygma, and, lo-and-behold it is a subdivision of Sysco. Hoo-rah we’ve got one nice big corporate family.
These huge ‘white’ truck companies fuck everyone they deal with. They run factory farms that produce low quality GMO products that they buy from themselves at artificially low prices to drive the competition out of business (all the while raping the American farm subsidy program for all it’s worth); they produce products that partially resemble the real thing but contain dangerously high levels of various nasty products, (Case and point: Kraft Singles are mostly hydrogenated oils and flavorings that are chemically closer to a plastic than a dairy product) they package them in as many different ways as possible, and then they sell them at outrageously low prices to undercut any legitimate local competition to institutions of various sorts: prisons, schools, Safeway, the American Military, Bon Appetit, and franchises just like Papa Murphy’s.
Jeez, what the fuck is his problem, you are wondering. I know you’re thinking it. I can hear you muttering already, and it’s five days ago, and I have headphones on. What did someone do to the Gastronaut in his formative years that would cause such frothy vitriol to spew from his fingertips?
First, I am worried about the future of our nation. How are we going to fend off the alien invaders if the average American is thirty pounds overweight? We can’t blame a consumer service corporation, however evil and profiteering they may be, for ruining our country. They fill the demands of their customers, who happen to make their living feeding a large number of Americans every day. Are these corporations guiding the forks of every American? What is driving the nation’s addiction to low quality, unhealthy, and UNDELICIOUS food? I won’t call it disgusting, for taste is subjective, but ain’t no one gonna call home to momma about that last take-n-bake Hawaiian pizza they just ate. We have choked on the gristle of our own crapulence. It scares the fuck out of me.
Second, because good restaurants run by good chefs who employ good people who have a passion for what they do and a concern for their patrons and their employees are closing at an alarming rate. Three restaurants, all good ones, have closed in southeast since September 20th. The average local, (meaning non-franchise) restaurant has about a 20% chance of surviving for two years. The failure rate amongst franchises is frighteningly low. I don’t buy the market-forces argument. The American conception of eating out has changed to incorporate the size-is-everything rubric. I think it sucks.
I’m not telling you to eat out more; eating out is costly, regardless of where you go. I don’t really know why I wrote this. Supersize Me made this point much better than I have. I guess this is a not-so-gentle reminder that there are businesses that deserve your patronage, and there are businesses that have come to expect it. Please, think about whom you are supporting with your consumption.
Tirade complete. Someone give me a Valium.
treatise on the middle east
Gastronaut 5
Middle eastern food. (as usual, come up with something better)
I read recently in a well-known food publication that middle-eastern restaurants around the country have lost significant business in the post September 11th world. The article led with the story of two Iraqi restaurants in Queens that have chosen to recast their restaurants as "Mesopotamian cuisine" to try to deflect the anti-Iraqi sentiment that has taken certain parts of this nation. I find this all very depressing; why aren’t people skipping the French food? Freedom fries aside, French restaurants aren’t hurting.
I offer you, dear readers, a rundown of the Middle Eastern establishments I know. Go support good restaurants run by good people trying to make an honest buck, they all deserve our support.
A majority of the restaurants I have found are of the Lebanese variety, and whilst their menus are essentially the same, each will give you a very different experience.
Abou Karim (221 SW Pine): I do not understand the décor of Abou Karim. One could open a restaurant of any type in that space. Grey walls and dark wood tables; weird, grandiose but nevertheless uninspiring art and French early century liqueur and aperitif ads cover the walls. The Modern Jazz Quartet playing softly in the background put me in such a mood that before the menus arrived that I almost expected to order hazelnut crusted salmon with an appropriate Oregon Pinot Noir.
The food was excellent, but short of amazing. The hummus was heavy on the lemon, which is a refreshing divergence from the norm. The baba ghannouj was light, and, while a little light on smoky flavors, delicious. The falafel were held together with bread crumbs and tasted a little like, well, stovetop stuffing. A dining partner ordered lamb kabobs over couscous; it was delicious but tough.
There are two major problems with Abou Karim. One is what I like to call the ambiance tax. There is an extra $1-3 on every dish just to be downtown. I wouldn’t mind if it had been mind-blowing, but $6 for a side of hummus is excessive. My second problem is the service. The owner was very nice to us, but our waiter was the biggest schmuck I have ever had the displeasure of tipping. I asked him about the ingredients of a dish, and he took the menu out of my hands and read me the description.
Nicholas’ (318 SE Grand ave): Nic’s is the patriarch of a trio of family restaurants in southeast: Nic’s, Hoda’s and Ya Hala. Nic has long retired, and his daughter now runs the restaurant. Her brother owns Hoda’s and Ya Hala is owned by her aunt and uncle. Nearly every person on this side of the river has been to Nic’s. Located on Grand, it is a prime location that keeps the 50 odd seats packed every night of the week. Be prepared to wait, outside, in the rain, and then have a problem finding a place to put your wet jacket.
Nic’s formula is simple: good food, and lots of it, and no dish over $12. I have never left without leftovers. I am not a fan of their baba ghannouj, which is overloaded with garlic and chemical-tasting liquid smoke. Nic’s has a tendency to overspice, which means you will be sweating out the garlic and sumac for days. I’m not saying that is a bad thing, but fair warning. The Shawarmas are consistent and tender, and their falafel are near perfect.
The service is hit or miss: one night the waiter dumped a whole glass of water on a dining partner’s lap, and didn’t comp us, apologize, or give us extra napkins; another night the waitress was so attentive that I thought she was coming on to me. She actually took the time to find her boss and accost her about what brand of olive oil they used on my request. I am also not a huge fan of the Lebanese techno-pop they seem to play on constant repeat.
Hoda’s (3401 SE Belmont): I don’t like it. Their hummus is overloaded with low quality tahini and is pasty enough to patch holes in your ceiling. It is dangerous to describe a restaurant by its’ garnish, but it seems appropriate with Hoda’s. Any and all food out of that kitchen comes with a piece of lettuce and a quarter of a tomato. C’mon, give it the old college try, will ya? Oh, and the last time I saw meat that grey was, well, never.
Ya Hala (8005 SE Stark): Ya hala is hidden on the other side of Mt. Tabor off of 82nd. Ya Hala has taken great pains to create an ‘authentic’ atmosphere with murals on the wall and haphazard swathes of paint across fluorescent lights. As weird as it sounds it actually works. Ya Hala beats out all of its competitors in the following areas: wine list (extensive), ambiance (the tables are actually well spaced, and the music is quiet, and appropriate), menu size (30% more dishes than everyone else) and overall experience.
Ya Hala will be happy to serve you the same meze or Beef shawarma you can get at every other restaurant, but they also offer Lebanese specialties that I haven’t seen elsewhere. The stuffed artichokes are transcendent in both the vegetarian and meat versions, the makaly platter of roasted vegetables is basically unspiced: the essence of a perfectly prepared vegetable is all that you need. The house-made lemonade is spiked with rose water, and delicious. John, the owner, is a sweet guy, and liable to remember you after 2 visits, months apart. Service is attentive, even when the place is overflowing.
edit/update: I have another restaurant to add to this column, which I had not the chance to visit before this column was published. Karam, which is also on Pine, is the upper-crust middle-eastern restaurant here in Portland. They have ambiance to spare, a wide ranging menu, which is much larger than any other restaurant listed here, as well as a reall drink menu and a well developed wine list. You pay more, but it is certainly worth it.
Middle eastern food. (as usual, come up with something better)
I read recently in a well-known food publication that middle-eastern restaurants around the country have lost significant business in the post September 11th world. The article led with the story of two Iraqi restaurants in Queens that have chosen to recast their restaurants as "Mesopotamian cuisine" to try to deflect the anti-Iraqi sentiment that has taken certain parts of this nation. I find this all very depressing; why aren’t people skipping the French food? Freedom fries aside, French restaurants aren’t hurting.
I offer you, dear readers, a rundown of the Middle Eastern establishments I know. Go support good restaurants run by good people trying to make an honest buck, they all deserve our support.
A majority of the restaurants I have found are of the Lebanese variety, and whilst their menus are essentially the same, each will give you a very different experience.
Abou Karim (221 SW Pine): I do not understand the décor of Abou Karim. One could open a restaurant of any type in that space. Grey walls and dark wood tables; weird, grandiose but nevertheless uninspiring art and French early century liqueur and aperitif ads cover the walls. The Modern Jazz Quartet playing softly in the background put me in such a mood that before the menus arrived that I almost expected to order hazelnut crusted salmon with an appropriate Oregon Pinot Noir.
The food was excellent, but short of amazing. The hummus was heavy on the lemon, which is a refreshing divergence from the norm. The baba ghannouj was light, and, while a little light on smoky flavors, delicious. The falafel were held together with bread crumbs and tasted a little like, well, stovetop stuffing. A dining partner ordered lamb kabobs over couscous; it was delicious but tough.
There are two major problems with Abou Karim. One is what I like to call the ambiance tax. There is an extra $1-3 on every dish just to be downtown. I wouldn’t mind if it had been mind-blowing, but $6 for a side of hummus is excessive. My second problem is the service. The owner was very nice to us, but our waiter was the biggest schmuck I have ever had the displeasure of tipping. I asked him about the ingredients of a dish, and he took the menu out of my hands and read me the description.
Nicholas’ (318 SE Grand ave): Nic’s is the patriarch of a trio of family restaurants in southeast: Nic’s, Hoda’s and Ya Hala. Nic has long retired, and his daughter now runs the restaurant. Her brother owns Hoda’s and Ya Hala is owned by her aunt and uncle. Nearly every person on this side of the river has been to Nic’s. Located on Grand, it is a prime location that keeps the 50 odd seats packed every night of the week. Be prepared to wait, outside, in the rain, and then have a problem finding a place to put your wet jacket.
Nic’s formula is simple: good food, and lots of it, and no dish over $12. I have never left without leftovers. I am not a fan of their baba ghannouj, which is overloaded with garlic and chemical-tasting liquid smoke. Nic’s has a tendency to overspice, which means you will be sweating out the garlic and sumac for days. I’m not saying that is a bad thing, but fair warning. The Shawarmas are consistent and tender, and their falafel are near perfect.
The service is hit or miss: one night the waiter dumped a whole glass of water on a dining partner’s lap, and didn’t comp us, apologize, or give us extra napkins; another night the waitress was so attentive that I thought she was coming on to me. She actually took the time to find her boss and accost her about what brand of olive oil they used on my request. I am also not a huge fan of the Lebanese techno-pop they seem to play on constant repeat.
Hoda’s (3401 SE Belmont): I don’t like it. Their hummus is overloaded with low quality tahini and is pasty enough to patch holes in your ceiling. It is dangerous to describe a restaurant by its’ garnish, but it seems appropriate with Hoda’s. Any and all food out of that kitchen comes with a piece of lettuce and a quarter of a tomato. C’mon, give it the old college try, will ya? Oh, and the last time I saw meat that grey was, well, never.
Ya Hala (8005 SE Stark): Ya hala is hidden on the other side of Mt. Tabor off of 82nd. Ya Hala has taken great pains to create an ‘authentic’ atmosphere with murals on the wall and haphazard swathes of paint across fluorescent lights. As weird as it sounds it actually works. Ya Hala beats out all of its competitors in the following areas: wine list (extensive), ambiance (the tables are actually well spaced, and the music is quiet, and appropriate), menu size (30% more dishes than everyone else) and overall experience.
Ya Hala will be happy to serve you the same meze or Beef shawarma you can get at every other restaurant, but they also offer Lebanese specialties that I haven’t seen elsewhere. The stuffed artichokes are transcendent in both the vegetarian and meat versions, the makaly platter of roasted vegetables is basically unspiced: the essence of a perfectly prepared vegetable is all that you need. The house-made lemonade is spiked with rose water, and delicious. John, the owner, is a sweet guy, and liable to remember you after 2 visits, months apart. Service is attentive, even when the place is overflowing.
edit/update: I have another restaurant to add to this column, which I had not the chance to visit before this column was published. Karam, which is also on Pine, is the upper-crust middle-eastern restaurant here in Portland. They have ambiance to spare, a wide ranging menu, which is much larger than any other restaurant listed here, as well as a reall drink menu and a well developed wine list. You pay more, but it is certainly worth it.
the munchies
Gastronaut 4
The munchies.
There is no state of mind more predisposed to gluttony and culinary experimentation than being stoned. In all my years I have never seen a sober person spread condiments on a tortilla and consider it not only food, but delicious food. I have not seen sober people bake brownies so packed with chocolate that there was nary room for flour. I have not seen sober people transmit recipes in the following manner:
“yeah, like, so, you, ahh….. you put the uhh… the dry stuff in the wet stuff.”
“then what dude?”
“you, like, uhh,
bubble bubble, inhale, exhale,
you put it in the hot box.”
“you mean the oven?”
“yeah, man...”
I will pony up some of my indiscretions. Back in the day when I was a teenager, before I had status and before I had a… anyway, after one of those post high school marathons (not the running kind) I remember (vaguely) discovering taco bell hot sauce and cinnamon twists went well together. The maple syrup dipped samosa. The hummus so inundated with garlic that neighbors complained.
With gluttony and experimentation come those rare moments of genius. Chocolate-covered avocado. Fuck it, we can assume whoever decided a deep-fried snickers bar was a good idea was higher than Rick James in a blimp. Ketchup and rice.
Chefs are the gluttonous types too. Jeremiah Tower, perhaps one of the most innovative chefs in the early days of ‘California’ cuisine, who cooked for Alice Waters at Chez Panisse before opening Stars in San Francisco in the early 1980s, (before he-who’s-name-shouldn’t-be-spoken-but-rhymes-with-schmuck took over) includes recipes for pot butter in his book California Dish, and writes of a meal he made for friends:
Pirozhki -- Vodka Wyborova
Proscuitto and figs -- Niersteiner Spiegleberg Spätlese Kabinett ‘66
Consommé marijuana
Roast Beef, sauce madère – Château Beychevelle ‘62
Spinach Cream puree
Pommes de terre château
Watercress salad vinaigrette
Fraises, crème Carême -- Korbel, brut California
Coffee
Meringues
“The consommé cleared the palate, and this one, from marijuana stems soaked in a rich chicken stock, provided another level of stimulation. But not stoned: the brew takes 45 minutes to reach the brain, by which time we were on to dessert, tasting strawberries and cream as we’d never tasted them before.”
Note the wine pairings. This dude doesn’t fuck around.
I want to hear about your stories. Feasts of embarrassing proportions, brilliant discoveries; I will even accept those who will not admit their indiscretions (i.e. I once "saw someone" standing naked in front of my fridge eating a stick of butter.)
The munchies.
There is no state of mind more predisposed to gluttony and culinary experimentation than being stoned. In all my years I have never seen a sober person spread condiments on a tortilla and consider it not only food, but delicious food. I have not seen sober people bake brownies so packed with chocolate that there was nary room for flour. I have not seen sober people transmit recipes in the following manner:
“yeah, like, so, you, ahh….. you put the uhh… the dry stuff in the wet stuff.”
“then what dude?”
“you, like, uhh,
bubble bubble, inhale, exhale,
you put it in the hot box.”
“you mean the oven?”
“yeah, man...”
I will pony up some of my indiscretions. Back in the day when I was a teenager, before I had status and before I had a… anyway, after one of those post high school marathons (not the running kind) I remember (vaguely) discovering taco bell hot sauce and cinnamon twists went well together. The maple syrup dipped samosa. The hummus so inundated with garlic that neighbors complained.
With gluttony and experimentation come those rare moments of genius. Chocolate-covered avocado. Fuck it, we can assume whoever decided a deep-fried snickers bar was a good idea was higher than Rick James in a blimp. Ketchup and rice.
Chefs are the gluttonous types too. Jeremiah Tower, perhaps one of the most innovative chefs in the early days of ‘California’ cuisine, who cooked for Alice Waters at Chez Panisse before opening Stars in San Francisco in the early 1980s, (before he-who’s-name-shouldn’t-be-spoken-but-rhymes-with-schmuck took over) includes recipes for pot butter in his book California Dish, and writes of a meal he made for friends:
Pirozhki -- Vodka Wyborova
Proscuitto and figs -- Niersteiner Spiegleberg Spätlese Kabinett ‘66
Consommé marijuana
Roast Beef, sauce madère – Château Beychevelle ‘62
Spinach Cream puree
Pommes de terre château
Watercress salad vinaigrette
Fraises, crème Carême -- Korbel, brut California
Coffee
Meringues
“The consommé cleared the palate, and this one, from marijuana stems soaked in a rich chicken stock, provided another level of stimulation. But not stoned: the brew takes 45 minutes to reach the brain, by which time we were on to dessert, tasting strawberries and cream as we’d never tasted them before.”
Note the wine pairings. This dude doesn’t fuck around.
I want to hear about your stories. Feasts of embarrassing proportions, brilliant discoveries; I will even accept those who will not admit their indiscretions (i.e. I once "saw someone" standing naked in front of my fridge eating a stick of butter.)
gastronaut 3, also 9/2004
Pan-demonium 2
Last week, I, the Gastronaut, berated the qualities of Teflon pans. I didn’t receive any angry e-mail, so either no one read it or no one objected. Either way, I realized shortly after deadline that I had left you, dear readers, hanging. So, now the cast iron tirade:
My cast iron pan is more than 80 years old. It belonged to my great grandmother, and so on down the line to me. It is one tough pan, but it needs a little tenderness. All cast iron needs a little tenderness. One must remember that cast iron is iron in a fairly unadulterated form, and thus is liable to oxidize. Some newer cast iron pans come with a rust preventing coating of some sort, but that tends to wear off. There are three ways to season a pan: The long way, the complicated way or the expensive way. So, in that order:
The long way: use it. The oils in your food will bind to the porous surface of the pan and over time you will develop a nice patina. This will take time, but that is why it is the long way.
The complicated way: this is the get-it-right-the-first-time method. Get some oil with a high ‘smoke-point’ (the point at which the oil begins to consume itself) so the following oils are absolutely out of the question: Olive oil of any type, butter and fish oil. I also do not recommend any solid state ‘hydrogenated’ vegetable oils (think Crisco) because they are liable to become solid state after the process is over, leaving this gooey disgusting fat deposit on the pan that is really hard to get off. I also discourage lard or any animal fat because it has a tendency to become rancid. So a good normal, blended vegetable oil will do fine. If it’s a new pan, scrub off the wax coating, if it’s an old pan, get some steel wool or a brillo pad and scrub the shit out of it. Dry it thoroughly. Spread an even coat of oil over the cooking surface with a paper towel. Turn the pan upside down on top of a sheet pan, or anything that will catch any excess oil that may drip and put it into your oven at 500 degrees for about 1 hour. Turn off the oven and let it sit for many hours until completely cool. Wipe the inside with a paper towel and you’re done.
The expensive way: Lodge, a cast iron manufacturer, now sells a line of ‘pre-seasoned pans.’ They cost about 20% more than a normal cast iron, but they save you most of the extra effort. I’ve used them, and they are nice. Make sure you follow the instructions carefully, lest ye screw up the patina and have to redo it yourself.
There are a few caveats. Post-seasoning, one must never use dish soap. Dish soap is a product designed to break down fat molecules from your plates, pots and pans. Since you just spent a lot of time adding a fat coating to your pan, taking it off chemically is one dumb fucking idea. Learn to clean the pan while it is still warm. Things will still stick once and a while, especially things like egg protein. The best abrasive to use, whilst maintaining your seasoning, is salt. If you let you patina deteriorate, or you find rust, just scrub it down and re-season. It’s as easy as that.
Last week, I, the Gastronaut, berated the qualities of Teflon pans. I didn’t receive any angry e-mail, so either no one read it or no one objected. Either way, I realized shortly after deadline that I had left you, dear readers, hanging. So, now the cast iron tirade:
My cast iron pan is more than 80 years old. It belonged to my great grandmother, and so on down the line to me. It is one tough pan, but it needs a little tenderness. All cast iron needs a little tenderness. One must remember that cast iron is iron in a fairly unadulterated form, and thus is liable to oxidize. Some newer cast iron pans come with a rust preventing coating of some sort, but that tends to wear off. There are three ways to season a pan: The long way, the complicated way or the expensive way. So, in that order:
The long way: use it. The oils in your food will bind to the porous surface of the pan and over time you will develop a nice patina. This will take time, but that is why it is the long way.
The complicated way: this is the get-it-right-the-first-time method. Get some oil with a high ‘smoke-point’ (the point at which the oil begins to consume itself) so the following oils are absolutely out of the question: Olive oil of any type, butter and fish oil. I also do not recommend any solid state ‘hydrogenated’ vegetable oils (think Crisco) because they are liable to become solid state after the process is over, leaving this gooey disgusting fat deposit on the pan that is really hard to get off. I also discourage lard or any animal fat because it has a tendency to become rancid. So a good normal, blended vegetable oil will do fine. If it’s a new pan, scrub off the wax coating, if it’s an old pan, get some steel wool or a brillo pad and scrub the shit out of it. Dry it thoroughly. Spread an even coat of oil over the cooking surface with a paper towel. Turn the pan upside down on top of a sheet pan, or anything that will catch any excess oil that may drip and put it into your oven at 500 degrees for about 1 hour. Turn off the oven and let it sit for many hours until completely cool. Wipe the inside with a paper towel and you’re done.
The expensive way: Lodge, a cast iron manufacturer, now sells a line of ‘pre-seasoned pans.’ They cost about 20% more than a normal cast iron, but they save you most of the extra effort. I’ve used them, and they are nice. Make sure you follow the instructions carefully, lest ye screw up the patina and have to redo it yourself.
There are a few caveats. Post-seasoning, one must never use dish soap. Dish soap is a product designed to break down fat molecules from your plates, pots and pans. Since you just spent a lot of time adding a fat coating to your pan, taking it off chemically is one dumb fucking idea. Learn to clean the pan while it is still warm. Things will still stick once and a while, especially things like egg protein. The best abrasive to use, whilst maintaining your seasoning, is salt. If you let you patina deteriorate, or you find rust, just scrub it down and re-season. It’s as easy as that.
2005/05/02
gastronaut 2- the first good column. originally published 9/2004
Gastronaut 2
Pan-demonium
There are two kinds of Reedie cooks: those who feed themselves, and those who cook. I am not writing to the cooks this week. This column is dedicated to those who care the least about their kitchens, who scrounge every meal, who own pans that couldn’t stop a robber. The cooks out there have thought twice about the equipment they use. I’d bet even money that there are some who are beginning their off-campus careers, and, two weeks into the semester, don’t have any pans yet. This is the official, no-holds-barred, anti-teflon tirade. I want to save ye non-cooks from a terrible mistake.
Allow me to craft a useful analogy. If Teflon were a rock-star it would be… Prince. Prince is talented, no one will deny that, but Prince is not perfect. He’s moody, egotistical, fragile, and only useful in certain situations: if you do not treat Prince correctly, he’s liable to flake (ask Sony). Without constant vigilance Prince is likely to lull you into a false sense of security, to convince you he’s just as good without The Revolution, to get you to trust him, that, because Purple Rain was good, Under the Cherry Moon will be fabulous.
Teflon is a wondrous product, but it is not for everything. If it were, you’d find it in commercial kitchens. Ostensibly, Teflon creates a non-stick surface that allows the cook to reduce the amount of oil, and therefore fat, used in the dish. The catch is that Teflon does not make a good pan on its own. Good pans need to be heavy and well built in order to correctly and efficiently distribute heat. Teflon is also a coating that can be easily scratched, weakened or destroyed. A thin pan is likely to have a thin coating, which is likely to flake off and end up in your food. Dupont insists that Teflon is safe, but… well, believe them if you wish. Teflon must be cleaned instantaneously after use, without soap or anything that may scratch the coating. Cooks might do that, but not everyone else. If you still want a Teflon pan, and you want a good one, expect to pay more than $50
The moral of the story is that Teflon is not the cure-all that many think. I recommend cast iron. Cast iron has its problems, but it is perfect for those who don’t take their culinary endeavors very seriously. You can clean the thing with steel wool if you want. Cast iron is intrinsically heavy (automatic heat distribution) tough, and it will never, ever, wear out. If cast iron were a rock star, it would be BB king. A good cast iron pan will be less than $20. Or, ask your grandmother. She has some she would be happy to give you. Besides, you need to call her anyway.
Pan-demonium
There are two kinds of Reedie cooks: those who feed themselves, and those who cook. I am not writing to the cooks this week. This column is dedicated to those who care the least about their kitchens, who scrounge every meal, who own pans that couldn’t stop a robber. The cooks out there have thought twice about the equipment they use. I’d bet even money that there are some who are beginning their off-campus careers, and, two weeks into the semester, don’t have any pans yet. This is the official, no-holds-barred, anti-teflon tirade. I want to save ye non-cooks from a terrible mistake.
Allow me to craft a useful analogy. If Teflon were a rock-star it would be… Prince. Prince is talented, no one will deny that, but Prince is not perfect. He’s moody, egotistical, fragile, and only useful in certain situations: if you do not treat Prince correctly, he’s liable to flake (ask Sony). Without constant vigilance Prince is likely to lull you into a false sense of security, to convince you he’s just as good without The Revolution, to get you to trust him, that, because Purple Rain was good, Under the Cherry Moon will be fabulous.
Teflon is a wondrous product, but it is not for everything. If it were, you’d find it in commercial kitchens. Ostensibly, Teflon creates a non-stick surface that allows the cook to reduce the amount of oil, and therefore fat, used in the dish. The catch is that Teflon does not make a good pan on its own. Good pans need to be heavy and well built in order to correctly and efficiently distribute heat. Teflon is also a coating that can be easily scratched, weakened or destroyed. A thin pan is likely to have a thin coating, which is likely to flake off and end up in your food. Dupont insists that Teflon is safe, but… well, believe them if you wish. Teflon must be cleaned instantaneously after use, without soap or anything that may scratch the coating. Cooks might do that, but not everyone else. If you still want a Teflon pan, and you want a good one, expect to pay more than $50
The moral of the story is that Teflon is not the cure-all that many think. I recommend cast iron. Cast iron has its problems, but it is perfect for those who don’t take their culinary endeavors very seriously. You can clean the thing with steel wool if you want. Cast iron is intrinsically heavy (automatic heat distribution) tough, and it will never, ever, wear out. If cast iron were a rock star, it would be BB king. A good cast iron pan will be less than $20. Or, ask your grandmother. She has some she would be happy to give you. Besides, you need to call her anyway.
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