Rainy Portland

The rainy Portland that we all know and (sort of) love is here. The past few weeks we’ve been fortunate enough to have a relatively dry fall with crunchy leaves, crisp air, and beautiful golden and red hues against lots of green landscapes and blue skies. I think it’s my first real fall since moving to the city, and it’s just been gorgeous.

Case and point (although this was between Portland-heavy rain showers today):

The lovely view from the house. We live right across a golf course and the river. Spoiled, I know.

$3 Bucket of Donuts

Voodoo Doughnuts is a (sketchy) hole in the wall donut shop. Its bizarre and eclectic offerings–like, cocoa puff donuts, cock & balls, maple bacon donuts–have turned it into a Pacific NW tourist destination. The place kind of loses its appeal after living in Portland for so long but it’s still a place to go to when you want to experience PDX culture and (duh) when you want donuts. Although it’s fun to bring a non-Portlander to Voodoo Doughnuts. Or someone who’s been there multiple times but wasn’t aware one could purchase a bucket of donuts for a mere three dollars…

You can guess what we he decided to do. He bought a bucket, we each had one, then he decided to be generous and give away donuts to the homeless folks we passed by. (I bet you were expecting us to be gluttonous, and to overindulge ourselves and not others.) It all went well until we found no barely any homeless people, which is extremely unusual in Portland, and we encountered a pompousgermaphobedouchebag.

Baking Bread

Sometimes, I bake… a lot. Today was one of those days.

I baked a loaf of beer bread filled with lots of Italian herbs, and two loaves of French bread. Baking beer bread is a cinch whereas the French bread took up a good chunk of the day because of how you have to wait and let it rise. Regardless, if I may so myself, they’re quite delicious. I’m thinking about turning a loaf into garlic bread for dinner to pair it with pasta and some white wine.

The other day, I stumbled into the Pearl District where it happened to be First Thursday. First Thursday is this amazing Portland event that takes place on the first Thursday of each month (hence the name). There’s art galleries that open up to the public, wine and beer, street vendors, live music, and random/cool events like this all over the Pearl.

Two small ramps were placed in the middle of a small street parking lot where skateboarders could do tricks off of. Surrounding that were booths featuring beer, grafitti artists, live music, and what not. Definitely one of the more creative/unique events I’ve seen at First Thursday.

A Whole Lot of Nothing

I’ve been up to all sorts of things and thought it was about time I updated you. I’m a bit of a hodgepodge when it comes to what I do. (I like that about me.)

The BF surprised me with a slice of cherry rum cheesecake that we shared and a copy of ‘Il y a longtemps que je t’aime‘ after he got home from work one evening last week. Both were much enjoyed. I wasn’t expecting him to like the movie as much as he did.

The next day, while we were waiting for the bus, I told him about what I caught our neighbour–a published poet–doing. She would run up her driveway to the road, do this weird wave action with her arms, arrange these sticks by the crosswalk, and then run back down to her house… several times. There was one day when I saw her doing that as I left to go to work in the morning, and she was doing the same exact thing when I got back later that evening.

The BF quickly came to the conclusion that she had OCD so he decided to let her know. This is what he left her:

He re-organized the sticks to say OCD. I’m not sure if she’s seen it but it’s still there.It’s a little mean but he thinks it will be good for her to realize that she suffers from OCD.

Later that evening, we found ourselves at a bar with some friends. We got to Kell’s a little too early for happy hour, which is why we went there in the first place, so to entertain ourselves we played a “drinking game” with GRE flashcards. We’re a rather rambunctious group of kids. Not really. Just lame. Haha.

Favourite word that I learned? ‘Cosset.’ It basically means ‘to pamper.’

All that was from last week. Between then and yesterday, I got time off from work and I’ve just been up to a whole lot of nothing.

Yesterday was rather productive because I had a couple meetings. After the first meeting of the day, I decided to have lunch at St. Honore on NW 2rd. Their pastries and entrees never fail to disappoint…

…until yesterday when I found a fly underneath my brioche cocette. Gross, yes? I was enjoying it up until that point so the fly was a rather unfortunate find. I like to complain (especially when it comes to hygiene) but I held back because I just didn’t have the patience nor the energy. Given the cleanliness of their bathrooms, however, the fly shouldn’t have come as a shock. Bathrooms are often good indicators of the kitchen’s cleanliness; there seems to be a positive correlation between the two.

Let’s all stick to the St. Honore in Lake Oswego.

I didn’t stay around for much longer after that. I decided to head on over to a coffee shop in the Pearl to take care of some loose ends online. They overcharged me for my caramel latte and although I didn’t really mind having to pay extra I wanted to point out their error. The cashier was just beyond confused so I gave up and told him to forget it. He sort of did and gave me a free drink coupon for next time. Sweet, I guess.

Later that evening, the BF and I went to check out ‘Taste of Jakarta,’ an Indonesian restaurant located right downtown. Excellent find, I think. It’s nothing fancy–paper plates and cups, plastic utensils, not too overly-decorated–but good service and great food. The food is a little greasier than what I’m used to but delicious and reasonably priced nevertheless. We were both uncomfortably full that even walking to our next destination was just painful.

Death by Indonesian food indeed.

And that’s some of the highlights from the past week. I guess this post makes it rather obvious that I really like food. Oh well. Who doesn’t like good food?

My Quest for Asian Food Delivery

My quest for an Asian restaurant in Portland, Ore. that delivers can be summed up as,

#PDX #fail

Yeah. I learned long, long ago that Asian restaurants in Portland simply don’t make house deliveries. A small handful have take-out service (call up to order, pick it up when it’s ready) but that just doesn’t quite cut it.

There was one time when I managed to convince the only Chinese restaurant that deliveredto venture out of their delivery area coverage. It was finals week, a friend and I had been couped up studying in the library all afternoon- and night-long, and we had neither the energy nor the time to make the 5-minute walk back to my apartment to even make ramen (not that I ever bought ramen…). Anyway, bad idea. It took the driver nearly two hours to make it to campus and that was after a lot of phone calls asking for directions in his broken English. The food was still hot and delicious but I don’t think that restaurant delivers at all anymore. My friend and I are probably to blame for that. Oh well.

When the dangerous combination of optimism, hunger, and hopefulness hits me, I still do extensive Googling and calling to check if any restaurants now deliver. But, nope–Asian restaurants in Portland refuse to be progressive. A lot of times I just shrug it off and venture into my own kitchen. Last night, however, it did make me embarassingly sad.

I was overcome with homesickness; I craved for comfort food. Much to the dismay/disbelief of the BF, I don’t consider mac and cheese, meatloaf, fried chicken, and the like to be comfort food. No, no. I’m Asian! Filipino if we’re being precise. Sure, I enjoy sushi, chicken tandoori, sweet and sour pork, and what not but what I really wanted/want is Filipino food.

Sisig with an egg cracked on top. Halo-halo. Laing. Pork inihaw. Kare-kare with lots of bagoong on the side. Balut.

Oh God. Just thinking about all that is making my mouth water and my eyes tear up.

Food can really represent–epitomize, even–a culture so it’s no wonder that people who are homesick just crave the food of their culture. There’s a Filipino restaurant in Portland but I think that its portions are too small and overpriced at that, and the location isn’t exactly convenient. That said, I’m thinking of making my way over to an Indonesian restaurant downtown tomorrow. (With the BF in tow, of course.) Indonesian and Malay food are as close as it gets to Filipino food.

So, Indonesian food it is tomorrow night.