This weekend, John’s fiance, Leta, was in town so we made a plan to meet at his recently purchased house on Magnolia and then have dinner somewhere in Ballard. We ended up at Picolinos (yes, I think it’s wrong, too, but that’s how they spell it), a very pretty restaurant in Sunset Hill. We had an excellent meal that was marred by rather bizarre service. The very Italian waiter, Dino, seemed very friendly and attentive when we arrived especially when I answered his greeting in Italian. He took our order alright although I thought he it was odd that he seemed to talk mostly to me while ignoring my brother and Leta. And then he disappeared. Underlings brought our food, pizza for John and the lobster pasta special for me and Leta. I tried to catch his attention a couple of times as he walked by to wait on other tables so I could order another glass of wine but he seemed to be deliberately avoiding looking at us. We sat with empty plates for some time before a busboy asked if he could clear them. We had intended to order desert and coffee but after having to ask for dessert menus from a busboy and then being ignored again as we waited to order dessert, we decided enough was enough and called across the room to Dino asking for our check which he placed at my brother’s elbow. I hate that. Why in this day and age would you assume that the man is going to pay? I gave him my credit card and when he brought the receipts back he again placed them at my brother’s elbow even though he knew it was my card. Now thoroughly annoyed, I gave him less then my usual generous tip. Still more than he deserved. If you go to Picolinos, avoid Dino’s section. I really don’t understand his attitude. The pasta dishes we ordered were among the most expensive things on the menu and we all had drinks and wine and would have liked to have spent more. It can’t be that we weren’t spending enough money. He seemed to be trying to flirt with me a little in that” I don’t really mean it but I’m being nice to an single signora” kind of way that I don’t respond well to. Maybe he got offended that I didn’t find that a compliment? Ick.

Restaurant grades: Food – A, Ambiance – A, Service – C maybe a C minus.

The rest of this weekend was rainy and reserved for laundry but next week I’m thinking Ballard Farmer’s Market and maybe a trip south to IKEA.

And now the sun is coming out. I think I’ll go for a walk to celebrate.

Hi Olivia and the rest of you guys in Ms. Isbell’s class! How’s Texas? I’m having a great time traveling. I’m here in Portland, Oregon which has been interesting . A big change from Dallas, you know. I got here last week and it has rained almost every day since I’ve been here. Terrell says it hardly rains at all in the summer but in the winter you can pretty much plan on rain at least part of every day. She’s happy that it doesn’t snow very often, though. Usually only a couple of times every winter. We did have one really warm and sunny day last week (Terrell says it was VERY unusual) so we grabbed the chance to get out and see a little bit of Portland.

Terrell says it’s easy to find your way around the city if you just remember a couple of things. First, there are two rivers. One of them runs east to west along the top edge of the city and it’s called  the Columbia. South of the Columbia is Oregon but if you go across to the northern bank you’re in Washington State. The city on that side is called Vancouver just like the city in Canada. They’re both named after the same guy. The other river, The Willamette, runs north right through the middle of Portland. All the streets east of the river have east in their name. All the streets on the west say west. The other thing to remember is that there is a long street called Burnside that runs east and west and splits the town into north and south. All the streets north of Burnside say north and all the streets south say south. So the river and Burnside divide the city into quarters, northeast (that’s where Terrell lives) southeast, northwest and southwest. It’s kind of like the Land of OZ.  Terrell says if I remember about the rivers and Burnside, I’ll never get lost. Sweet! Here’s a map so you can see what I mean. The blue balloons are some of the places we went on our day out.

View Flat Stanley in a larger map

So, back to the sunny day. We left the house about 11:00 in the morning to walk to the light rail station. The shadows were so long I got Terrell to take a picture to show you. She says in the winter, the days here are much shorter than in Dallas and that the sun sits really low in the southern sky so there are long shadows all day long not just in the morning and evening. That’s because Portland is so much further north than Dallas. Maybe Ms. Isbell can explain that better. The train station is only about 10 minutes’ walk from Terrell’s house. She says people try to use mass transit (like trains and buses) and bikes (it’s called the most bikeable city in America) and walking as much as possible here. Everybody is really into “green” living. Almost everybody who has a yard near Terrell has a garden and grows organic vegetables and they’re very careful about things like recycling and energy use.

We rode the train across the river (met a couple of nice people on the train), through downtown and into a tunnel that went through one of the western hills. We got out at a stop that was underground and rode the elevator up to the surface. We came out almost on the top of the hill next to the zoo and the Children’s Museum. It was such a pretty day that we decided to go for a little hike through the arboretum. An arboretum is kind of like a zoo for trees. They have as many kinds as they can and they have signs on each one to tell you what they are. Terrell says this one has way more trees than the arboretum in Dallas. Since we were on top of the hill there were lots of good views. At one place we could see Mt. Saint Helens and Mt Rainier. Mt. Rainier is a long ways away, almost to Seattle, so she said we had really good visibility to be able to see so far. Both those mountains and the one we saw later, Mt. Hood are really volcanoes. Mt. St. Helens erupted in 1980 and blew its top off so it’s not as pointy as the other volcanoes.

After the hike we took a bus to the Japanese Garden. It’s really famous. People come from all over to see it. Terrell tried hard to explain about Japanese art and why the garden looks like it does but I’m not sure I really got it. She says that there are lots of Asian-Americans who live in Portland and all along the Pacific Northwest Coast so it’s important to know about their history and culture. The Chinese came here a long time ago to work on the railroads and the Japanese came because of the good farm land. Now days, a lot of the people coming here are from Vietnam. It makes for an exciting mix of people and cultures. Anyway, I thought the leaves were pretty. People sure were taking a lot of pictures. Here I am with Terrell in front of a Japanese maple tree.

After the Japanese garden we walked down the hill to another garden where there were lots of roses. Terrell says that Portland is nicknamed the City of Roses. During the summer, you can see roses blooming just about everywhere and they have a big rose festival with parades and queens and everything. This garden is even more famous than the Japanese garden. It has over 7000 rose bushes! Terrell said when she came here in the early summer, she met people from seven different countries. After the rose garden we walked down the hill through Washington Park all the way to town. We went past some really nice houses and neighborhood called “Uptown” where Terrell said a lot of the cool kids live just like in Dallas. We passed the baseball stadium that will also be the home of the new Major League Soccer team next year.

Terrell said that for lunch we really needed to eat at a food cart. I didn’t think that sounded very good but she explained that the food carts of Portland are a local phenomenon. She’s not sure how they got started but now they are all over the city. A bunch of them will be clustered together (they call this a “pod” of food carts) usually at the edge of a parking lot. Each cart is like a little restaurant. Most of them have one or two tables on the sidewalk and a lot of them serve really, really good food. Terrell said that you can think of just about any food in the world and there will probably be a food cart in Portland that serves it. Texas BBQ, Vietnamese Pho, French Crepes, Argentinean Empanadas…it’s like a huge outdoor food court. Terrell and I split a doner wrap from a cart called Ali Baba’s that serves Turkish food. Terrell had a good time talking to the owner about his home town, Istanbul, and her favorite parts of Turkey. He even gave her a free cup of Turkish tea. She said it was really good.

After lunch we kept walking through downtown until we got to the river. There’s a nice park there with a walkway along the water and lots of grass and trees. The weather was so nice that a lot of people were sitting on the grass and enjoying the sun. Terrell says, who knows, it might be the last time until next summer! We were watching some little boats and jet skis out on the river when alarm bells on the bridge close to us went off. I was a little worried but Terrell told me it was just that the bridge was about to open to let a big boat go up the river. We got to watch the draw bridge go up and the barge go through. Terrell even made a little video so I could show you.

We had walked a really long ways at this point so we climbed the stairs up to the beginning of the bridge on Burnside and caught the bus home. I was really tired but it was a great day. I can see why Terrell likes it here even though it rains so much.

Hey Olivia (Terrell talking again). Thanks for sending Stanley to visit me. You can see more pictures from our day out on Flickr. Just click here. I wish I could have taken him around more. There’s so much more to see around Portland. We could have gone to see the vineyards down in the Willamette Valley or to the beach since the Pacific Ocean is only about an hour or so away. In another week or two we could have gone snowshoeing or snowboarding up on Mt. Hood. I just started two new jobs, though, so I’ve been really busy. I’m excited to have these jobs since I’ve been looking for work for almost a year. One problem with a place as nice as Portland is that a lot of people want to live here and there aren’t really enough jobs to go around. Anyway, I’m sending Stanley on to his next destination. I’m sure you’ll hear from him again soon!

We’ve had some beautiful weather lately. It’s more or less fall with a good sprinkling of Indian summer. One partly cloudy day last week I decided I wanted a slightly more challenging walk than my daily round. I checked my bike route map and noticed something called Rocky Butte. The beginning is the same as my regular walk but at the golf course you turn east instead of continuing north up the ridge. Another mile or so through a residential neighborhood takes you to 91st which leads you to Rocky Butte Road. I’m already a couple of miles into the walk at this point and the sign says it’s 1.4 miles along an historic scenic route to the top. The incline is not slight. Houses on stilts are more or less directly over my head. Am I really up for this? The sight of WPA 30′s style stone markers by the road and the thought that those houses wouldn’t be perched on those stilts without a good view send me up the hill. Slogging upward I am rewarded with occasional glimpses through the trees and then a tunnel. I love tunnels. The road loops around on itself to get up the hill requiring a 90 degree angle inside the tunnel. Nice. More slogging and I get to the first of the houses. Yes, good views but only glimpses through windows and in between walls. More houses, more slices of views. A saddle back of flat ground and then more climbing to…ahh..perfect, a WPA gray stone-walled park at the top with spectacular views along the Columbia and toward downtown. The sun came out. The grass was emerald green. There was only one couple who were busy admiring each other rather than the view. On the way down I stopped to look for the source of an unusual bird call (mmmeep, mmmmmeep) when I heard the screech of a raptor and nearly fell off the mountain while trying to watch the flight of the hawk twenty feet over my head while simultaneously grabbing for my camera and trying to negotiate rocky terrain and thorny vegetation. Totally awesome walk, even though Mt. Hood was being shy that day. Can’t wait to go back on a really clear day to see how far I can see.

Yesterday, I had an interview for a job in Vancouver (front desk, Red Lion Hotel, seems unlikely that I’ll get that one). When I looked up driving directions on the internet, I realized there was a path along the Columbia starting almost from the hotel’s front door. Since the weather was fantastic, sunny and warm, I threw my shoes and walking clothes in the car and, after the interview, did a quick change act in the parking lot (discreetly, I hope) and set out east along the north bank. It’s a great walk. Nice park. Good sidewalk. Beach access. Very little traffic except for the large number of moms with strollers. There’s a tunnel under the railroad line that takes you to a cool interpretive walkway and bridge over the highway which takes you to the site of Fort Vancouver. Nothing much was happening there but there’s some kind of festival this weekend that I may go back for. After about a mile the walk veers away from the river (it continues for about four miles, coming back to the water at some point) so I turned around and came back. This walk definitely goes on my take out of town guests here list especially since there’s a McMenamins at the one mile mark. Walk a mile, have a beer, walk back. Sounds good, eh?

OK, restaurants. Perhaps you recall that I entered a loaf of bread in the Grand Central Baking contest a couple of weeks ago and won dinner for two at Por Que No Taqueria. Friday, A and I went to claim the prize at their Mississippi location, a very cool, hip, happening part of town. At 7:30 on a Friday there was a line just slightly out the door at this cute little place that consciously tries to imitate a Mexican taverna. The line moved quickly and in just a few minutes we were asking the woman at the cash register to clarify what the  ”dinner for two and two drinks” on the gift certificate actually covered. Anything you want. Seriously? Seriously. OK. We ordered chips and salsa, three tacos for A, two tacos for me, a side of rice and beans, a pomegranate margarita for A and sangria for me. All covered. Now thatwas a pretty nice prize. I think we could have asked for a lot more and gotten it with no complaint. Kudos to Por Que No. So how was the food? The chips were excellent (I say this as a native Texan and serious chip connoisseur), the salsa pretty good and very fresh. My fish taco was just ok and I continue to assert that pineapple should not be present in savory dishes of any description. The asado taco was very tasty. Both were very small and I probably would have been less happy if I had been paying real money. The rice and beans had some kind of weird sharp taste to them, possibly the white cheese. Neither A or I cared for them and we left them mostly uneaten.

The second restaurant (OK, it’s really a bar not a restaurant) came immediately afterwards. We walked up Mississippi, past the resale shops and the hipsters smoking outside Mississippi Studios to Lupa wine bar. It’s dark and narrow and woody with a wall of wine bottles and a single server, the owner. We grabbed the only empty table at the back and, after chatting with the owner, A chose a carafe of white something or other (can you tell I’m not really a wine person?) that I thought was very good. It seemed like a great place. The owner was interesting with her super high heels and her dress cut down to here to show off the Chinese characters tattooed on her chest. I bet she’d be fun to talk to. My only complaint was the music which seemed to have been selected based on whether or not there was a screaming vocal line. A told me the music was usually great. I think we hit a bad night. The carafe provided roughly four glasses of wine for $25 so not too bad.

Last night, V invited me to join him at the opera, the opening production of the season. He and K had gone to opening night and he wanted me to have a chance to see it too. He also took me to dinner before the show (yes, he is a super nice guy). I wasn’t terribly hungry so we decided to go to Cafe Castagna where he said I could get a salad. It was very good. We were early so we didn’t have to wait at all. I had two appetizers, the bibb lettuce salad and the corn soup with tiny bits of mushrooms and bacon as a garnish. Both were delicious. V had the same salad, the lamb over polenta and sauteed spinach as a side. Oh, we started with a couple of whiskey sours. Everything was really good. The drinks were strong and not too sweet. The salad was nicely dressed. The service was pleasant and appropriately informal. I was strong and didn’t get the arrancini appetizer.

Which leads me to the opera. V dropped me off to pick up the tickets at will call while he parked. There was some confusion and I had to wait until he returned to have him sort it out. Something snafued with Ticketmaster but it got worked out. V is friends with a guy at the opera so we got to upgrade to some much better floor seats that he had reserved for emergencies. No emergency so we got the seats, woohoo! The interior of the hall wouldn’t win any beauty contests. It clearly hasn’t been renovated in a while but the sound was good and the seats were reasonably comfortable so I was happy. The first part of the program was Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci. It was very enjoyable. The sets were minimal but the singing and the orchestra were good so who needs sets? Canio was particularly strong. My only complaint might have been the English translations of the lyrics. I know I’m old fashioned but they seemed a little crude to me.  The second part was Carmina Burana which they quite ingeniously tied to the first half by using two of the same soloists and starting Carmina with the same tableau that finished Pagliacci. The chorus was very good. The dancing was fun to watch, especially the lead girl who was incredibly strong. All together I thought the production made excellent use of their fairly limited resources (this is no San Francisco or even Houston, you know) to put together a memorable performance. Yeah, Portland!

Good week. Next week, interview with the OSU fan store. Wouldn’t that be a fun job.

Last night, ready to cook, I pulled up the recipe again. Hmmm, her recipe is for cheese strata with chard. Why was I so sure it was black kale? Ahh, the kale was in the panade. OK, another substitution. Of course I was also using my leftover whole grain bread for her french baguette and some random bits of cheese I wanted to clear out of the fridge instead of the Gruyère she listed. I guess we’ll see how it comes out.

An hour or so later and I was pretty pleased with myself. I had accomplished my goal of using up some of that bread and made myself a pretty tasty dinner. Here’s the recipe…

Strata with Cavolo Nero and Mushrooms (seriously adapted from Martha Rose Shulman)

• 4 or 5 thick slices of whole grain bread (I used about 4 cups of my Pilgrim Bread)
• 1 tablespoon butter
• 1/2 pound of crimini mushrooms, coarsely chopped
• half bunch (about 8 ounces I think) of cavolo nero/dark leaf kale, stemmed and cleaned
• 3 garlic cloves, 1 cut in half, the other two minced
• 2 cups of milk (I used 2%)
• 3/4 cup of grated cheese, tightly packed (I used what I had in the fridge, about half goat cheddar and half kasseri)
• 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 teaspoon dried rosemary
• salt and pepper to taste
• 4 large eggs
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• freshly ground pepper

Preheat the oven to 350. Oil or butter a two quart baking dish or gratin pan.

If the bread is soft, as mine was, toast it lightly and then rub each slice front and back with the halved garlic clove. If your bread is really stale, you can skip the toasting. Cut into 1 inch dice. Place in a large bowl and toss with 2/3 cup of the milk. Set aside.

In a large skillet, saute the mushrooms in the butter for 2 to 3 minutes, just until they smell good. Remove from skillet and set aside. Add the still wet kale to the skillet and cook over medium high heat until it starts to wilt. Cover the pan and let the kale steam until it has collapsed, about 5 minutes. Add more water if needed but just enough to steam not boil it. Uncover and stir. When all the kale has wilted, remove from the pan and rinse in cold water. Squeeze to get out the remaining moisture and then chop and set aside.

Add 1 tablespoon of the olive oil to the skillet and quickly saute the chopped garlic over medium heat. Stir in the mushrooms, rosemary and kale. Stir together and season with salt and pepper. Remember that the cheese and bread both have salt in them so adjust your seasonings with that in mind (my dish turned out slightly too salty because of this, I think). Remove from the heat and add the kale mixture to the bread cubes. Add the grated cheeses (oh, not the Parm, that comes later), toss to mix and then arrange in the prepared baking dish.

Beat the eggs in a medium bowl. Add the remaining milk, the 1/2 teaspoon of salt and some freshly ground pepper. Pour over the bread mixture. Press the bread down into the eggs. Sprinkle the Parmesan on the top and drizzle the other tablespoon of oil on top of that. (The oil thing is in Martha’s recipe. I have to admit that I couldn’t tell there was oil there and will probably not waste the effort next time I make the dish.)

Place in the oven and bake 40 to 50 minutes until puffed and browned. Serves 4 to 6.

Martha says you can do all the hard work ahead, up to the egg step, and it will keep, covered, in your fridge up to a couple of days. Add the egg and milk when you’re ready to bake.

Next time I make this I will probably halve the recipe and bake it in a small dish. It’s way too much for one person to dispose of. I’ll likely let the bread sit out to get a little more stale before toasting. And as I said, I will cut the salt a little bit. The crimini were fabulous, great flavor. It was, however, the rosemary that really made it.

I had read about the Kelley Point Park out on the tip of the peninsula where the Columbia and the Willamette meet so I decided that would be my destination. I zigzagged my way through the northeast, enjoying the drive especially once I got to Marine Drive that follows the south bank of the Columbia. I got a little lost trying to get through the intersection where Marine Drive, 99E which is also MLK Boulevard and I-5 all meet up. That bit of misdirection took me through Delta Park but I soon righted myself and continued west on Marine past the wide empty spaces of the Expo Center. I started getting a serious deja vu sense here. I must have been in this area for some convention visit during my Seattle days but I couldn’t figure out when. The bookseller’s conventions are always in the Rose Quarter. Maybe it was when I was working for the magazine distributor?

Past the acres of industrial parks, I finally saw the sign for Kelley Point. Hmmm. Orange vested guys at the entrance waved me through the entrance. Maybe it gets really busy on sunny Saturdays and they need parking control? More orange vest guys were waiting beside a small parking lot with a temporary sign limiting it to vendors finally convinced me that something big was happening at the park today. An orange vest guy with a bandana tied over long blond dreads stopped me and asked if I was just here “to enjoy.” When I nodded he told me to park further along the road. I did and then ignored the golf carts ferrying people somewhere along a dirt trail. I followed the path through the trees where I could already hear amplified music. Not good for the picnic lunch, reading by the shore day I had in mind but maybe it would turn out to be something cool. When I got to the cluster of booths, some advertising medical marijuana clinics and others loaded with displays of bongs and pipes, I finally realized that I had stumbled into a version of hempfest. I defintely need to find a better on-line event calendar. I decided to go as far as the river to see if I could find a spot that would be far enough away from the festival to enjoy but when I got to the beach I found tents and people and the unmistakable aroma of weed. Not that I disapprove. It just isn’t my scene and SO not what I had in mind for my day.

I walked back to the car, fought my way out through the crowds walking in from the road (didn’t they wish they had my parking spot) and continued east on Marine, knowing that it would bend south and turn into Lombard. I made a couple of false starts looking for another place to access the river and then saw that I was near the St. John’s bridge. I saw a sign for a boat ramp and headed down the hill. I found myself at Cathedral Park which is now my new favorite spot. The grass was green. There were benches. I could see the water and watch the boat traffic. The bulk of the gothic steel bridge soared above my head. I made myself comfortable in the nearly empty park, pulled out my lunch and my book and enjoyed a perfect hour. After eating I decided a walk across the bridge would be nice. The view was great with Mt. Hood in the distance and the green of Forest Park in front of me. I took a few pictures. Just a few. A stroll through the St. John’s retail district–the bookstore, I’m afraid, was not all that I had hoped–and I was ready to return to the car. Driving past the University of Portland I watched people heading to an afternoon of football in the decorated stadium. I guess it really is fall. The drive along Willamette with its fabulous views and bicycle lane had me planning a really long bike ride. I don’t think I’m in good enough shape to go that far but maybe I could transit the bike part of the way. The roses were blooming in Peninsula Park and I’m pretty sure there’s a bakery I need to visit on Rosa Parks.

More pictures here.

I wanted to get going while it was still reasonably cool so I was on the road by 9 a.m. Actually, I had hoped to go even earlier to get some morning light in the photographs but 9 wasn’t bad by my standards. I decided to take 99E down to Canby since I had never really driven that way before. Yes, I know it’s called Swan Island Dahlias but they are not located on (in) Swan Island. According to their website they started out there but moved to Canby in the 1940s. The drive down took me through Portland’s industrial districts on the east bank of the Willamette. Between checking out the interesting businesses and watching the flashing views of downtown and the river, I’m lucky I didn’t have an accident. There’s at least one fruit and produce business I’m going to have to go back to find. Near Sellwood the highway has a lovely tree-lined stretch that reminds me of the parkways of New York State. Below that I passed through Milwaukie (home Bob’s Red Mill featured in last week’s post) with some interesting small town sights. There’s a place called The Bomber Restaurant that I may have to visit. It has an actual WWII bomber in the parking lot.

South of Milwaukie is Oregon City which looked like it would make an excellent outing all by itself. There are plenty of historic buildings and a beautiful old bridge crossing the river. And from here down to Canby there were great flashes of views along the river with bluffs and rocky outcroppings and stone walls. I’m really lucky I didn’t have an accident along here. I was reminded again how much I love driving the old highways. Why would anyone drive on an interstate when you could see all this scenery and history?

As soon as I got to the outskirts of Canby (OK, they’re not very big skirts) I saw the sign for the dahlia farm and made the turn onto Territorial Road. A quick drive through some new housing developments and then a turn took me back into farm land. One more turn and I could see the flowers. All I can say is wow. 40 acres. 350 varieties. Every one of them in full technicolor bloom. I parked. I walked. I photographed. I admired. After an hour of flower overload, I bought four huge bunches of cut flowers for $6 each and was ready to head for home. First, though, I investigated the signs that pointed down the road to the Canby Ferry. If it had been waiting at the dock (it wasn’t) or if I had any idea where to go on the other bank (I didn’t) I would have been ferry bound. I am totally planning to go back now that I’ve done a little research. The ferry and the farm are also right next to a state park. The Molalla River State Park looks like a fantastic place for a picnic and riverside hike and will definitely also figure in any return trip plan.

Things to remember to bring next time I do this trip:

1. extra batteries for camera
2. bucket to hold cut flowers so I don’t have to rush back to town
3. detailed state map that shows small country roads
4. ferry fare
5. picnic lunch
6. hiking boots

Can’t wait. Many more pictures on Flickr.

I’ve been baking a lot of bread lately. It’s a very satisfying process. I like the physical work of kneading the dough and it’s pretty magical to take such simple basic ingredients and turn them into a loaf of bread. It also doesn’t hurt that people are always impressed with the results. When I moved to Portland, I was excited to realize that Bob’s Red Mill is a local company. I’ve been using their flours in my breads for years and was curious to see what their production facility looks like. I checked their website and saw that they have daily tours and decided I needed to see that. I considered taking the great-kids with me but I wasn’t sure how child oriented the tour would be so I went by myself to check it out.

The mill is in Milwaulkie, to the south of me but still on the east side of the river. It took about thirty minutes to get there. I parked in the last of the visitor spots right next to the vintage auto by the front door. There were already about 15 other people waiting for the tour to start. I checked in, got my badge and asked the uniformed attendant why there were two pianos in the room. She said, oh some of the employees like to play. A few minutes later, Bob himself arrived with his executive assistant and they sat down and played a duet for us. He made a few remarks and then left to go back to work, leaving us with the tour guide. It wasn’t a particularly exciting tour since you only get to look at things through windows and can’t see a whole lot but the tour guide did a good job. She was knowledgeable, answered questions readily and tried hard to keep the kids on the tour interested. She asked us questions and tour members who guessed the right answers got a wooden token for a free cookie at the company store down the road. Very nice marketing ploy. Yes, I did get the first token. Anyway, she explained how the mills worked, a combination of ancient and modern technology with traditional quartz millstones encased in up-to-the-moment Scandinavian-designed steel and plastic. She told us there were two completely separate production lines to keep the gluten free items gluten free. She showed us the packing machines. We were looking at some antique mill machines when Bob reappeared–an infrequent occurence according to the tour guide. He answered some technical questions that showed he has a keen grasp of the science involved in milling and then told a wonderful story about the early days of the business when he would stand in an open window on the third floor of the old wooden mill during the early morning hours of an all night grind feeling the whole building hum with the rhythm of the spinning mill stones as the sun came up over the neighboring fields. Did I mention that this internationally successful business man, science geek, piano-playing poetic soul is 82? Pretty cool.

That was pretty much the end of the tour. Not a really thrilling experience but I will take my natural food enthusiast sister-in-law to see it next time she comes to town. She’ll like it. I did go to the store to claim my cookie which, btw, was excellent. There were many more products than you see in your normal grocery store. I passed on the twenty-five pound sacks of flour and bravely resisted the proofing baskets but I did pick up some flaxseed meal and a bag of wheat berries. I’ve already used some of the flax and I’m making plans for those wheat berries.

Driving north on 99E it occurred to me that as long as I was this far south, I should stop by Otto’s Sausage, especially since it was lunch time. I splurged on three kinds of sausage (smoked pork, Portuguese linguisa and Tuscan chicken) along with a few slices of alder-smoked bacon. Since it was an absolutely gorgeous day, I also got a chicken sausage fresh off the outdoor grill and sat at one of the outdoor picnic tables to enjoy its smoky goodness. Later that evening I added the linguisa to black beans cooked with onions and Karina’s collard greens, spiced with thyme and cayenne, and served over jasmine rice. Ooh, you wish you had been there.

Saturday, I drove to Hollywood for the Farmer’s Market. Usually, I walk the two miles over but I wanted to stock up a bit and needed the car for transportation. There is a Farmer’s Market closer to home, in Montavilla, but the Hollywood one is much larger with more selection and a livelier scene. They always have music, prepared food booths, bakeries, and lots more farmers. Next Saturday I have plans to visit the big market downtown. I want to be sure to get there before the best of the summer produce is gone so I can get the full effect.

In Hollywood, I hit the berry farms first for raspberries, blueberries and nectarines and then went for the vegetables. I had plans for a mediterranean stew so I bought eggplants and hot peppers. I needed to put up pesto for the winter so I got six beautiful bunches of basil for the bulk price of $1.50 each and a couple of heads of heirloom garlic. And it’s time to stock the freezer with vine ripe creole tomato sauce so I got several pounds of beautiful tomatoes. A trip to Trader Joe’s for olive oil and pine nuts and I was set.

Sunday was pesto and bread baking day. I wanted to try out some revisions to the oatmeal bread I made last week. I think it came out well. And while the bread was rising and baking I managed to put up six cups of pesto now waiting in the freezer to brighten up some dark and dreary winter day with summer flavor. Today is reserved for the creole sauce. I should have orange fingers by afternoon.

I started out badly, of course. It was hot. I made the wrong decision about where to get on the highway. Then I made two wrong turns. It took forever to get out of town. Then there was construction and traffic. It was hot. I considered bagging the whole enterprise. Finally, the road cleared out enough to make driving reasonably enjoyable. There were many signs for wineries. I can see that this would be a really nice drive in cooler weather, especially if you had tourists (i.e. out of town guests) in tow. If I hadn’t screwed up the beginning of the trip it would have taken me about two hours to get to noticeably improved temperatures on the western side of the Coastal Range. Deep breath.

Coming into Lincoln City the traffic was crazy. It was foggy and chilly so after briefly considering looking for a hotel, I turned north and drove up 101 trying to get away from the crowds. The fog hugged the coast so every time the road went slightly inland the skies turned blue and the temperature went up 15 degrees. Cow country was lovely. I tried to stop at the Tillamook factory for bathrooms and icecream but the parking lot was a mad house. I took one spin through hoping for some parking karma but got nothing. I kept going north. Going around Tillamook Bay was beautiful. The fog was just a bank on the western horizon, the water and the sky were blue, the breeze cool. I spotted a little sandwich shop with a nice green lawn and picnic tables so I stopped for a home roasted turkey sandwich. Not bad. Needed better bread to stand up to the fillings.

It was already after two when I got to Rockaway so I decided to stop pursuing the illusive sun and enjoy a 61 degree walk on Rockaway’s long straight beach. Fortunately, I happened to have a spare jacket stowed in the trunk so I didn’t freeze. I did about an hour and a half out and back and then was ready to head for home.

Coming back across 6 was a strange sensation. You know how when you drive up into the mountains it gets cooler and cooler as you ascend especially when you’re driving into a pine forest? This time it got warmer and warmer. It’s a great twisty drive and the traffic was reasonable. Polite, too. Up at the crest, there’s a popular river bathing area that was packed with teenagers. I’ll avoid that until they’re back in school. Coming down into the city was a depressing return to the heat but a cold shower and a cold salad helped. And today is looking good.

Yes, my tiny little salad garden has yielded its first basil harvest. That can only mean one thing: Green Risotto. We used to eat green risottos in Italy often, usually made with whatever herbs were happening in the garden at the moment. If you really wanted to impress a guest you’d make three risottos, one milanese as the “white,” one tomato as the “red” and one herb or spinach as the “green.” Lined up in a serving dish you get the Italian flag. Pretty but TONS of work. My brother, John, makes a good green risotto that is pretty much a basil pesto mixed into the rice with a garnish of pine nuts. Tasty, but I like this super green recipe that packs more of a chlorophyll punch.

Green Risotto

Ingredients

• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1/3 cup finely minced scallion
• 2 finely minced garlic cloves
• 1 cup arborio rice
• 3 to 4 cups chicken broth
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1/2 cup loosely packed fresh basil
• 1 1/2 cup loosely packed fresh spinach (well-washed, large stems removed)
• 1/2 cup loosely packed Italian parsley
• 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese
• salt and pepper to taste

This is one of those recipes that works better if you have everything in place before you start cooking so mince the scallion and garlic, wash and pick over the greens, measure the rice and have the chicken stock simmering before you start the main burner. If you have tasty homemade chicken stock then more power to you. Canned or boxed works fine too and if you don’t have those on hand a cube or two of Knorr’s chicken bouillon will do almost as well.

Heat the olive oil in a good sized heavy bottom pot. The pot is important because it helps keep the rice from sticking (and burning). You can do this in, say, a Revere Ware pot but keep a closer eye on it and stir even more often. Add the scallion to the oil and saute over medium heat until softened. Add the garlic and then the rice, stirring to make sure all the rice grains are coated in oil. Cook for a couple of minutes. A lot of cookbooks say “until the rice is opaque” but I don’t find that a very clear direction. Two or three minutes should do it. Add a couple of ladles of hot broth and stir. As the rice absorbs the liquid add more broth. Most recipes say to stir constantly. You don’t have to stir constantly, especially at the beginning. When there’s plenty of liquid stir a little. As it gets absorbed stir more. Just don’t let the rice stick to the bottom or you’ll wind up with a burnt mess. Keep adding stock gradually until the rice is “al dente.” For one cup of rice, over medium heat, that should take about twenty minutes give or take a few. Best way to tell is to taste and see if it’s still crunchy. While the rice is cooking, put the basil, spinach, parsley and butter in a food processor and process until as smooth as possible. When the rice is almost ready, add the greens mixture. Stir a minute or two to let the rice absorb the greeniness. Turn off the heat. Add the parmesan and salt and pepper to taste. I don’t really put pepper in mine but I might someday. Let the finished dish rest for a few minutes to set a bit. Garnish with a sprinkle of parm if desired.

I often vary the quantities of greens depending on what I’ve got. More spinach gets you a greener rice. More basil makes it really fragrant.

Technically, this should make about four servings but I have a hard time stopping at one bowl full. Tastes like summer to me.