Home "Sweet" Home

By many accounts, Portland is one of the great food towns of the era. Inventive chefs, locally sourced ingredients, artisanal and heirloom products in all sorts of categories including chocolate and beer (and especially locally raised produce and wild caught fish and seafood) all add up to some unforgettable experiences at the table. And so on each trip back to town, beside seeking out some great restaurant meals on our own, we have taken the time for both walking tours of the city that specialize in gastronomic businesses, and cooking classes in which to hone our skills for back home.

Amazing seasonal ice cream flavors in large portions make a good (and cheap) dinner plan when you've had a full and tiring day.

The company we have used with great success for our tours is Portland Walking Tours, especially the "Epicurean Excursions." (They also offer wonderful cultural tours, but hey, isn't food the heart of culture?) The excursions take about 3 1/2 to 4 hours while you wander in and out of local cultural icons, through the streets of downtown and the Pearl district, and include tastes, treats, local folklore and a grand introduction to life in the city. Because we had previously done a morning tour with its tea and coffee and bakery emphasis, we wanted to try something in the afternoon where liquor might make an appearance. Unfortunately those slots were sold out way in advance, and we had to "settle" for another morning round. Fate was on our side for this one. When we showed up at the sumptuous library room of the historic Heathman Hotel, our guide, Pat, was waiting for us with the good news that we were on a private tour! Not only didn't we have to vie for position to hear and see, but we had the opportunity to ask all the questions and steer the conversation to wherever we pleased. Pat, a fabulously talented local, had stories of her own to tell, being a performing artist possessed of multiple talents, even to the point of having had a small guest appearance on our favorite Portland based television show, "Grimm"! Best! Day! Ever! (Well, until the next and the next...you get my drift.) And don't you know, we did got to eat pizza and try out a grand tasting tray at a brewpub anyway.

Pat introduces us to the legendary food cart scene with an amazing waffle by Gaufre Gourmet. Go check out this page for a visual menu of their sinfully rich products.

Cheryl across the street from "Cheryl's" where we stopped on the tour and then returned again for a solid breakfast before out 4T Trail outing. (See Adventures in High Places)

Portlanders, in our experience, are contagiously friendly. Our guide and one of "Cheryl's" managers.

Dave and I prepare to "taste" (wolf down) a sample of the Portuguese fried rice, a breakfast menu staple here.

Not to be outdone by the restaurants and tour businesses, our hotel, Kimpton's Portland Monaco, shows how true hospitality works by hosting a wine and hors d'oeuvres hour every afternoon from five to six, made notable in this town by the willingness of strangers to mingle, play games, share a canvas to paint on, and just generally feel like everyone dropped in to say "Hi!" Besides drinking and chatting, I spent some time on a watercolor and ink sketch of the scene, calculated to bring back not the reality of the room, so much as the whimsical feeling of the time.

"Momma" always drinks red, while "Dad" goes for white or beer. One reason we rarely order a bottle of wine in a restaurant. 

Sumptuous decor and a lively atmosphere.

The journal page spread. The "mermaid" lamp was actually shaped like that without the head. Somehow it evolved. The goldfish crackers are there to eat, but they are also the hotel mascot, and available in a live version to keep you company in your room if you request one.

Portland city parks have beautiful old drinking fountains, but unfortunately some are "for the birds". It wasn't a hot day, so we weren't quite sure why this pigeon felt the need to cool his/her brow.

Midweek we started getting serious about the idea of the upcoming retirement relocation, and returned to one of the neighborhoods we had previously looked at, on the edge of the Portland State University campus in SW. We re-toured an apartment previously seen three years ago and did a further check of the neighborhood. We were quite happy to find a food cart "pod" just around the corner, and a wonderful plaza right behind the apartment building to sit and enjoy our takeout lunch.

Relaxing at the university right in the shadow of our possible new home.

Our tour was of an upper level apartment that would give us a grand view of downtown, the Willamette River and Mount Hood/ Mount St. Helens in the near distance.

And here is the view from that bedroom window.

Breakfasts throughout the week continued to be enjoyed in "sugar land." While we don't normally eat donuts and other pastries at home, hey, this was vacation.

Blue Star Donuts. 

Humor, but I think they wouldn't mind if you take it seriously and share.

Enough donut to last me for a year of donut eating: Blueberry Bourbon Basil

Another favorite bakery in which we donned hairnets and toured the kitchen, Pearl Bakery.

Luckily (for our svelte figures, unluckily for the sheer thrill it might have been,) we would not be around for the Feast Portland event. You gotta love their honesty and hype on the banner: "artisanal everything" "waistline destroyer" "4 day food coma" !

On our last night in town, instead of a having regular restaurant meal, we decided to go "participatory" by signing up for a class in Moroccan flavors in cooking at the local Sur La Table kitchen store. Not only did we have a fun time, gain some useful skills, and eat a great meal, but we actually met a lovely couple who live in the same neighborhood we are thinking of moving to! Small and friendly world, this city.

Dave, who never lifts a knife in the preparation of food at home (except to cut up a banana for cereal) shows some admirable talent with a chef knife and an onion.

And so, a too brief sojourn in "the mighty gastropolis" comes to an end. Did I mention the airport is only fifteen minutes from downtown, and was voted "best in America" by Travel and Leisure Magazine readers? Can a town be too good?

Last Chance

Haven't I been telling them for years? Come to Chicago! We've got a world class city here folks. People travel here from all around the world to see the grandeur, the art and architecture, the famous streets and stores, the lake that looks like the ocean, such that the city has actual sandy beaches right here in the middle of the country. But no, twenty-two years and I could count the visitors on just my fingers, no toes needed. Well this time, the suggestion was firmer: you are running out of time, because we have soaked up as much mid western love as we can, and we are ready to move on to a new coastal adventure. Not sure the exact date of departure, but sometime before the weather turns colder in 2015. So let's do this town together one more time.

This summer we had two sets of company in quick succession: reunion of high school besties on my side, and reunion of childhood besties/first cousins on his. I was so occupied with being hostess and tour guide and enjoying myself in the bargain, that the photos caught on the run or in a few quiet moments in the hotel room will have to serve as the evidence of what I said: this is a special place with a kind of energy that will either invigorate or suck you dry. Luckily for us, it has inspired and refreshed and now we are ready for a city of more personal dimensions. But that is a story for later.

The images here aren't necessarily in a chronological (or logical order), but represent moments on the fly of playfulness, companionship with company, strangers, and the city itself. It is a place that invites awe: so often you must look up to behold it, but also, it invites participation.

We see ourselves reflected in an iconic sculpture.

Sometimes we are lost in the image.

Sometimes the image seems illusive to capture.

The view in summer is complicated with foliage and people. Winter, though difficult on some levels, is the ideal time for broad expanses.

Unless you stand on a bridge high above the fray.

Short among the tall, but I can aspire to their heights.

From the river, a juxtaposition of old and new. The best way to view the history of architecture and commerce: a river tour.

Trump's tower was just as easy to spot without the monster sized letters. It was far more pure and beautiful a design without.

But this water garden in a plaza at its base is peaceful and low key, and  invites even those of us without the "bucks" to pause and reflect.

A typical architectural tour boat ready for a spin.

I can never get enough of Marina Towers, either day or night views.

Too busy enjoying my company and my food experience, this shot of a typical food station at "'Eataly" is the only one to survive the day.

Back at "Cloudgate," aka "The Bean," I take delight in images and the joy of other visitors as we each dance the same dance with reflection, distortion, and imagining.

For just a moment I feel so connected to the joy of art, the crowds, and the city.

The "Crown Fountain" by Jaume Plensa bears the images of hundreds of real Chicagoans on its two 50 foot towers with cascading water and a shallow wading pool that draws children and delight.

About every five minutes the face of the moment becomes a gargoyle as it "spits" water from its mouth onto the waiting crowd of little ones.

The Art Institute is a favorite stop and this summer we twice attended the amazing exhibition of works by Surrealist, Rene Magritte. But almost as surprisingly arresting was the free exhibit of sculpture and mixed media painting by local artist, Hebru Brantley, called "Parade Day Rain." It will be on display at the Cultural Center through September 23, if you plan to be in town.

A view of an apartment balcony along Wabash with the resident in residence brought out my longings for the soon to be relocation to city life.

In recent years we always stay at the Hotel Monaco with the pillowed window seat views of Wabash and Wacker, the Chicago River, Marina City, Trump Tower, the el train, and my favorite city clock with a winged father time, and his lantern.

The Water Taxi, an efficient way to travel in this city that seems to have enough roadway taxis to accommodate every person who desires one.

A magic hour.

Inside the room, a mellow vibe and a goldfish. Unfortunately, this one did not survive the night. Just like in the stories where parents don't wish to traumatize their children with the reality of dead pets, my "fixer" had the floater replaced while I showered unaware of the switch.

The elevated train performs its wheel squealing turn around this bend all day and (seemingly) all night.

The girl in her window seat, the man relaxing with his Internet browser and some mellow music from "Austin City Limits" on the tube. Perfect down time after a frenetic day.

Darkness descends on a beautiful summer evening.

In this bowl there is no real day or night.

But out here the magic begins. Standing at the base of the towers across from the famous "House of Blues," we prepare for a bit of ten pin fun.

A favorite restaurant, but not this evening.

A hotel that can't settle on a name or an owner, although seemingly it has kept the same identity through recent changes. The cool and modern lobby of what was for a time the Hotel Sax.

And just next door our destination, an upscale bowling alley with music, food and alcoholic libation, a party for rent (along with the shoes.)

And so ends the day, watching the pleasure boats, and floating parties as they pass below on the river.

Surveying the dramatic skyline and taking in the energy of this beautiful night.

Magic!

The company has gone and we are on our own, taking a breather at a local historical park. 

A profile I love and that brings me peace of mind.

This is a popular place for weddings, but today we are alone enjoying the mature plantings in and around the gazebo and gardens.

Pretty soon I will be surrendering my own personal gazebo and garden for the life of sharing public spaces. I am sure there will be some sadness and nostalgia, but I doubt there will be regret. My last summer of "suburbia" is almost under my belt now. Pretty soon we are off to pay a visit to our prospective new home. I look forward to sharing that story with you soon.