I guess I am in a rut. Last weekend, I drove down to Eugene just to attend an afternoon party at Ryan and Jenaya's. Pear cocktails, sparkling wine, more wine, beer, delicious ham, sweet potato fries . . . and some serious cognacs rescued from the evil clutches of Hurricane Katrina. Ryan reports that consumption reached 7.67 drinks per person, which seems a bit excessive, especially since some people were clearly not doing their share. Perhaps the fellow sneaking out the back with a couple of cases of wine skewed the curve?
Actually, this photo and these photos were taken months ago. It was summer, I'm pretty sure. Hmmm, June. Ryan, Jenaya and I visited the Bier Stein (finally!) for dinner and a selection of interesting (not always great) beers. Sandwiches were excellent and, as always with these two, I had a lot of fun. The woman sitting to my right asked me "Do you always take pictures of your food?" as though it was an odd practice, but . . . maybe it is. It does help to remind me of great meals and great evenings, even in Eugene in June.
It's not my photo! My son, Alex, sent this to me and can't track down the original link. So if it's yours, I apologize and would love to give you credit. But it's a baby hedgehog! Soooo cute.
Spiders belong in the park, not in the tub! On a foggy Sunday morning, there are lots of dewy webs with the spiders off somewhere else sleeping until things dry out. Hopefully, the spiders are close by, and not sneaking off to certain people's apartments to lurk until dark. More pictures of fog and sun at Mt Tabor Park are here. There is even a photo of a spider!
Autumn is the best time of year! No more hot days (the window fans are all stashed away for the season), ovens can be used to cook wonderful Fall meals, and the leaves are turning beautiful colors even here in Portland. True, October here is usually more sunny and a bit warmer, but this year is what it is: cool and grey.
Here in Portland, we're adding another light rail line along the path of the original Transit Mall, which opened in 1978. The track will run from Union Station on the north all the way to Portland State University on Fifth and Sixth avenues, where the train will share spaces with buses and cars. Over the past weekend, trains were shut down through central Portland to accommodate construction on this intersection, where the new track had to be cut through the existing track from 1986.
Simple is good. Here's a little snack to nosh on while the gumbo simmers: fresh from Bob & Patty's garden tomato and some Oregon raw milk blue cheese. Mmmmmm. This is a good time of year for food, with summer's bounty still available and the days cool enough to crank up the oven and the stovetop. It isn't quite time to put the grill away for the winter, but things slowly-cooking in cast iron are beginning to call to me. Sausage and chicken gumbo for starters, enhanced by Bob & Patty's bell peppers. Next year, they need to grow some celery!
The chicks are a bit over three weeks old now, and completely transformed. When I first saw them they looked like Easter treats; now they're clearly chickens and the breeds are quite distinct from one another. They also have REALLY BIG FEET. I got to Bob's about 30 minutes after they started their first excursion outdoors and they were really uncertain about the whole idea. They huddled together near the wall at first, peeping like mad, but eventually they began to discover all sorts of things to peck at (mostly looked like dirt to me) and we spotted one snatching a big (maybe too big) bug that landed too close for safety. They have an enormous run to play in, but I imagine it will be a few days before they venture more than a few feet from the coop. More pictures of the chicks here.
I know that Portland has become a serious bicycle city, but I think this commuter is starting a little early. The bike lock is half the size of the bike and it still has training wheels! Oddly enough, it wasn't parked in front of a day care center, although it was right by a MAX station. Maybe he bikes to the station and then rides the train to his job. I dunno.
A young bloodhound, who was towering over scores of other dogs at the Basset Olympics in Lebanon, Oregon a few years back. At the time, my friend Ralphie (50% basset, 50% beagle) was just a pup, used to playing with the Labs in the park. This event was the first time he'd really come eye to eye with dogs his own height. The bloodhound, needless to say, wasn't one of those dogs.
Havana? Miami? All those bright colors means Caribbean fun! Look at the beautiful blue sky. Who can forget those wonderful warm days under the beach umbrella, a big plate of ropa viejo or vaca frita on the table next to an ice-cold mojito. Sweet custardy flan for dessert. Mmmmm. Cuba!
One good friend came up from SoCal to visit this weekend, and two other good friends came up from Eugene to join in the carousing. We found some new favorite places to eat and drink, discovered the demise or downfall of several old favorites. Saturday dinner at Clyde Common, a superb new restaurant in the Ace Hotel (looks like downtown hipster heaven) was definitely on the plus side.
Those of us who have lived in Portland a long time tend to have a poor opinion of the manner in which an old industrial neighborhood has turned into the environ of Yuppies with way too much money. Most of the old buildings in the Pearl District have been torn down and replaced with hideously-expensive condos, which from an architectural standpoint are admittedly very attractive. All the naked display of conspicuous wealth and consumption does creep me out, personally, but no more so than the equally conspicuous hipster persona of the new Mississippi neighborhood.
Michael Jackson died a few days ago, apparently as a result of his Parkinson's Disease. Jackson was one of a rare group of people whose advocacy had a profound impact on the manner in which people came to view beer, for he was one of the first writers to take beer seriously, with the same gravitas given to wine. He helped to define the vast array of beers and breweries, and to awaken drinkers not only to the rising craft movement in the US, but to the obscure, the lost, and the disappearing beerstyles of Europe.
Another rose? Ah, well, it's Portland after all. This was taken in the Rose Test Gardens in Washington Park, and in the original photograph the red is almost blinding. The pity is that it's not possible to blog the aroma of the gardens, because there is something truly wonderful about the smell of thousands of blooming roses. More photos here.
My friend Bob has a smallish farm near Wilsonville with some cattle and a couple of layabout llamas. For years, we've talked about how much we'd love a source of fresh eggs, but there had been some resistance from his wife. Now he's built a beautiful coop and a huge run, incorporating it into his Labs' kennel (no coyotes coming around there!) and yesterday the first batch of babies arrived. Won't be the last bunch, either; Bob's already starting to get a funny look in his eye when he pages through the guide to chickens. Four varieties here, including Barred Rock, Buff Orpington, Araucanas and Leghorns. 
As part of a huge campaign last fall, Budweiser Select was featured on outside advertising on a building here in Portland. Someone did a terrific and professional job of punking the ad, and it sat there for weeks before the ad company noticed and painted over the addition. I kept passing the sign and kicking myself for not having my camera, but I finally got this photo days before the ad was removed. Ironically, the outdoor ad company was responsible for treating me to a very nice business trip in Vancouver, BC a few months later. I thought it would be nice to send them all copies of this photo after I got back.
The beautiful and still-functioning Union Station here in Portland. Up until January 2007, I had a key to the tower because we had some cranky old PCs in a room up there, used to send schedule displays to the bus shelters in Old Town. As much as I enjoyed my visits to the upstairs of the building, with all the oak flooring and beautiful construction, I certainly don't miss those PCs.
Portland is the City of Roses, after all. A lot of tourists (and locals) visit the test gardens in Washington Park, with a spectacular view of the city and Mt Hood, but few of them visit the Peninsula Park rose garden in North Portland. It's a beautiful old park, with a wonderful brick plaza centered around a big pool and fountain. I've been told by flower experts that the gardens are superior to those in Washington Park, although they're admittedly smaller. The park was close to my old house and a natural destination for walks with the dog. In June and July, the roses are always breath-taking.
Antonia Barber and Nicola Bayley have a beautiful picture book called The Mousehole Cat , that was a favorite story of mine to read to my kids when they were young. In the story, a fisherman's black and white cat saves the Cornish fishing village of Mowzel (Mousehole) when their fishing boats are trapped in the harbor by a huge storm. When I had the chance to visit Cornwall this spring, Mousehole was at the top of my list (well, right after the Pirate Inn pub in Penzance, great food and lovely ale). The tide was out, the tiny harbor was completely dry, and at least one crew member wasn't going anywhere. I had found the real Mousehole Cat--the only cat I saw in the village.
I almost didn't want to post this photo, because my brain finally made the connection: Minneapolis, bridge . . . But this is a beautiful bridge across the Mississippi in downtown Minneapolis and it didn't fall and no one was hurt. It's just for pedestrians and bicycles these days, although clearly built in a much earlier time for more prosaic functions. And I thought after a few days, that we should celebrate a beautiful city like Minneapolis and I love the symmetry of the arches and the stonework.
Just a reminder that summer never lasts forever. Some of us really love the snow.
The still room at Bowmore Distillery, on Islay, the southernmost island in the Hebrides. Some of the world's finest malt whiskies pass through these copper vessels before spending years aging in wood. The Bowmore tour may be the most interesting on the island (there are seven other distilleries on Islay) due to the presence of the floor maltings, a tradition that most distilleries have long since abandoned.
The Religion
Tim Willocks
Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 640 pp
My days of writing book reviews are long over, but not my desire to recommend books or to “discover” new authors—which in this case means discovering someone who has been writing fiction for a number of years and who I’ve only just stumbled upon. The Religion is a big fat, incredibly satisfying historical novel set during the Siege of Malta in 1565. It is apparently the first of three novels chronicling the life of Mattias Tannhauser, and the historical period is rich in possibilities.
Tannhauser has returned to the West after spending years as a Janissary in the service of Suleiman the Magnificent and has been dedicating himself to trade and sensuality, both of which conspire to place him inside the beleaguered fortress with “The Religion”, the Knights Hospitaler’s headquarters in Malta, as thousands and thousands of Turkish warriors descend on the island, determined to put an end to the fighting monks, who they view as terrorists.
Willocks has chosen a fascinating period in European history and done an incredible amount of research. This is still a period preceding the rise of nations in the West, with a great struggle between the Church and the wave of Protestantism, the Muslim East and the great array of languages and principalities. Tannhauser is a terrific vehicle for the story, as a man who has lived among the Ottomans and the “Franks”. Willocks reminds me very much of the late Dorothy Dunnett, except, well, far more violent, brutal and explicit, much like Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe only, well, far more violent, brutal and explicit. Willocks surrounds Tannhauser will a host (literally) of other fascinating characters, all of whom felt to me as though they were human and rooted in their time, rather than 21st Century characters transplanted to the 16th.
I am intrigued to see where Willocks takes the trilogy. Unlike so many other “first” novels in a series, Willocks leaves no obvious trails to be dragged out into other stories, and The Religion stands alone very well.
