"i got memory-burned by a doughnut"

aaron and i spent last weekend in portland, oregon. in six years living in seattle, i've never made the short commute south. how pathetic, i've been missing out. portland is great. it is filled with ever unfolding mysteries, more than should be possible in a gridded city of its size. but my, it is a treasure!

i think portland is the type of city where you could potentially be very disappointed if you don't get around. the downtown is beautiful architecturally and the buildings lend the city a lot of visual interest. the surfaces and materials are varied, the facades different, the colors pronounced, and the architectural details--moldings, windows, bays, build-outs--keep your eye darting and dashing to see everything possible. but, if you stay close to downtown you may face the unfortunate fate of never really having a chance to see what I believe is particularly special about portland--its neighborhoods.

I love neighborhoods and the variety they offer and portland has plenty of them. people in this city must be busy all of the time. i had the pleasure of seeing two different business districts in the hawthorne district. i sampled biscuits at pine state biscuits and then took a long tour of the Powell's Books dedicated to my favorite of the published medium--cookbooks! On our way over to the original Powell's Books, aaron stopped at the impressive burnside skate park built by some renegade skaters underneath the burnside bridge. the spot was the perfect place to observe an awesome creative community that has sprouted from their common love for skateboarding. afterward, i had the pleasure of wandering and winding through powell's books, which really is a city of books, and finding absolutely nothing to buy except an ice tea. for some reason, powell's just really overwhelmed me. A hop, skip, and a jump from their door was a venture through the Pearl District.

The pearl district was one of my favorite neighborhoods. The neighborhoods is under vast redevelopment. And when I say redevelopment I feel like adaptive re-use is a better description. their are so many industrial buildings that are being transformed into awesome commercial and residential spaces. And their are tons of really awesome parks interspersed that really lend a sense of intimacy to a neighborhood that could be very intimidating for pedestrians or residents. the sidewalks and street-scapes made me want to continue walking rather than run the other way. plus this entire space is connected with lightrail. it was mighty impressive. i hope that seattle's south lake union does borrow this model and bring its better points to the area.

i ate a lot of really delicious food including the very infamous bacon maple bar at voodoo donuts and mind-blowing chicken wings at pok pok. who knew chicken wings marinated in fish sauce, tamarind and palm sugar would result in the most deliciously caramelized poultry i've ever consumed in my life. After a long day of walking and an extended evening of drinking our hosts dan and vanessa brought us to a neighborhood a short walk away from their apartment. what they produced was a street that made my entire trip.

When I got to Mississippi Street the first thing I saw was a trailer selling waffle sandwiches. This neighborhood also boasts portland's only free porch. if anyone knows me they understand that porches and sandwiches are two of my reasons for being, so i knew that around the corner lie a treat. Mississippi Street is half houses and half commercial store front. Everything we walked past was charming, interesting, and a true part of the neighborhood's fabric. Sidewalk restaurants and coffee shops, a brewery, and adorable boutiques. I could have spent an entire day there photographing the contrasts between each building's store front. But i couldn't, because we were on a short schedule. Vanessa brought me to her favorite store, Flutter, and after a brief look through the beautiful compendium of vintagey estate sale-esque goods, and the purchase of a bird cage music box, we ran back across the street to join the boys for breakfast at Gravy. After a stroll through the Japanese Garden, aaron and i said good bye to our generous hosts and headed home.

I wish i would have had more time. But something about wandering through this city and seeing so many new things I got very sad about the state of my passport and the absent checks on my list of american cities visited. i realized just how much i love observing my surroundings, i want to see more. not just of portland, but elsewhere, too! ideas?

things

this weekend is seriously bi-polar.  yesterday was the most beautiful day i've seen in six months.  the temperature, the smell, the way the sun shined on my shoulders, goodness, it was so perfect.  and today, rain.  seriously, seattle, again, don't you get tired of this?

despite the weather's decision to muck-it-up, i've had a pretty fulfilling string of days.  friday after work i spent some quality time with the co-workers following a long week and to properly punctuate the evening aaron and i spent the remainder of the evening with his friends mike and eleanora.  we shared delightful conversation, many bottles of wine, delicious food, and songs around a table fit for four.  honestly one of the more memorable evenings i've had in quite a while.  

saturday i went with megan to david's bridal for a bridesmaid gown fitting.  david's bridal is a funny little franchise and it does funny little things to people who are normally of a joyful and positive demeanor.  following the fitting, we decided on brunch, i'm glad i recommended megan take the mlk exit off of i-5 north because what we discovered was an entire part of seattle we didn't even know existed.  following the lightrail path all the way to alaska junction where we turned right on rainier for a brunch of delicious herbed eggs and perfect cream biscuits at Geraldine's Counter.  If you're the brunch type, you'd be a fool not to try this place out.  it is perfection, complete with delightful bright fiesta-ware, sunny orange walls and lots of natural light.  Yay for Geraldine's!  

anne and i are in cahoots along with our cameras to launch a new web project to share our visionary perceptions of the world.  we still do not have a theme except that we're not incorporating faces.  so, i placed my order for a new cannon digital slr this morning and cannot wait to get started on the project, it's going to be fantastic.  the address shall be released shortly.  as for this week, i'm going to work incredibly hard on self-motivation during the work day, patient adherence to yoga instruction in the early evenings, and lots of adventurous vegetable cooking after that.  I think i'm in the mood for another lentil soup creation.  either that or some sort of recipe from my most recent gourmet magazine.  also, i'm getting on the grad-school wagon by reaching out to the far reaches of the world for advice.  if you have any please let me know!

i'll take toxic holes for $100, alex

you know, it is weird growing up with a toxic pit (basically) in your back yard. less than a mile away from my parent's front door is the berkley pit (as seen above). at more than a mile wide by a mile wide by a mile deep you get an idea of this problem's scale.

so, um, how do i apply to grad school and make it clear that environmental degradation isn't just a theoretical concept, but something that really affects people and communities? i wish i knew a creative way to express why i want to be a professional with the tools to honor the legacy of america's industrial history and the means to begin the process of mitigating the damage industry has caused to cities and towns, making life better for the people living there.

i'm getting constructive about how i'm going to approach this problem. i'm excited to write about this topic. from a personal standpoint, i have my story to offer. i have a lifetime of references to growing up in a community susceptible to the challenges of boom-bust industrial economies, the bi-yearly cancer scares among my peers, the annual lead testing for children exposed to (simply) dirt, etc. and from a political standpoint, i can explain how good policy has helped to revitalize dying communities, pay for environmental clean-up, create new and interesting jobs, and i can best attempt to explain how best practices can enable economic and community development in the future. oh, dear, so much work. such good work, though.

fifty million tissues

i got the flu last week. and by flu i mean everything that is traditionally associated with it the WORST of all seasonal afflictions. the sustained 102 degree temperature and constant exhaustion and the sore throat and muscle aches. i felt like the poster child for a night-quil advertisement. i'm better now, though. and aaron and i are going to butte on thursday and i couldn't be more pleased. home is my favorite of places and i'm excited for the chance to introduce another into the interestingness that butte has to offer. and to celebrate easter. easter is my most favorite of holidays because i LOVE my family's traditional egg hunt. yay!!

deliciousness

I have been spending a lot of quality time in my kitchen over the course of the last few weeks. For a long while I had an arsenal of about four or five totally dependable recipes that could hold their own in any situation. They incorporated the techniques and talents my mom bestowed upon me in her own kitchen. I got very good at chicken enchiladas, spinachy, savory lasagna, split pea soup with ham and swiss and jalapeno and bacon macaroni and cheese, just to name a few. But over the course of the last year I have become unreasonably obsessed with food. My favorite television station is food network, my favorite cable television show is top chef and my favorite online blogs update food related posts twice weekly.

The most fantastic thing about reading food related articles daily is the inspiration I have gathered and brought to my own kitchen. Instead of sticking with my mom’s recipes I feel better equipped to take some risks in the kitchen and experiment with new foods and new ingredients. I think my happiest moment was when I customized Ellen’s enchiladas by adding cumin roasted butternut squash and sautéed spinach. Combining those two new ingredients with feta under a blanket of rich red sauce I realized the potential of my food focus. Since then I have incorporated Arborio rice into my monthly repertoire, making a delicious oyster and cremini mushroom risotto with fresh thyme and parmesan. I have also enjoyed pan fried chicken breasts with a garlicky cannelloni bean mash, and the incarnation of a delicious honey balsamic vinaigrette to dress spicy greens.

All of these food discoveries in my kitchen have inspired me to keep better track of the things I cook and the methods I use to prepare them. I’m going to gather all of this information in a very charming little moleskin notebook for eventual incorporation a) gift baskets or b) the cookbook of my dreams (and, of course, submissions from others are always welcome).

Honey Balsamic Vinaigrette

2 T. Fresh from the comb honey (by fresh i mean relatively recently purchased at trader joes)
2 T. Balsamic Vinegar
3-4 T. Good Olive Oil (I "borrow" the olive oil my roommate brought back from Italy)
1/2 t. oregano

Whisk the vinegar and honey together until the honey incorporates itself into the vinegar, it should taste sweet. Add the oregano, crushing and releasing its flavors into the mixture. Slowly whisk the olive oil into the vinegar and honey mixture emulsifying the oil as you whisk. Voila! Serve over mixed leafy greens with walnuts with ackmak crackers and chevre on the side.

koolhaus and really bad window design

For the most part, I love the environment that surrounds me. That is why I started this blog. I decided I needed a place where I could be more expressive about the topic of place. I wanted to give myself a venue to discuss my surroundings and maybe learn a thing or two in the process. I realize I have learned less about my neighborhood than I anticipated and that I am more inspired by the people who surround me than the buildings I walk past.

The more that I think about it, I guess my love of physical place has never been about my adoration for the beauty of cornices and wainscotings or mullions and muttons or even the efficiency and effectiveness of architectural design. My interest always lies primarily in how architecture and interiors reflect the desires of the people who experience them. I am intrigued by why certain classes of people reside in certain types of houses—mostly the working class and their very charming worker cottages—and what this says about them and their values. I am enchanted by decrepit old buildings and the stories they tell, like the 100 year-old mai wah noodle parlor in Butte. In the kitchen of this noodle parlor, in front of the wok stations, are sunken divots of worn concrete where cooks once stood and tirelessly cooked noodle dishes. I like that place is not just about environment, but about people. I think the personal connection is sometimes missing in today’s discourse of architecture and physical place.

Design and architecture is about how people experience them. If we didn’t encounter and participate in our physical surroundings then we may fail to recognize the necessity of their presence in our daily lives. Sometimes I wonder if Rem Koolhaus designed the Seattle Public Library to illustrate the importance of architecture in civic buildings rather than just an ineffective deconstructionist building or developed his ridiculous “the generic city” theory to make people realize the importance of variety in city design rather than making claims that people are not loyal to place anymore. At least I hope that’s the case, otherwise…

What I’m saying here is that I realize structures are important, but I am more concerned about how they affect the people in and around them. I think that’s what I want to communicate about here as time goes on.

a man's boots

My grandfather is 92 years old and wears cowboy boots every day. His boots always come to mind when I think of him. He is a man that I always enjoy hearing talk about his life. His stories are about hard-work and the joy and pain that come with it. He has lived through the advent of the telephone, the great influenza epidemic of 1918 that killed his mother and many other Americans, the Great Depression, and several year-long labor strikes. But his stories are always up-beat with mentions of community dances and parties so people could share food during what he calls the hard times, he talks fondly of meeting my grandmother when, on a break from cattle herding, he rode up to her at a well and she offered him water, honing his talent as a miner, and meeting people that have become life long friends in those moments. I relish these stories and the insights he has because of these experiences. Believe me, I could talk for days about all of the collected memories we share, but now that the time I spend with him is less frequent I call upon my memory to remind me of them. When I do so, one image rushes to the forefront of my mind. That image is his boots.

As far as I know, his boots have made the rounds with him for about the last quarter century of his life—all the years of my life or maybe longer. The steps he takes in those shoes are the steps that are part of who I am. When I was little I watched him pull galoshes over them to shovel snow during the harsh Butte winters, I watched him leave paths of smushed grass when he watered the summer-length lawn, I watched him give my brother and sister “horsy rides” on the end of his leg when they were babies, I watched him take long morning walks in those after breakfast, and smash pop can’s under his feet on the concrete in the garage. I gather comfort from knowing that there is something as simple as a pair of shoes that make my grandfather make sense to me.

I like that the things I love so much today are pieces of my grandparent’s and parents lives before I knew them. My grandmothers’ earrings, pins, and plates, my grandfathers’ jeans, boots, and hats, my mother’s books, camera, and photos, and my father’s records, belt buckles, and t-shirts; I like that when I hold these things or wear these things I come to know them in a different way. I like how I get a better sense of them as an individual. I like that these things were loved by them and have become important to me and also hold the potential to become something special to someone else in the future. For me, the handing down of objects is part of the intergenerational fabric of my life, it keeps their history (and somewhat my own) current and alive. I like that. I like that history isn’t just the past because for me it as present as the boots on my grandfather’s feet.