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No Shame and No Apology

NYTimes Dining Letters Re: Portland Restaurants: Golden Age of Dining and Drinking 9/26/07

Well, you know I have to run off immediately and buy copies at 7-Eleven and Fred Meyers so I can mail off the Dining section to Betty in Florida. I have to. Small and petty though it may be, I need to show her this, even though I can hear her comment from here--"What? It's not like you got paid for that."

And it is so abbreviated, and they left out the "See you at Pok-Pok!" which I thought was friendly and a genuine sentiment. Oh well.

More later, you know it.

Falling Water

Five pm and it's dark, blowing, rainy and cold.

Sorry to state the obvious, but I just needed more time to bid summer good-bye, and I'm not going to get it. There's some leaves stuck to the street, anything yellow glows supernaturally, and everyone is wearing their shoulders in the "up" position, total defense. I begin hearing the sawing of the strings in Vivaldi's Four Seasons, audio shadows, abandoned porches.

The grass looks great, as do the remaining dahlias, chrysanthemums, and the tawny gold hydrangeas. How about some snapping fresh-crop apples and a few caramels? That's much better.

The last two days I have spent in the belly of the bureaucratic beast, three hours one day and almost three the next, remembering a time when people grew or traded for most of their food and material needs, and wondering how to get closer to that myself. By the second day I was almost in a trance from the noise and frustrated hostility of the workers and their customers, and watching so many toddlers running around with circles under their eyes and gray skin. There were five people I saw reading the Jon Krakauer book "Into the Wild" which is a new Sean Penn film also, and the irony of it made me smile. Surreal bureaucracy and eccentric survivalist meet in the Oregon Job Search offices. Unexpectedly my caretaker instinct rose up, and I wanted to sit all those little kids down to a good hot nutritious home-cooked from scratch meal. No nuggets of any kind. There's my Mid-west again...

The change in weather has brought an abrupt end to the "outside on the porch" season, and for the distraction I find such weather to be, and it's all scrub-a-dub-dub indoors. Sewing, posting items on my online site, writing, going to the booth with more stuff, putting on a pot of rice and beans, start some soup. 'Portland Rain' is a scent you can find at 'Escentuals' on Hawthorne and also on NW 23rd, and it has that subtle fresh smell with a hint of spice and wet leaves, not too heavy, and perfect for this early Autumn time of year. What they don't (and can't) manage to capture in the scent's complexity is the occasional wave of thai wok from down the street and the chimeria in my neighbor's back yard, and the wet mulch from the garden. Or whatever else you smell in your part of Portland---pizza, headshop and fried chicken? Bio-diesel, burnt toast and coffee roasting? I'm not going to go into what the waiting room at Job Search smelled like.

House of Vintage Rocks!

Rainy, chilly weekend. October arrived early and started sulking immediately.

*sigh*

I went down to House of Vintage right after it opened to see how my big weekend discount sale was going, and to make the Big Decision---close it or stay open and hang tough.

Number crunching until my teeth hurt, I knew it was bad business to pull out right before the pre-holiday sales ramping started, but I thought about just cashing it out and starting something new, paying the bills and relegating the booth to the summer period.

You know what's next: Get a real job. But I have to say, I spent three hours there, going through each booth, checking out the new vendors, new merchandise at the usual vendors, seeing the shoppers and post-hangover-breakfasters moseying, buying, and marveling at the place, then going to get more coffee then coming back to look some more. And the big TA-DAH moment descended upon my shoulders---I need to stay here. This will continue to pay off more and more and supplement whatever other income I manage to free-lance upon, and be an outlet for me to sell what I make and/or accumulate for re-sale. And it leaves me free enough to do something like a (gulp) job and it upholds a huge slice of my personal values of artsy-crafting, and reduce/reuse/recycle/repurpose/resell. This was a big TA-DAH I'm talking about here.
And I found a $3 oil-cloth bag from Harrods Knightsbridge in perfect condition, perfect waterproof satchel for the next two seasons. So happy.

Dear NYT updated update

Another full disclosure---

I just received a call from the New York Times, Dining section. They want to print my letter, possibly next Wednesday or the Wednesday after.

"It was a bit long," she said diplomatically, "if we edit for style and punctuation--"

"YES! I knew it was a tad long."

"A little, but if you're okay with--"

"Yes, sure, absolutely."

I raced to call my best pal in Denver. "OMG, OMG, OMG!" She's a writer and totally got it. Like when I chatted up Robert Plant, like when she snuggled Sting, we raced to call each other, shrieking like junior high girls. Instantaneous understanding.

Now all I want to do today is write. The genie (or yeti) is out of the bottle (or ice cave). I'll try hard to not be insufferable.

Dear NYT, update

This morning, the story on Portland's Dining and Drinking and cheapness is still the number two most emailed story at the New York Times, after spending all day Wednesday and Thursday being number one.

Maybe because so many people west of New York only subscribe online and are interested in nearby Portland?

Or should we be preparing for the alien take-over?

(I keed, I keed, is joke)

One of my friends told me that I should be looking forward to the rise in wages the New Yorkers would bring, and I told him to calm down and get ready to wear an apron and a name tag. I think we're still friends, but it took me a while to get out of the composter he stuffed me into.

Honestly, all keeding aside, it makes me happy that Portland is seen for how amazing it is, and that we aren't dismissed as some sort of marijuana plantation clearing house. Our historic legacy and unique climate being a magnet is only enhanced by the continuously evolving art, music and literary cultures, and now the food and drink. More than Stumptown Coffee and Voodoo Donuts? Sure, why not get all of it out in the open to be enjoyed, and the local business owners keeping the dollars in the neighborhood?

There might be a blip of culture homesteaders who cash out and migrate here from The City, but we're still too far out here for there to be a huge wave like there was to Southern California, because our weather isn't as seductive, we're still too far from Japan, and even further from Europe than the East Coast. We're liberal, but isolated in the conservative zone. Might as well just go to San Francisco, where prices are more like New York and half of the old college pals are there and looking to sell, skip down to LA all the time, more familiar territory.

Just as truckers hats and flannel were a fad and are now so passe back east, I think the folks on the west coast predictably like having some rougher edges and aren't so easy going that they're all willing to become a servant class to new residents expecting submissive and impeccable service. We don't all need to be famous and we're not all eager to please and live for a big tip and a pat on the head. Have you noticed how many east coast men are over-grooming their eyebrows? What's with that? I don't think that many guys are working at drag clubs at night, I really don't. It's all cool, whatever, but again, a coastal difference. We're still goatee-ing it and no-make-up-ing it out here, because we seem to like to please ourselves first. Very cool with me. That's why I'm here.

Dear New York Times

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/26/Portland-Golden Age of Dining and Drinking

Dear Eric Asimov,

We love that you love our city and our amazing restaurants. It's been curious this past year to see the number of articles in your paper on Portland, and satisfying to read that most of them are favorable, and for the most part accurately describe how great it is to live here. But there is one facet of your glowing article and of the other coverage that I need to bring into sharper focus: Real estate is not "cheap" for those of us who live here and are offering the "regional" level of service in these restaurants, working behind the scenes at these farms, in these kitchens, and are the support staff for these rich and successful recent entrepreneurial imports with the European and East Coast pedigree. As delightful as it may seem to see what an "average" home or commercial property sells for here, I need to remind you that the wage compensation matches the market, and no prep cook in Northeast Portland is making what a prep cook in the East Village is making. It takes a two-income couple to buy one of these "cheap" properties here because each of the two incomes is "regional", just as the New York wage and real estate levels are "regional" to New York. And in making a full disclosure, I moved here from South Florida seven years ago and have yet to be able to afford to buy one of these "cheap" Portland properties on my own. So I encourage you to continue visiting and enjoying your time here without sales tax and with "cheap, regional" wining and dining, but don't follow the traffic pattern of all the Californians who have bought here and commute to Los Angeles and San Francisco Monday through Thursday, and are rapidly changing the flow of life here and pricing out the current residents. Who will work for you? Who will teach your kids in school, pull your shots of espresso, and wash the pots of those amazing restaurants? Will we now be earning New York wages, too? See you at Pok-Pok!

Laura (etc etc)

I just sent this to the editor. The article in this morning's paper is splendid. Photographs and a glowing mention of Pok Pok, but it sent shivers up my spine. My love for this city is fierce, and I don't want to feel forced out because I can't buy a half-million dollar bungalow as a single woman.

Am I over-reacting? Not enough coffee yet this morning?

I don't think so. Linsey and I were both struck by how many reviews and travel pieces have been featured in the Times in the last year or so, almost as if some wise-ass PSU alum went to make fame and fortune in The City and writes these bits as homesick treatment. Or their sister and brother-in-law just relocated here and they visit them just a bit too much because it's all so cheap. Because it's obvious they don't actually work or know someone who works here. Their sib & hub are maybe still living off that real estate killing they made on that 500 sq ft apartment they sold in the East Village.

"I smell bitter here" says the virtual Linsey voice in my head.

Okay, right on target, so what? I want to stay, is that so wrong? And I love New York, read the Times each and every day, continue an affair with the Old City for over 30 years, have all Jack Finney's books in hard cover, New York 1880 is like a bible to me. An old map of lower Manhattan is on the wall in the hall.

Just don't ruin this place, is what I'm thinking. Visit and go home with 5 extra pounds, a tired liver and a stack of receipts. See ya next year. Look what a mess a bunch of youse guys made of Florida---isn't that enough?