Portland relocation nation

Last week I hauled three large bags and shipped eight boxes via UPS to my new pad in Portland, Oregon. Here I am, in a lovely apartment downtown, feeling "metropolitan" for the first time in what feels like years. It's briskly cold and gray outside, but I'm kind of in love with the city again.

This is my third (!!) beginning in Portland, the last two being in early 2002 and summer 2003 respectively. Saying that still sounds shocking. What will I do differently this time around?

Well, for starters, I've already made it a point to try to get out as much as possible. I'm determined that the winter isn't going to slow me down, and even though I'm having difficulty convincing some of my friends to come out of hibernation, I'm making an effort to be comfortable with going to movies, shows and meals on my own, not to mention living by myself. There's something to said for being able to enjoy something solo.

I live in an area of Portland that is easily accessible to most anything in Portland proper. My building is straddled by the eastbound and westbound MAX trains, and I can't say enough about the bus system. Many Portland residents would agree that not having to rely on a car is one of the best things about this city, and I must say it does feel truly freeing.

With this freedom to roam comes what feels like an obligation to explore. I'm well overdue for a new Hungry Cupboard-related discussion, and the harriedness of moving and unpacking and shopping for the household basics is leaving me a little drained these days. But I've already ventured to some of the nearby eateries, and I'm just going to call it now: My neighborhood is pretty much awesome.

Right before I got to Portland, I spend a week and a half in sunny Los Angeles. Part of any trip to LA for me involves partaking in many a libation and eating like a monster, and this one was no different. My easy access to excellent pho, banh mi, ramen and tacos in LA has left me simply craving these foods in Portland. It's going to take a few more bus trips to find the goods to satisfy these cravings, but a little hunting around Citysearch, Yelp and Portland food blogs has resulted in a handy (and growing) list of places to try out. Pho Hung, Binh Minh, Pho Oregon and a slew of food carts downtown top the list right now.

My only honest worry and serious doubt is finding a Portland ramen shop worthy of remembrance. I'll venture to Beaverton or Gresham if I have to, but the ramen pickings seem slim... any suggestions appreciated.

The hunt begins!

More than one way to skin a squash

I've always been one to follow instructions. I was a teacher's pet in grade school, and the one time I got caught in the 5th grade for bathroom graffiti, I felt absolutely awful and cried for hours. Naturally, this tendency to stick to the rules extended to a lot of my daily practices, cooking included.

I'm a HUGE fan of cookbooks, and read them the way that pruny beach ladies devour romance novels. It has taken years of practice to veer from recipes and tweak them to my tastes. I found myself improvising more while living in LA, when I didn't feel like trekking through traffic to the grocery store and/or money was tight. I made do with onions vs. leeks, chicken vs. cornish hen, packaged vs. fresh, depending on the recipe of course.

But any good kitchen girl (or boy) improvises every now and then, especially if we're feeling particularly frisky.

Early in my surgery recovery mode last year, I couldn't do much but read books with pictures and big font. A family friend lent me the brilliant Julia and Jacques: Cooking at Home. The legendary Julia Child and Jacques Pepin collaborated on collecting a variety of classic French dishes and techniques, and variations on those techniques. The book is set up to read like three books: the left side of each page is Julia's opinion, the right side is Jacques', and in the center are the recipes themselves. They each have their own "best" ways of doing things, and take light-hearted jabs at each other's techniques. It was interesting to realize that even these two culinary powerhouses don't agree on a lot of things. There really is no single right or wrong way to roast a chicken or season mashed potatoes or bake a gateau or construct a tart.

Julia and Jacques ultimately recognize that even they aren't the be-all, end-all authorities on a genre of cooking that they'd seemingly mastered. Talk about eye-opening. I have to remind myself constantly that, like anything, cooking is ultimately subjective. People do things or like things because it's what they know, it's what they've done for years, it's how they grew up, it's just their taste. I think Olive Garden is putrid, but it's a favorite restaurant for so many others. I avoid margarine like the plague, but it's all that some people know.

I find that keeping subjectivity in mind is really freeing; it's like giving myself permission to play. Something as simple as a butternut squash soup becomes a playground for color and palate. The coriander and nutmeg gave it a gentle kick, but I was looking for something to complete it. When I opened the cupboard to start sniffing around, a bottle of white truffle oil that my mom brought back from Seattle was staring back at me. Just a drizzle of the oil, and it was the kind of soup that made me wanna say, "got-damn!" It's the perfect savory winter treat and travels well, Thermos-style.

To accompany this, I made a sandwich of roasted pork tenderloin, Jarlsberg, mixed greens, sliced pear and tomatoes from the garden on sourdough; and roasted okra (a brilliant recipe from the Gourmet Cookbook). It was a good day. It's November and the tomato plant is still growing like crazy. It's been a weird year for produce, and I think we have global warming to thank for that.

A note: Pureed soups are an excellent arena in which to experiment; this is the perfect example of "fool-proof", as it's ultimately a mix of whatever you think tastes great in whatever consistency you find appealing. It's all about you.

Here's my take:



Butternut Squash Soup with White Truffle Oil
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
2 medium onions, chopped
3 carrots, peeled and chopped
1 leek, sliced (white part only)
1 butternut squash, peeled and cut into small chunks
3-4 cups chicken broth (or water), more if needed
1 teaspoon coriander
salt & white pepper to taste
a few gratings of nutmeg
fresh parsley
1-2 teaspoons of white truffle oil to taste

Heat olive oil and butter in a big pot over medium-low heat. Add onions, carrots and leek and cook until onions are soft and golden brown, about 8-10 minutes. Stir in butternut squash and coriander, cooking for another minute or two. Pour in chicken broth or water, enough to cover the squash. Bring to a boil, cover the pot, turn the heat to low and simmer until the squash and carrots are nice and tender, about 20 minutes.

Take the pot off the heat and puree the soup, either in batches in a conventional blender, or (carefully) with a hand blender. It would be wise to wear an apron at this point so as not to get soup on your brand new T-shirt. Add more liquid if you think the soup is too thick.

Season with salt and white pepper, grate in a bit of fresh nutmeg and stir. Add truffle oil by the quarter-teaspoon to taste, stirring and tasting after each addition. Good truffle oil is extremely concentrated and it takes very little to flavor the entire pot. Serve each bowl with a generous pinch of chopped parsley.

Another note: If you don't have truffle oil handy, I imagine that one could add a handful of crimini mushrooms to the veggie saute. Alternately, the more savory and pungent shiitake might be worth a whirl.

Halloween treats

This was my mom's very first pumpkin carving experience. It was pretty adorable.


The happy one is mom's.

Every October between the 5th and 10th grades, my friend Maile and I would carve pumpkins. Her mom would take us to a patch on a Saturday, pick out a pumpkin, go back to her apartment and set up shop. Newspaper on the kitchen table and a couple of blunt knives... We got to be pretty good at carving teeth and circles by year four. I've since lost touch with my friend, and haven't carved a pumpkin since, yet have had the hankering to many times.

In the past month, the carving itch was especially prevalent. I decided we needed to make up for our pathetic Halloween performance from last year: One year ago today, we were moving into our new house, moving trucks in the driveway, big dudes lugging furniture in the front door and everything. Before I remembered to turn off the light over the front door, the doorbell rang and two adorable kids simultaneously opened their bags and chimed, "Trick or treat!" Trick, I guess... our kitchen was completely empty and the only meal I'd eaten in the house was a salad from Chick-Fil-A (which I ate sitting on the floor as we had no furniture yet). I had no choice but to apologize profusely and tried to make up for it by telling them they were cute. I had visions of the kids crying to their parents and the parents passing on the word that we suck.

This year I'm determined to make our house a Halloween hot spot. And by that I mean people won't be pointing at our house and telling their neighbors, "They're mean to children." Mom and I went pumpkin shopping at a patch on a church yard this past Sunday, and bought two big pumpkins, one medium pumpkin, three tiny pumpkins and a funny squash that looks like something that gnomes would choose to live in. I picked one of the big ones for me to carve and the medium one for my mom.

Our Halloween treats? We saved the pumpkin seeds and roasted them in a little butter and salt. 300F in the oven for about 45 minutes did the trick. Mmmmmm...

The Northwest calling

With a little encouragement from loved ones, I feel I'm due for something new on the Ingrid food front. I've spent the last week and a half in the sunny Pacific Northwest: Portland for an amazing wedding and a migration to Seattle last night to spend QT with the siblings. In the year and a half since I was last in Portland and the two years since my last Seattle jaunt, the Northwest seems to have exploded with some incredible joints that are both deliberate and simple, creative and adorable and a spankin' good time. The "fashion-forward" versions of cuisine, if I may.

One of the several notable visits in Portland was Pok Pok on SE Division, a version of authentic Northern Thai street food served both sit-down style and a to-go shack. The dining room is situated in creator/owner Andy Ricker's actual residence, and the to-go shack in his driveway. Whatever the situation, the food is got-damned good. The choices are many and quality, and the menu is spattered with bits and pieces of info about Thai cuisine history, Pok Pok's origins, and helpful how-tos for Thai dining habits.

The dishes vary in size from tapas-serving to big plates of succulent meat. Our server was quite insistent, almost too much so, on making our party of eight ladies eat family-style, which ended up being more like sharing in groups of four or so, as some were vegetarians, some had food allergies, and some just preferred otherwise.

Regardless, I didn't try one dish that I wasn't impressed by. More than anything, every bite pretty much erupted (kindly) in my mouth. My favorite was the Yam Plaa Deuk Fuu, a green papaya salad with catfish gaufrette, which was like fresh, citrusy this-and-that topped with a perfectly-fried catfish cake, with the flaky integrity of the fish still intact. The Cha Ca La Vong (marinated catfish on vermicelli) wasn't far behind. The meal bore for me a new appreciation for Thai cuisine, covering all the bases of one of my favorite kinds of meals: undone, non-fussy yet explosive street food.

More than anything, this trip has reminded me that eatin' good remains a high priority. And I could eat coconut rice all day long.