Miss Tasty's Cafe

I chop, I dice, I mix until moistened, I whip to soft peaks, I boil, broil, bake and braise, simmer over medium heat, chill over night ... And of course, there's eating. Tasting, nibbling, chomping, savouring ... I'm a licking-the-bowl-clean, sopping-up-the-sauce, juice-running-down-my-fingers food enthusiast ... Yep. I love food.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Penne alla Vodka & my darling husband

I was dragging my ass up the front steps after a horrifically long (hot) day at work, and there sat my husband. Looking sexy, I might add, in his business man attire.

"Hi! You look tired, and beautiful. [ed. note: yes, he really tells me I'm beautiful, even when I'm sweaty and grumpy.] We don't need to worry about dinner, because, gosh, we have these totally random dinner reservations - I don't even know where they came from. We can push them back if you need some time to relax ..."

"Are you kidding?" I said. "Reservations? What? What are you up to? No, let's go now! I'm starving! What is this all about?"

So we hop in the car, and he pulls a card out of the glove box.

"This was hanging around, figured it must be for you."

I open it, and it's the sweetest love note, marking our 13th anniversary - not our wedding anniversary, but the date we celebrated until we got married - the day that we met. Oh - my - goodness. What a guy!

Five minutes later we are pulling up outside of 3 Doors Down - easily one of the most consistent, delicious restaurants in Portland. Not only did he remember an anniversary I forgot, he took the time to get a table reserved at a place he knows I love, and buy a card, and write a touching, funny note in it. I am so lucky.

And I counted myself even luckier to have ordered my favorite thing, the 3 Doors Down specialty - Penne in Vodka Tomato Cream Sauce with Sweet Italian Sausage. Good god, it's amazing. This followed an appetizer of parmesan-prosciutto arancini with roasted red pepper aioli, and a butter bibb salad with bacon and creamy chive dressing, so my inner hedonist could not have been happier.

Thank you, Smooth Melon, for a fantastic evening.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Pok Pok rocks my world

I am so, so lucky to live in SE PDX, a couple blocks from Division. It feels like a quiet neighborhood, yet I can walk to everything I need - grocery stores, hardware stores, libraries, banks, a dry cleaner, Stumptown coffee, taco stands, sandwich shops, hot spot restaurants, thrift stores, an extinct volcano - hell, even a cement sculpture yard, in case I need a bird bath or a Virgin Mary at a moment's notice. Last night, I took an easy evening stroll down to Pok Pok. Perfect, delightful Pok Pok.

It was my third visit, and I already have my favorite menu item - the shredded pork over sticky coconut rice with a green papaya salad. Pork edges crisped just so, the rest meltingly tender, the smoky, salty richness, a scattering of caramelized curls of shallot that add a subtle, tiny crunch to every third bite, the soft sweetness of coconut milk against the toothy rice. Oh my.

They had a ramen special - those familiar slippery noodles in a beautiful, clean, clear broth, spiked with chili oil and scallions, made substantial with perfect bits of chopped rotisserie game hen. Three dollars, people! The list goes on. Plus, the owner is cute, and his concept is brilliant - buy a house property on a bustling, renewed street, convert the garage space to a small kitchen and walk up window, then as the success rolls in, remodel the house. I think he lives there - I think he might open it as an indoor dining space eventually. Whatever - it's genius.

You'll get a perfectly sized portion, for under $7, and the chance to sit at an outdoor table watching the neighbors go by. Why aren't you over there right now? Go!

**This stuff isn't your usual Thai food, with the saucy noodles and such - it's north and northeast Thai food, seems lighter with more grilled meats - see my friend Hungry T's blog entry for more detail.

Monday, May 08, 2006

How do you feel about beans?


Beans seem to live tauntingly on the edge of acceptability. Sneaky, charming little devils, like the kid in class who gets straight As without trying and spends the rest of his time cutting up - the teacher adores him and is exasperated by him but can never bring herself to punish him. People love beans - they're delicious and nutritious. People also have ... issues with beans, attributed, of course, to their sonorous end effects.

I am especially partial to chickpeas - garbanzos, cecci, call them what you will, they are the main ingredient in hummus and go with pretty much any side dish or salad. Chickpea fritters? Oh yes.

This weekend I was in a rush to throw together lunch for some guests - one of whom is allergic to dairy and wheat. (She has that stomach thing - something like "celiac" disease? - where she can't digest certain things ... it's very weird.) So pasta salad was out, anything with cheese was out, I had no meat on hand other than the cold cuts that were already being set out for sandwiches ... but I did, of course, have some cans of beans in the pantry. Everyone has cans of beans in the pantry.

Throw together one can kidney beans, one can black beans, one can chickpeas - rinse very well under cold water. Coat with a liberal amount of good olive oil, splash on some red wine vinegar, some rice vinegar (for the sweetness), generous cumin, generous oregano, chopped cilantro, diced red pepper, chopped scallions, and a few heavy pinches of fleur de sel. Refrigerate, stirring occasionally. Not too shabby! Easy picnic side dish that is devoid of mayonaisse and full of fiber and protein.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

my recipe box is my pill bottle

For various reasons, I've been in some emotional turmoil. No, these are not pregnancy hormones. Rather, they are the effects of having three sharply separated areas of my life: Work, which is the midline - little drama, sort of interesting, good people ... fine. Home, which is wonderful these days, what with these burbly little sensations of baby motion in my belly, a husband who seems totally in love with watching me grow rounder, sunshine pouring in the windows of my still-new, "I can't believe it's mine" house, and really, really cool friends. Then there is The Mom Reality. I never know what to expect from the woman. She's either the warmest, safest, kindest, funniest person I know, or she is TOTALLY CRAZY. We are talking Twilight Zone, people.

So lately, whether I find myself spitting mad and throwing my arms around in the air ... or, alternately, grinning and humming and padding around the house as the Queen of Domestic Bliss, I seem always to wind up thumbing through my recipe box and pulling out cards spotted with cooking oil, lovingly creased, many written in one of my grandmothers' handwriting. This is good comfort and stress release, and it's a good companion to peaceful joy, and it just so happens to feed our faces, too. It's better than valium. It's my mood stabilizer. (It's that, or TV. I love TV. I admit it.)

Spicy Mixed Bean Chili was on the menu this weekend, and it's so easy - toasted cumin seed, sauteed onion and garlic, minced chipotle in adobo, a can each of red kidney beans, pinto beans, and diced tomato (undrained), ancho chili powder, good dried oregano, simmer, serve with mom's cornbread, sour cream and cilantro, and think about the 1970s and how mom used to cook beans in a pressure cooker that shot steam three feet into the air, spitting hot water and howling its whistle ...

Or maybe it's Strawberry Buttermilk Ice Cream (yes, I know the strawberries are still from California at this time of year, but who can resist those shiny, happy red piles tumbling from those green plastic baskets?). Two cups water, two cups sugar, brought to boil and cooled completely, 4 pints pureed strawberry and two cups buttermilk - everything into the ice cream maker for 20 minutes and it's right back to 1982, sitting sticky-handed in the backyard and licking it right off the paddle ...

Or maybe it's Sweet Onion and Feta Risotto, my favorite meal in college, when all I had was one big pan and so many things to procrastinate, the stirring and stirring was just the ticket. Warm chicken stock, spoon cup by cup onto arborio rice as liquid evaporates, stir until creamy, throw in some feta, sauteed onion and chopped parsley before serving. Think about 1994, that crappy apartment, ugly birkinstocks, and eating bowl after bowl to gain the freshman 15 (and an additional sophomore 15) ...

Or maybe it's Gram's Lemon Merigue Pie, adapted with Meyer lemons. Her recipe card, in her loopy script, reminds me to take the "secret step" to make sure the filling turns out just right ... not revealing that here, no way, do you want me disowned?! Pull it from the oven just when the peaked whites turn that lovely amber shade and think about the way Gram still to this day deliciously licks her fingers after she's scraped the last filling from the bowl ...

Tonight - Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookies. Not from the recipe box, but from that same old trustworthy recipe on the chocolate chip bag. Hot cookies, cold milk, and (ahem) some TV should do the trick.