Last Breaths of Portland

It's 4:30 pm and I'm queen of the unpacked boxes a moat of shite and I'm hungry. Gallant internet to the rescue; a search of "old school burgers Portland" yielding in a rejoicing chant of "Stanich's, Stanich's!"  20 minutes and a bike ride later.

Sometime you know.  You walk into a place and you just know.  I knew.
"PBR, cheeseburger with a side of fries, please"
Then this:
 
Good Lord.
Hands down, one of the best burgers ever.  No brioche, Kobe-milk-fed-hand-massaged, carmelized nonsense— just one carefully crafted burger.  Toasted top and bottom, even shmear of ballpark mustard and house-made sauce, oozy cheese, lettuce, tomato and onion.  That's it.  So impressed I introduced a friend 2 days later just to have seconds.  He ordered "The Special" an excessive contender topped with an egg, ham, and bacon weighing in at a reasonable $6.  So if you happen to find yourself in the ol' hood:

Stanich's
4915 NE Fremont Street
Portland, OR 97213
(503) 281-2322

View Larger Map

almost

Found this little lump tucked behind my car before a bike ride.

Bagby Hot Springs

A year later Eddy and I are again seeking hot water.  Luckily for us, like Montana, Oregon has its own supply of geothermal goodness.  Welcome to Bagby Hotsprings, a well known soak tucked in the Mt. Hood National Forest a 70-mile drive southeast of Portland.   The hike-in takes you on a 1.5 mile stroll through
loamy greenness,

and svelt trees,

over a couple of bridges,

to this:

a bathhouse.  The main structures houses 5 private rooms and an open deck area with more tubs.  Each tub, in dugout canoe fashion, is carved from a single cedar log fitted with wooden plug to allow water to drain out after each use.  Hot spring water is supplied via an ingeniously simple system of gravity fed troughs stoppered with sticks.

Near the railing in the photo below, you can see the a tub of icey spring water scooped buckets at a time to cool the piping 125-135 degree water. 

Up further on the trail is another bathhouse with just one large tub and deck.

We lucked out and had this beauty all to ourselves.

We earned it.
Our last visit began as a whimsical post-midnight spree with hopes to catch Bagby asleep but we sadly we arrived find it overrun by drunken hillbillies – it sucked. 

So this time 'round we relished the privacy and soaked happily.  Merry Spring!

Belated T-day

Turkey is overrated. I'm sure millions would argue differently but to me it's the poster child for term poultry. Don't get me wrong I love turkey's fowl brethren, duck, pigeony squab, cornish game hens, and the ubiquitous chicken but beside it's iconic presentation turkey just doesn't measure up. So what to do on the day of giving-thanks if tradition doesn't suit?

Go to the beach.
Thanks to an announcement on the radio declaring the lifting of the coastal quarantine for mussel hunting I knew what Eddy and I be doing come Thursday. A night of Internet research revealed hunting spots and videos of shellfish collecting techniques (clamming's next). Printed directions in hand we drove through a rainstorm to the coast to gather our bearded friends. We arrived an hour behind the scheduled low tide suited up and relatively waterproofed. Or so we thought...In the end we were entirely drenched sweaters wet, boots filled with the squish of seawater, triumphant with plastered grins and a bucket of shellfish.

As it turns out collecting these buggers can be treacherous work, negotiating slippery rocks and gambling with mondo-giant waves. At one point we stood collecting behind a boulder when a sneaker wave hit and nearly sucked me out to sea. Luckily our boulder shored me up and I managed to hold onto my mussels. Exhilarating.

We returned home welcoming hot showers and dry clothes later to feast on our quarry and we were thankful.

Sunday Drive: Desperately Seeking Chanterelle

It's wet here, really wet.
But one of the perks of living in perpetual dampness is that it provides the perfect conditions for our favorite fungal friends; mushrooms. Last Sunday we took a drive out to Tillamook State Forest to search for the delicately flavored chanterelle. Both our local Whole Foods and farmer's market confirmed chanterelles were in season, so we read up on them and went a huntin'.

The day started off slowly with gray skies overhead but brightened as we found our first few.

In the end we collected a sizable stash, enough for me to whip up our favorite mushroom pie. The recipe below is an adaptation of one I found years ago in the comprehensive Sundays at the Moosewood cookbook which calls for a sour cream and butter crust but I've substituted my stand-by tart crust recipe with no complaints.

Welcome to Oregon Chanterelle Tart
1 tart pastry recipe see Oh So Good Cherry Tomato Tart recipe or use any savory pie dough

6-8 C. fresh mushrooms Use what you have on hand I usually like to mix it up portabello, crimini, dried morels, white button, chanterelles...
3-4 big shallots, minced
1 T. butter
8 oz. cream cheese
1 t. dried thyme or Herb de Provence
lots of freshly ground black pepper
1/2 t. Kosher salt

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Prepare the crust dough and pat it into a deep tart/pie pan, cool in refrigerator until ready to fill. To prepare the filling, melt butter in a large frying pan on medium heat. Add shallots and saute until translucent. Add herbs, then mushrooms and turning up heat to medium-high. Cook the mushrooms down until most of the moisture is absorbed. Cut the cream cheese into chunks and melt into the mushroom mixture. Season with salt and pepper and allow the mixture to cool 10-15 minutes before filling tart. Spread mushroom mixture into shell place into preheated oven. Bake 25-35 minutes until crust and top are golden. This pie is rich so serve it with a light salad.