Curious and Hungry

Part of the fun of moving to a new city is unearthing its treasures and for me there's no better way to find my bearings than with my belly. The last few years, my love of good eats has led me to banal trolls of the "international" aisles in Missoula, to digging up steamers near Point Judith, to lunar landscapes in search of morels, to chatting up the Portuguese fellow selling fish out his truck; all over map I've been, thanks to a hungry belly and thoughts of I wonder...

Moving to Portland has been no different and I've been basking in the accessible Asian provisions namely from a gem of a grocery store/mall called Fubonn. Typical by Californian standards, Fubonn is large supermarket flanked by several small specialty shops catering to the Asian community. Need a cell phone? Tailored chi pao? 24 karat gold bracelet for your nephew's new son? Huge marble dragon? No problem, Fubonn 'N Friends gotcha covered.

After shopping at Fubonn's on Sunday I came home armed with banh mi makings. Banh mi (pronounced BUN-me) is the classic Vietnamese sandwich born of French colonization. There are infinite takes on banh mi, but the standard is typically composed of a lightly toasted baguette, a thin layer of sliced meat, a pile of sweet and tangy carrot/daikon pickles, a few sprigs of cilantro, sliced chilies, and a light shmear of pate. Fusion food never taste so good and here's how you do it:

Homemade Banh Mi
a hoagie sized baguette preferably with a thin crisp crust
thinly sliced deli meat (headcheese & cha lua are traditional, use what you have)
pickled carrots/daikon *see recipe below this can also be purchased
a few sprigs of cilantro
chilies, sliced
pate If you can't find the Vietnamese version use the French variety found in the deli case
mayonnaise
Sriracha hot sauce

Cut the baguette in half lengthwise and very lightly toast. Spread a light layer of pate to one half of the bread and if you like, mayo on the other. Add a thin layer of meat. Top with a generous pile of carrots/daikon, cilantro, and chilies. Eat.

Do Chua, Carrots & Daikon Pickles
1 large carrot, cut into matchsticks
an equal amount of daikon, cut into matchsticks
2 T. sugar
1/3 C. rice vinegar
1/2 t. salt

Place veggies in a non-reactive bowl. In a separate bowl mix remaining ingredients until sugar and salt are dissolved, pour over veggies. Marinate for at least one hour before serving or store in a glass container for up to 4 weeks.

This Week's Find

The arrival of beautiful spring weather marks the beginning of one my favorite things: yard sales. Last Saturday Edo and I made our first tour 'round our neighbors, marking the beginning of what will become henceforth a weekend ritual. We love scanning for poorly written signs, rooting through piles of castoffs, observing how folks arrange their wares, but mostly relish the satisfaction of scoring a deal. The season has just begun and we only made a few stops but I did manage to find this:

Meet my new barbeque cohort, Mr. Chimney Charcoal Starter. The fellow who sold it to me asked if I knew what it was, my reply was I knew exactly what it was, as I've wanted one for ages. In fact I came close to buying one last summer, but put it down with the very DIY/cheap idea that I'd make one myself. Ha!

Let me explain why I covet. For me, one of the more bothersome aspects of barbecuing is getting the coals going. I'm not a fan of lighter fluid, so that leaves me searching for scraps of cardboard or any minor fuel to get my coals going after the newspaper's gone out. Inevitably and pathetically, I'm left to blowing/fanning my few embers with the hope their red glow will contagiously infect their cold charcoal neighbors. Thankfully, those days are officially over. I have a new friend. Let me show you how he works.

All you need are a couple sheets of newspaper, a chimney, charcoal, and a lighter. Begin by scrunching up the newspaper into a doughnut and stuff it into the bottom making sure to leave a hole in the middle for good air flow.

Next turn the starter upright and fill with charcoal. I like to use hardwood charcoal but briquettes work just as well, they'll just take a few minutes little longer to ember. Place the chimney at bottom of your grill and light the newspaper from the holes at the bottom.

Smoke will begin to billow out the top indicating that the newspaper is lit. Now go get yourself something to drink. Return 5 minutes later to this:

Dump your gorgeously cheeried embers into your grill and cook your steak. Get your drink, snip some garden grown chives...

Eat.

Before DIY There Were Grandpas

Last week at work I found a stack of cheap National Guard mouse pads in box stuck with a hastily written Post-it note, free. Free a benign four-lettered word that has coaxed me on numerous occasions to drag all sorts of oddities home. Lots of broken things, almost great things, old things, things that were evidence of a hasty retreat, things/artifacts of a life gone, things that were replaced—I bring them home like strays. I find a lot of satisfaction in rehabilitating/repurposing inanimate things. Strange? Perhaps. Here's what I made:

Separated the civilian soldiers from the foam bottom and cut out a bull template. Affixed the cut-out bull to a cardboard block.



Cut out and carved "TACOS" from a foam meat tray (the kind your chicken breasts come in) and hot glued them to a cardboard block.

Rolled ink onto the blocks and printed invitations on scraped manilla folders.

My scavenging compulsion makes me think of my grandpas. Two fellows born of another generation where everyday engineers were common and people made things out of necessity rather than novelty. My Pop's pop, Yea-yea as we called him was a wonder. His house was littered with the fruits of his practical repurposing. A 5-gallon oil tin cut at an acute angle, attached to a sanded stick, Voila a dustpan. Frayed electrical wire? No problem. Patch the area with a sliced bit of rubber tubing and hold in place with tightly wound string. He apparently had no use for electrical tape. My Mum's pop, was equally resourceful. A man with a racing mind and active hands he was always hatching new projects. Varied projects included sewing custom tailored sofa slip-covers, tweaking recipes for homemade noodles, and constructing a deck. A man nearing eightly, helped to design and construct a split-level deck wielding a circular saw as if it were an extension of his arm. The belief was that it was better to build it yourself and cheaper. Frugality was central to my grandpas' philosophies. Labor was free. Material never wasted. Scraps and bits were squirreled away saved like potential pagent queens waiting to be crowned favorable for re/purpose. I like to think that my grandpoppas' resourceful philiosphies live on in my curious peeks and that they''d approve of my mouse pad rescue; or at least have a good laugh.