Gorge-ing

About this time every year I defiantly start acting like winter is over, even if all signs point to "nope, not really." This weekend my brother and sister-in-law were visiting from Minnesota, so I had an excuse to make my fantasies a reality. I simply would not allow them to leave without seeing what Oregon has to offer.

So we headed east to the Columbia River Gorge to do a bit of hiking, amid the rain/sleet mix that I tried my best to not acknowledge. (Which P.S., was not in the forecast. Thanks for nothing, Accuweather.) I took them to Multnomah Falls, the second tallest waterfall in North America, no biggie, and then we hiked the Horsetail Falls trail. It's my favorite of the many waterfall hikes in that area, offering a nice sampler of waterfall action - one you can walk behind, the "weeping wall" and a nice view of the Oneonta Gorge from a little footbridge that feels like it's from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Even though my feet were cold and wet and most of my photos include some precipitation blemishes (beauty marks?), I really enjoyed seeing some of my favorite scenery in what is probably a realistic representation of the natural climate. The moss was growing before my very eyes! And at the very least, Brother and Wifey can at least say that they experienced the REAL Oregon. Not what those pansies see when they show up in July. The only thing that would have made it better would have been a Banana Slug sighting. Next time.

Well, how nice to see you!

SXSW Days Tres and Cuatro

Oofta. We woke up on Friday morning and decided to set some boundaries. Take it easy. Know our limits. So naturally we ended up Austin’s legendary Magnolia Café at 4am for nachos and home fries. Sometimes you just have to call an audible.

We started the day at the Rumblefish party at the Tiniest Bar in Texas, catching a set from Portland’s 7 member, 82-instrument band Loch Lomond, followed by Nico Vega from L.A. -- a metal/hybrid/sorta bat-shit crazy but good-sounding girl-fronted act. At this point we decided to throw “Get a Grip Friday” rules out the window. (Which for the record were never firmly established.) We dipped back into the 6th Street mayhem and found some seats under the stars in the Side Bar’s outdoor patio before hopping next door to Beerland to catch the Vivian Girls, girl-punk from Brooklyn.

Then we come full circle. Where it ends and begins, with nachos and home fries. My body hates me. We’re working it out.

Saturday was truly one to scratch into the “really great day” bedpost. Hometapes put on a all-day event called “Friend Island,” with free pancakes, (that squirt out of a can! Mine was shaped like a snail.) Deschutes beer on tap and bands and bands and bands. My favorites were Peter Broderick, (member of Horse Feathers and Efterklang) an unplugged acoustic front porch-esque set from Raleigh’s Megafaun, and some face-melting electronic business from old pals and Madison residents All Tiny Creatures. And let’s not forget more goodness from those Danes, and some bonus Danes whose band was called “Murder.” Which was surprising, since they were three dudes sitting with their legs crossed singing melancholy folk music. Maybe they got some bad thesaurus information.

I apologize for the “Then we did this, and then I ate this, and then some guy said this” nature of these SXSW posts. It hurts me more than it hurts you, I promise. The amount of notable activities is a bit overwhelming. I’m not even telling you everything. Like how the ATM charged me a $6 finance charge, or about the holes that my “cute girl shoes” chiseled into the back of my heels. Anyway, I appreciate you sticking with me. These bands deserve the attention of my gargantuan readership. (Musicians, thank me later. In all of your albums.)

SXSW Day Dos

Thursday was epic. We spent 12 hours downtown, and although it was packed with more musical merriment than one could imagine, by the end I feared my head might explode.

First we dropped into the Flamingo Cantina and caught Slaraffenland's set - a crew of Danes on Portland's Hometapes label, which also includes Eau Claire buddies Megafaun, (featured in the above photo) who we saw next. Fantastic show from these bearded gentlemen, who now reside in North Carolina. About 10 minutes after this show, we caught word that Portland darling Laura Gibson was playing a couple blocks away at the Side Bar. We walked in just as she was starting, and it was a treat. I could have done without the really loud, distracting drunk dudes guffawing and saying loud manly things in the background, but what do you do.

THEN, we biked across the Colorado River, which for some reason Texans refer to as "Lady Bird Lake." Whatever you say, Texas. We went to Auditorium Shores and saw Elvis Perkins, The Cold War Kids, and another Stumptown friend, M. Ward, who surprised me with a rollicking rock and roll show, the perfect ying to the yang of his recent, more subdued show at the Aladdin Theater. My friend Nathan Jr. is playing in his band, so it was great to see him get some Jumbotron time. Shredding, nonetheless.

We biked back downtown but the mayhem at this point was overwhelming, and we soon climbed back on our two-wheelers and went back home to recharge. SXSW, I vow to keep up with you.

(Laura Gibson)

(M. Ward and Nathan Jr. Jumbotron action)

SXSW Day Uno

Eeee! Arrived in Austin late yesterday afternoon, and after a quick clean up session to help me forget that a little guy barfed all over the back of my seat on flight 1, and that another kind soul decided to sneeze directly on me during flight 2, my friend Katie and I took to the streets. I enjoyed my first Lone Star beer on the back patio of Mug Shots bar, while listening to some really bad hardcore music in the adjacent lot. Then we went to the Stimulus Show at the Paradise Cafe and caught the tail end of Tigercity, followed by Morning Benders and Harlem Shakes. Good times. Other highlights include the "pulled pork taco" that I purchased, which turned out to be a good pound of pork in a tortilla, with NOTHING else, not even sauce mind you, and the bartender that threw a piece of ice at me. I did not follow-up.

Great day planned for today! Bikes, breakfast tacos, bats, beers and hopefully some old buddies. And in case you're wondering, yes, all that alliteration was on purpose.

There's no basement in the Alamo...

Weee!!! Stay tuned for some SXSW reportage!

It's patio season!

Sigh. False alarm.

Redemption, via Scones!

The magic is back.

Funny how one small culinary victory can blow the wind right back into your sails. But I really have to hand it to myself - these little buggers are delicious.

I based my biscuits off of a recipe from Bon Appetit that I found on Epicurious, but I am a deviant. And I daresay that my variations substantially upped the quality of the final result.

Cranberry Orange Pecan Scones

3 cups all purpose flour
1/3 cup sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon grated orange peel
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
3/4 cup dried cranberries
3/4 cup chopped pecans

1 cup chilled half and half

Orange Glaze (just whisk it all together)
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar

1/4 cup orange juice

1/2 t vanilla

Preheat oven to 375. Sift together all the dry ingredients, add orange peel. Add chunks o' butter and blend with your fingers until a coarse meal forms. Add cranberries and pecans. Mix 'er up. Gradually add cream and toss with a fork until you get some doughy clumps.

Turn dough onto floured surface, and knead it until it binds, but not too much. About 5 turns will do it. Form dough into a 1/2-ish inch thick square. Or rectangle. Who are we kidding.

Slice into triangles or get creative. I bought a square cookie cutter, and then just cut those diagonally instead of trying to carve out freestyle wedges. Pop them in the oven for about 15 minutes. But keep your eyes peeled. I am at the mercy of a confused, elderly oven and I'm not sure how 21st century hot boxes behave. Take them out when they're getting brown on top.

I made one mistake. My glaze wasn't thick enough, and was less of a frosting, and more of a varnish. It soaked into my scones more so than coated them. You win some, you lose some. I still ate 13 of them. It made them shiny.

Thank you scones, for giving me back my baking confidence. Now I am off to make a torte, or flan or something that involves wielding a creme brulee torch! Just kidding. I'll be making lots and lot of scones.

Mine.

Huzzah! This biotch scored herself a sewing machine. It's my pleasure to introduce you to the Janome Sewist 525S. And I'm so tickled I'm just going to keep on typing without dwelling on the fact that "Sewist" is an unabashedly made-up word. You're spunky, Janome. Willing to take risks. I like that.

This weekend involved some intense research (I now know the difference between oscillating and rotary hooks!), demonstrations from a couple different sewing machine dealers around town, and I'm not ashamed to admit -- a bit of haggling. Ended up getting a screaming deal on this little princess. It seems Janome is giving their look a face lift -- in a month or so this exact machine will appear more futuristic and sleek. But in the meantime, they're trying to get the ugly stepsister version out of sight, hence knocking a couple hundred dollars off the price tag. But don't worry, 525S, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I will never make you feel less than stunning.

Here's a sampling of the features on my new fabric sleigh:

• 25 stitches including a one-step buttonhole
• Built-in needle threader
• Automatic one-step buttonhole
• Magnetic type horizontal full rotary hook
• Convenient one-hand thread cutter
• Convertible free arm for circular sewing
• Accessory storage
• Foot pressure adjustment
• Quick foot conversion
• Drop feed dog

I'm hoping to find out what most of these phrases mean soon. (I know one thing for sure, they're all about the buttonhole.) I've never wanted to be a member of a club so badly in my life.

What a crock.

I channeled my inner-June Cleaver this week and spent some quality time with my crock pot -- a device that never ceases to amaze me, that for some reason, I rarely use.

Somehow this magical contraption turned a $3 beef round roast into the most amazingly tender cut of meat I've had in ages. Yes, I understand. It's sloooow cooking. In its own juices. But how can a result so amazing, be so easy? And cheap? This particular pot held 4 meals, and probably set me back about $10.

That's it. I've got the answer. The cure for this recession is lots and lots of crock pot action.

Slow Cooked Beef Goodness

beef roast, 2-ish pounds (cheap is ok, remember: crock pot = magic)
Penzey's prime rib rub
Yukon gold potatoes
5 cloves of garlic
3 large carrots
1 large onion
beef broth, enough to cover roast
red wine, 1/2 cup or so
bay leaves
salt and pepper

I started my roast in the morning before I went to work. I rubbed the meat, then tossed it in the pot with the sliced garlic and onion. I whisked about a TB of corn starch into the broth before pouring it over the beef - but that didn't really seem to thicken up the juices - and I was kind of glad it didn't work when it was done. Then I poured in the red wine, tossed in the bay leaves, covered it up, turned it on low and left.

When I got home about 8 hours later, I could smell it before I even unlocked my door. It was heavenly. I hope the aromas tortured my neighbors and turned them green with envy. Anyway, at that point I threw in the potatoes and the carrots, and let them cook for another couple of hours before the salting, peppering and feasting commenced. Ideally, the whole operation would have taken about 8 hours, and the potatoes and carrots would have gone in at about hour 5.

It doesn't really get more comforting than this one-pot wonder. It almost makes me want more winter. Almost.

Meet my hillbilly container garden.

I am going to be THAT old lady. The one with geraniums growing out of a toilet in the front yard.

It's hard to be an urban farmer when all you've got is a 5 x 5 patch of earth outside your studio apartment that you're not even sure is included in your rental agreement.

So naturally, this book "Garden Anywhere" caught my eye. (And this the part where I brag a bit about my job. This book isn't out yet but will be released later this month. Publishers send me pre-publication copies, to impress me enough to promote them. Guess what, it works.)

This past weekend I went scrounging around for my first fleet of containers. I found the tins (soon to be known as the chive tray and the pepper popper) at "the bins," which is a Goodwill outlet warehouse lined with troughs of every random piece of crap you can imagine, priced by the pound. It's quite terrifying, really. Lucky for me, tin is light, so they set me back about $1.75. I found the "chard drawer" at a place called The Rebuilding Center, a really great non-profit that sells salvaged construction and remodeling materials. There is a room full of toilets, which I was instantly drawn to for reasons that now seem obvious. I picked up my sweet dresser remnant for two bucks.

I still have some research to do on soils and sun and growing seasons, and hope to find some more containers. The book even shows you how to grow potatoes in a feed sack. I figure if I'm going to hint at my trailer-park tendencies, I might as well hit the ball out of the park.

A very sad story about cake.

I'd like to take this moment to say that I'm not deliberately throwing wrenches into my projects so I have something funny/pathetic to write about. Although it does seem to soften the blow of culinary failure. I'd also like to point out that in this instance, my failure took many forms, and I contemplated sharing the story as a part of a three-part blog miniseries. But then decided that's not in anyone's best interests.

I've been fantasizing about making this coconut cake since I first spotted it on the cover of the "Southern Cakes" cookbook about a year ago. And what do you know, a friend of mine is having a bowling birthday party today! I imagined the hero I would be when I sauntered into the alley with this glorious creation in tow, and rehearsed my response to what would surely be a flood of praise. "I guess I just inherited the baking gene! *Wink*" And I bought my first cake carrier at Target today, to ensure it's safe delivery. I know what you're thinking: "Just when I thought this couldn't get any more tragic."

Ah, and things started off so well! I made a handsome yellow cake mix from scratch - thick and smooth - which ribboned down from my mixing bowl to perfectly fill my 9" cake pans. I slipped them into my geriatric oven - being careful to take into account its tendency to get about 25 degrees hotter than the knob would indicate - and even moved them from the too-low rack to the too-high rack at half time. After they started to pull away from the pan and spring back from my touch, I took them out, set them on the rack and took photos of how beautiful they looked resting on the cooling rack I also bought today in their honor. Fifteen minutes later I tried to take them out of the pans, and it's then when my error became obvious.

Somehow my temperature calculations did not add up - and what I thought were perfect, golden discs of deliciousness were hiding a lethal secret - big ole craters of un-baked lava-dough in their centers. In retrospect I realize I should have gone with the tried and true toothpick stab test - but all other signs pointed to victory.

After briefly contemplating making the same cake again, I realized that 1: I didn't have time, 2: I didn't have enough ingredients, and 3: screw that. I zipped down to the grocery store and grabbed a cake mix and set out to whip up some cupcakes instead. I refuse to be deceived by cupcakes.

I've decided to not write about how I then tried to salvage a small amount of pride and make the boiled-icing recipe that accompanied the cake and failed to produce that as well. In summary, my egg whites did not fluff. And I don't want them in my frosting anyway. It's cream-based sugar cement from here on out.

I'm about to head out to the party, with my cake carrier full of mini-cakes. Betty Crocker is much better suited for a bowling alley anyway.