Things that are only poigniant if you're on your bike: Your shoes. Filled with water.

Touche', Mother Nature. You got me good. Real good.

Pasty Magnificence.

In case you don't know, you're looking at a pasty. And you see that bulging pocket? Well, that's filled with beef. It was braised in port, along with some potatoes, carrots, onions and rutabagas, then inserted into a flaky, buttery crust. It may sound like a fancy Hot Pocket, but I assure you, its excellence is beyond compare. And that pile of ruffage? IT'S ALL PICKLED. Even the apples. This meal blew my doors off.

Pasties are a Midwestern thing, associated most closely with the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The 'ole U-P, if you will. When picking out a place to celebrate my birthday this week, my eyes lit up when I read about this new-ish establishment in North Portland called "Saraveza: Bottle Shop and Pasty Tavern." Bingo. And as if the pasties weren't enticing enough, they also sell Leinenkugel's, a Wisconsin microbrew that holds a dear place in my heart.

I could gush about Saraveza all day. They serve over 200 beers! There was a Belgian tasting going on while we were there! They offer cheese and summer sausage platters! They make their own chex mix! Before I knew what was happening the energy in the space propelled me to try to sing, then subsequently attempt to explain, the Turdy Point Buck song.

Or maybe the Leinie's was to blame. Either way, you know where to find me from now on.

Hillbilly Garden Update

I've been plugging away at my little container garden project, and finally got some quality time with actual dirt the other day. Lettuce medley, welcome to your drawer.

My inspiration has been Alys Fowler's Garden Anywhere, a gorgeous book with some fantastic ideas for mini-plots. I took her lead and applied a few coats of Dutch oil to the inside of my drawer, to hopefully prevent the wood from rotting. We'll see.

I also planted some taters! I got a bit pot from Home Depot (a venue I enjoy wandering almost as much as discount fabric warehouses) and got some Yukon Gold starters from my buddy, Farmer Marven. Hoping to see some sprouties in another week or two. In the meantime, I've kicked off Operation Chives. Along with giving the stink eye to any would-be lettuce vandals - man or beast. I guarantee that messing with my greens is not in your best interests.

How fortuitous!

Look what I found at a garage sale today! $12! It's destiny.

Drumroll please...

My sewing class ended this week, and I'm proud to report that the stunning apron you're gazing upon is my creation. I sewed! What's more impressive, is that I did so without blowing up my new sewing machine. A double-victory.

The garment is not perfect. Her stitches meander, and the pocket might be unintentionally askew. But I couldn't be more thrilled to claim her as my handiwork. Considering how most of my new endeavors pan out, this smock is a masterpiece.

And oh boy, are my goals lofty now. Yesterday I went to Fabric Depot, which is the biggest fabric store in the country. And it just happens to be about five miles from my home. (It's like it was written in the stars!) It's amazing. Fabric fondling might be my new favorite pastime. Along with procuring patterns that are well beyond my skill set.

In other seamstress news, check out this adorable little sewing bag that Beardy's mom made for me. Beth does not mess around. She probably threw it together, blindfolded, and stitched it while simultaneously baking some artisan baguettes and weeding the geraniums. The bar is high. I'm hoping that by surrounding myself with so many crafty role models, that at some point, I'm bound to catch up.

Blueberry almond coffee cake, sans streusel. (I know, crazy right?)

I took part in a fantastic Easter brunch today, hosted by some friends celebrating an amazing new home -- which we were more than happy to break in for them. Nothing says brunch like coffee cake, (and Mimosas! But those were already covered) so I took a stab at this blueberry almond concoction I found in a cookbook I love love love, the big Gourmet compilation.

If Ruth Reichl told me to douse myself in vanilla extract and set myself on fire, I would ask "pure, or imitation?" and then find a match. So naturally, I obeyed her orders to substitute a sweet, crunchy almond mixture for the top of this cake, in lieu of the streusel I so adore. I'll admit, I was skeptical. Is it even still considered "coffee cake" if there are no clumps of sugary goodness resting on top? I'm not sure, but whatever it was I created tasted pretty darn good.

Blueberry Almond Coffee Cake

2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. salt
stick o butter, softened
2 eggs
1 1/4 c sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract -or- 1/2 tsp. almond extract
1/2 cup half and half
16 oz blueberries (mine were frozen)
1 egg white
1 cup sliced almonds

Preheat oven to 350, and grease a 2 quart baking dish. (I actually used a glass lasagna pan, which worked, but did cause some bafflement when I realized my cake was done about 20 minutes ahead of schedule.)

Sift together flour, baking powder and salt. Beat butter and sugar at medium speed until pale and fluffy. Beat in eggs, one at a time, then add vanilla. Reduce speed to low, and add flour mixture and cream alternately in batches, until just incorporated. Fold in berries and spoon into the pan, spreading evenly.

Whisk egg white with 3 Tb sugar, then add almonds. Mix er up and spoon over the cake batter. Bake until golden brown, or when a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean. If you listened to Ruth's pan suggestion, that means 50 minutes to an hour.

And now it's time for a little nap, too much Easter champagne. (Or not enough, depending on how you look at it.) I hope you all enjoyed your Sunday, and that your bellies and hearts are as full as mine.

You can stop searching. I've found the perfect lunch salad.

It's finally starting to warm up outside, which means I can trick my body into accepting and being satisfied with food that isn't limited to the categories of potato, cheese, noodle, or potato.

I've always had a hard time making a decent salad. I blame this on my Midwestern hotdish upbringing. I often just toss anything that resembles foliage into a bowl and call it a day, even if the flavors clearly aren't interested in mingling with one another. And even if I get the salad right, I screw up the sauce. While grocery shopping I will stand in the salad dressing aisle, identify the ones that I know that I like, then buy a different one. The wild card. Usually in an effort to find some kind of secret flavor marriage that will blow the minds of everyone I share it with. This rarely works out. And the more I talk about it, the more I feel I should have my behavior analyzed by a professional.

But don't worry, my quest is over.

Perfect. Lunch. Salad.

baby spinach
blue cheese crumblies
apple slices (I like galas or cameos)
pecans (or walnuts. Be crazy!)
red wine and olive oil vinaigrette (Trader Joe's makes a nice one.)

That's it folks. This is the simple creation that will have your taste buds begging for more. I don't have a PhD in Saladology, but I'd say its success lies in a few bold flavors, which complement, but don't overpower each other, covered in the supporting glaze of a dressing that will just allow all these ingredients to be who they were meant to be. Yes, “simple” is my new salad dressing mantra. No matter how much I want to like “Organic Mermaidy Green Garlic,” or whatever the last one was, I'm just not ready.

I’d also like to point out that for you, dear readers, I braved the stigma I’m sure to face by taking a picture of my salad in my workplace break room, where I am still sort of new-ish. “Lunch photographer.” Let’s just add that to the list along with “sweaty bicyclist lady” and “the one who is too often trying to get muffin crumbs out of her keyboard.” Super.

Thank you, Dog Mountain, and may I have another

On Sunday my bearded companion and I headed back to the Columbia River Gorge, only this time the weather had pulled an about-face. Instead of last week's 40's and sleet, it was sunny and 70. Sometimes, you win some.

This conquest: Dog Mountain. To be honest, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. I have a Pacific Northwest hiking book with pages falling out that I study and scribble in every now and again, and this trek has been on the list for awhile. What I failed to comprehend, is what an elevation gain of 2800 feet over 3.5 miles really means.

It was brutal. There was a moderate amount of whining, abundant feelings of inadequacy, and oaths to whip our sorry aces into shape. Finally, we got to the top after taking more mini-breaks than I care to count, and it was amazing. Truly stunning. We were at the top of the gorge, and could see Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Hood (which is impressive when you realize that you've climbed high enough to see it above the walls of the gorge) and at one point, and I'm not joking, we saw an airplane flying down below us. This makes one feel pretty badass.

Unfortunately, I had tricked myself into thinking that once we reached the top, all of the hard work was over. The trip down would be my sweet reward! This was not accurate. I found out soon enough that the trail was so steep that the amount of agility and quadriceps strength needed to prevent one from somersaulting all the way down (which would have been ideal, actually) was far more difficult than trudging up.

I'm more sore today than I remember being in a long time. I am walking like someone took a crowbar to my kneecaps, and I could use some of those stability handrails for help getting off the toilet. Regardless of the pain now and the strings of expletives then, it was a fantastic way to spend what so far has been the nicest day of the year out in these parts. I'm glad I didn't do the math ahead of time.

Things that are only poigniant if you're on your bike: big-ass boats

The title of this post is not entirely accurate. Large sea vessels also seem important when you're viewing them from a smaller boat. Or maybe if you're riding a dolphin next to said boat. I took this photo from neither of those spots -- I was on a bicycle, on a bridge. I decided that must mean something.

Today I got what seems like my 30th flat tire of 2009, and I'm sort of posting this nice moment from last week to soften the blow of what has become a really obnoxious trend. I got to work on a half-empty front tube (which by the way, I replaced 3 days ago), silently fumed, then sat down at my desk and ordered some new tires. You win, mean debris-filled streets of NW Portland. You win.