Locally Grown Girl

Whipple Scrumptious

First, there's an awesome quote at the end of the story:

"I remember consulting for a group home, and there was a little girl there I always thought of as an air plant."

I know a couple of air plant-kids myself, but I didn't realize actual professionals would say such things.

Anyway, my new hero is Paul Rudnick. Behold! (the complete NY Times story is here, but I've lifted the two best bits.)

A display of hard-to-find Wonka candy bars reminded him of his all-time favorite book of childhood, Roald Dahl’s “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”“That was my ‘Bell Jar,’ my ‘To the Lighthouse,’ ” he said. “I thought that if it had been real they would just give me the factory — they wouldn’t even bother with a contest and those other kids.”

Anyone who compares Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to To the Lighthouse is my kind of guy. I must admit I was convinced of the same thing--that if Wonka's place had really existed, he would just will the factory to his best customer, which would've been me. I imprinted heavily on some of the candies in that book--Whipple-Scrumptious Fudge-Mallow Delights, the sweet sugar grass, the square candies that look round, the egg that kept dissolving until you had a tiny, pink, sugary bluebird sitting on the tip of your tongue, the entire ship made of boiled sweet--and CatCF was the first book I ever wrote a book report on (December of 2nd grade, for those who might be curious). It led me to learn that 'boiled sweet' is just hard candy, which was disappointing, but "whipple-scrumptious fudge-mallow" is genius. If Roald Dahl was still alive, I would put him to work writing menus.

I would love to chat with Rudnick about his seeming reverse snobbery on the chocolate front. While there are some brands or varieties I prefer to others, I could never say, "oh, I don't like fancy candy."  Now, I love Reese's Cups and Fifth Avenues as much--OK, far more--than the next girl, but the Peanut Five Star Bar is a wonder of the candy universe. And it's $3.80, plus shipping, for a piece of candy just a couple ounces heavier than the 79 cent Reese's Peanut Butter Tree I ate for dinner last night. Could I ever bring myself to categorically reject one or the other? No.

And as I think about it, I'm coming up with a seemingly endless list of fancy (Fran's salted caramels) and cheap (100 grand), of obscure (Cadbury Curly Wurly) and ubiquitous (Milky Way), of gummi (Haribo Roulette) and chocolatey (Claudio Corallo laranja) and crunchy (Butter Rum LifeSavers) and creamy (See's pineapple truffle) and sugary (seafoam) and nutty (See's P-Nut Crunch) and chewy (Flyer Gold Plane No. 8) and chewy + nutty (Peanut Chews) and sour (Sour Patch cherries) and repulsive-yet-beloved (Sparkle Jerry Cherry Tart 'n' Tangy Taffy) and local (Dana Cree's Nutter Butters at Poppy) and...whatever is the opposite of local in this sense (Swedish Fish). And of course, the classic Brown and Haley Mountain bars, which actually had a long-standing ad campaign where people mistook them for little mounds of poo.

The writer and his story's subject visit Dylan's Candy Bar in New York. Rudnick's comment is funny; when I visited a few years back, I remember mainly that I complained--for a long time--about the lack of selection.

Neighbor

Possibly the cutest college fundraising effort I've ever seen is here. Maria's driveway is right around the corner from our driveway, so I plan on ordering myself some fried chicken and sweet potato pie and (hopefully) overpaying because I've heard--a thousand times or so--that college is pricey these days. (Unless you go to Finland, in which case: free! No kidding! Although non-Finnish-speakers might see some tuition in 2010, if they're studying in English and getting a Master's degree in something.)

I looked up Grambling State U online; it's "a historically black four-year institution in Grambling, LA, chartered in 1901." Their marching band is supposed to be one of the best in the country. Ralph Waldo Emerson was its second president.

past and future

The future involves the new not-quite-a-garden-but-certainly-a-yard: Planted a Surefire pie cherry this weekend. Props to Cap'n for digging a preposterously big hole. Props to about two dozen passersby who were so delighted to see a tree get planted that they were driven to chat about it. Seriously, it was like a parade or a pony: kids were pointing and exclaiming, men were ID'ing it as a cherry tree at 20 paces and asking about variety, neighbors were praising its potential for beauty. If you're ever having a totally crappy day, I suggest planting a tree somewhere near a lot of pedestrians.
The future also involves a foolish dream that relates to another tree. I fell in love with the smell and bought a Valencia orange tree. The living room gets tons of sun, so I think it'll be OK in the winter inside--and no heat vents = happy plant environment. There is an almost-ripe orange on it currently, and a fat pile of blossoms.

The past is a how-de-do to Vince's Italian Restaurant, which has existed in Rainier Beach since 1957; I haven't eaten there since 7th grade (although I have been to the Federal Way location). The only difference: when I was 11, I didn't ever notice the giant lounge, which takes up approximately 65% of the total area.
We had potato croquettes with marinara (sauce was really tasty, the potatoes mostly good in a stoner food sort of bland/fried way); Cap'n went with puttanesca, I had lasagna, and Coach had an Italian sausage-n-ravioli thing. The sausage wasn't very appealing--the texture was very smooth, in kind of an Oscar Meyer wienie batter sort of way. I wish the lasagna had more of the tasty red sauce, but it was rich and hot and cheesy and generally nothing to complain about. Cap'n hoovered down every last molecule of his pasta, and as soon as we walked out the door, he said, I WOULD GO BACK THERE ANY TIME, which sort of implies that we could've turned around right then and had second dinner.
Each entree comes with soup or salad. Vince's is the sort of place where the minestrone is mostly Campbell's Vegetable Soup, and the salad is the iceberg with shredded purple cabbage, but the dressing is good. Next time we go, I'll be getting pizza, mostly for comparison's sake.
Vince's is the sort of classically cheesy Italian-American place that barely exists in Seattle. Brick walls, old Sophia Loren movie posters and lots of photos of the founding family, grandparents taking their precious grandbabies out for pizza and milk, a letter from the Mayor by the entrance, those red-and-white patterned vinyl tablecloths.
It being Rainier Beach, the front of house staff is primarily young women of color. I wanted to tip our waitress with a full-ride scholarship to the university of her choice--she was that kind of awesomely bright and charming.
Vince's is two blocks from the Rainier Beach light rail stop, which is right by the fruit shack (not a stand, a shack) where carpool snacks were procured. It's four blocks from my newly rebuilt middle school. I haven't been in to see the new layout, but the outside appears to be a Reno-style palace; my experience of it was a wacky 70s open concept school with a swimming pool where I started each day. Being in the Nerd Herd (more officially: The Horizon Program for Highly Capable Students) was moderate protection from the seriously tough times the 'hood was having, but as I've learned since, most people don't have school friends busted for drugs in the 6th grade. I was approximately 30 before I discovered that is unusual.
[A possibly-entertaining aside: UW students liked to use the Nerd Herd as 'random' samples, my non-nerd-herd friends did not take these same surveys. One social survey involved questions about gangs and drugs. I answered "yes" to being in a gang, because I thought it was like "a gang of friends". I also checked the box that said I took amphetamines, because I mixed up the word "pseudoephedrine" with "amphetamine." Smart kids read the fine print on their allergy meds, but are not necessarily the most reliable source of information.]
At any rate, it's nice to have Vince's back in my life. The cigar smell is strangely comforting.

Columbia City

What a tasty neighborhood I live in. Which is a good thing, because the insane let's-live-in-a-house-we're-gutting seems to get in the way of cooking much. For a while, it was because all the kitchen stuff was packed. Then it was counterspace problems. Now it's the giant hole in the floor, where we took out the chimney. 94 years of soot = four feet.

Anyway. From north to south along Rainier, I've tried:
Pho Bac: pho shouldn't taste strongly of peanut butter.
Thien Phat: Awesomely good tofu bun.
Pho Hoa: no peanut butter. Good, salty pho.
Gert's BBQ: They moved locations to Cap Hill, and you should go. Great sliders and potato salad.
Taco truck: Replaced Gert's BBQ truck. No pork choices, but terrific carne asada tacos.
El Sombrero: Sometimes, you just need a big plate of cheese.
Geraldine's Counter: My favorite French toast in the world. Served all day!
Columbia City Bakery: Love the scones, ginger cookies and lemon bars. Some problems with consistent product, though.
Island Soul: Great happy hour fried snacks, not so crazy about the rest of the menu--like the entrees.
Columbia City Ale House: Exceptionally good chicken sandwich and Reuben. Also, no kids, which can be wonderful.
Roy's: Tasty pulled pork, but the sandwich wasn't made very well. Thin sauce dumped on top of massive pile of meat. Good buns from Columbia City Bakery.
Tutta Bella: I can get take-out bottles of wine with my pizza. Oh, happiness.
Full Tilt Ice Cream: It's been open a few weeks, and I am ID'd as a regular. This has nothing to do with a hole in the floor--their ice cream is awesome, and cheap ($1.75/cone!). Coffee Oreo is my favorite so far.
Kawali Grill: Ate coconut fried chicken while listening to a bilingual live band cover Patsy Cline. I might move in.
Mawadda: Best falafel I've had in my life. Tiny sesame seeds for extra flavor, rich, soft texture, crispy-hot outsides. Plus mango lassi!
Pabla: Vegetarian Indian. Fluffiest naan ever; food tends to blandness.
Mrs. Johnson's Doughnuts: I was prepared to love these. Alas. Bland, heavy, greasy, and not very fresh.

Off Rainier, I've tried:
Kalaloo: Love the fried plantains and the strong drinks.
Empire Espresso: Bad vegan doughnuts, terrific coffee and the panini smell delicious. Weekend waffle bar was OK, not as good as the homemade version.
Jones BBQ: First meal I ate in the new house, thanks to friends bringing takeout. I do love that brisket, but I think the quality used to be better than it is now. 

I won't include the farmer's market stalls--or the 6 other taco trucks a bit further south. But you get the idea.

so much, so little

Separate post momentarily about the large hole in my kitchen floor and all the neighborhood places I've been eating, but first:

Edible Seattle is throwing a party, and you should come. SLASH (not the guitarist, but the Seattle Land and Sea Harvest Festival) is going to rock. Tons of awesome food from local sources, a fat donation to FareStart and FoodLife, and ME! Tickets are $35 until October 1, click this here link to procure one for yourself. It's casual, it's in SODO, and it's a mellow, filling way to spend an afternoon. Hope to see you there.

Ice Break Flood

Until a few minutes ago, I'd never even heard of an "ice break flood," but it's a pretty simply and descriptive name. Add the phrase "worst ever, according to tribal elders" and you've got the right picture--a cold, wet, potentially deadly event happening in a community that has very little in the way of spare resources. And they're stuck in Palin's Alaska.

The only ways in and out of the place are either currently blocked or at risk. The scale of Alaska being what it is, this "middle of nowhere" town is about 500 miles from an actual road; the thing like a road, which goes to a tiny airport, is closed, and the spot where their supply barge lands may not hold up. How do you get emergency food and supplies to folks in this situation?

I spent much of the last few weeks, particularly the last five days, writing a story about their salmon fishery and a collection of problems it has. Now this. I fear that unlike Katrina, or even the Chehalis flooding of 18 months ago, that the media will ignore it because nobody can get there to report on it. I found two media mentions of it printed today. One sounds awful. One sounds expected-and-not-a-big-deal. I think the not-as-awful report is slightly more recent, so perhaps the flood is in-n-out--which is still bad, but obviously not as bad as in-n-stick-around.

Please pay attention. Please remember to pay attention over the next several days.

Hurrah

Edible Seattle's new website went live this evening. Websites are never quite perfect and never quite done, but I'm proud for slogging through open source content management and making it happen. And I love the photo of the dairyman from Vic Jensen and Sons/Golden Glen Creamery that's the first thing on the page. He is the perfect face--and pose--to go along with my line about wanting farmers to be as famous as rock stars.

The Real First Day of Spring

...is declared arbitrarily, and coincides with my first everything-from-the-farmers'-market dinner. This year: carrots from Willie Greens, khoul from Turkish Lavash Company, Silly Billy cheese from River Valley, asparagus from Alvarez, and rhubarb from a new-to-me farm that I can't remember the name of. My evening beverage, while not purchased from a farmers' market, might as well have been--it was the blackberry variety from the Skagit Fresh Juice folks, and it was awesome. I don't think I've ever had a bottled blackberry-flavored product that actually tasted like blackberries.

So much has been happening there are a multitude of reasons I haven't been writing much: website redesign that involved learning an open source content management system with not much in the way of documentation (duh, it's open source!); house purchase (hello Columbia City!); helping in-laws with a tradeshow (hello nuns!); email explosion causing the loss of a metric ton of saved emails (goodbye, everything!); an annoying number of open houses and assorted events involved in selling a condo (I try not to hate you, world!); a hacking cough that turned me into a bad impression of Axl Rose (welcome to the hack-hack-jungle-hack-hack-hack!); the opening of a new Molly Moon's right around the corner, which caused me to stop baking and live on ice cream for a week (hello, tasty!).

I have a feeling that the next few months will be 50% kitchen remodel and 50% how much I love the things to eat that are available in Columbia City.

Not To Be A Complainer

But what the hell is a bag of Doritos doing in the goodie bag for Taste Washington? I like nacho cheese powder as much as the next girl, but you bring in 200 Washington wineries and something like 60 restaurants (some of them great, some of them not so much) and you send me home with a bag of Doritos? Previous years have netted my favorite reusable shopping bag, an excellent wooden spoon, and a ballpoint pen that says, "ah....the power of cheese" and is my favorite bit of swag ever. Now, it's the micro bag of Doritos. Honestly. It's not so much a visible sign of recession as it is a a visible sign of a trip to Costco.

My highlight was not actually food or wine--it was telling Chef Jason Wilson of Crush that his former sous chef (and still occasional assistant) took the cover shot for May's issue. The stunned slow-blink, the huge smile, the "are you fuckin' KIDDING ME?!" (with both punctuation marks)--he was clearly delighted, and he knew the photo right off after I described it. He went on at some length about how perfect it was for Washington food...not to leave you in suspense about the image, but it's my favorite cover yet, and has been something of a controversy. He was so obviously pleased for Zach it was lovely being the person who got to deliver the news.

Steal This Cake

This year's Edible Book Fest is April 4. This time around, I get to loll about being all lazy and celebrity-ish, so hurrah for me. If you weren't around for the previous years, here be the lowdown: People create book-inspired things of edible materials. They bring them to the building. Other people admire them. Everyone then eats the book-like things and goes home. Pretty simple. Crazy fun, if you like to eat, to look at art, to support great nonprofits, to try and explain to people what the hell you did over the weekend (and have them not get it). There are many delicious things to eat, and many terrible puns, and a lot of proud creators to applaud. One year, a friend ate an entire (very large) Jello trout, took bets that he couldn't eat the whole thing, triumphed, and gave all the money to that year's beneficiary (826 Seattle).  

This time, it's a benefit for the Center for Book Arts, taking place at the Good Shepherd Center, and there are judges (Molly Moon! Nancy Guppy! Michael Lieberman! Me!) and prizes and it's cheap (or free with an entry) and entirely possible to feed oneself for a week on the leftovers you can bring home. Especially if you like cake. And who doesn't like cake? Go to www.frybooks.com for photos/registration info/further explanations.

Please heap admiration on one of my previous entries--a sponge cake with a food coloring/fondant painting, meant to represent Fitzgerald's Tender is the Night.