Living the Single Life in Portland
I woke up staring Marilyn Monroe in the face. Her sultry face looked seductively over at me as I lay in bed as if enticing me to get up out of bed and come to her. I threw on my running clothes and headed outdoors. Despite the heavy metal music that was blasted across the street throughout most of the night, I got a pretty good sleep with the help of the free neon orange earplugs.
It was overcast and about 60F that morning which was incredibly refreshing. It was nice to wrap a scarf around my neck for a change. A block down the street I found Grendel’s coffee shop. It was a cozy small café with worn wooden floors and chalkboards with colorful writing. They had bagels and breakfast sandwiches but I opted for the granola bowl. While sitting outside in the crisp cool air, I had my latte and my heaping giant bowl of homemade granola, yogurt, and mixed berry and plum compote.
Sufficiently fueled and caffeinated, I ventured out for my morning run. Before leaving Jupiter Hotel, I stopped at the front desk to see if I could delay my check out time. The friendly red head at the front desk was happy to oblige. She said, “That’s totally fine but now you have to let me look at your wedding ring!” I looked down at my right hand where I was wearing an antique ring given to me by my grandmother on my recent 30th birthday. I clarified that the ring was not any sign of matrimony, just a family heirloom, and that I was definitely single. She said, “How are you single?? You are beautiful!” I laughed, thanked her and said, “I am really happy to be single.” “I totally hear you!” she responded.
Portland was clearly still asleep when I set out on my run around 9:30am. The bums were out already. I ran by a homeless older black man who told me that I looked pretty even when I was running. Thanks, buddy. There were still some homeless people sleeping at the end of the Burnside Bridge but most of them had already packed up their sleeping bags for the day. A few were smoking their morning bowl; gotta have that eye-opener!
The International Rose Test Garden seemed like a good location to head towards on my run. It was only about three and a half miles from my hotel but half of it was uphill. The latter part was quite challenging and steep for a runner who is used to training below sea level. The last part of the run was through some trails surrounded by tall fragrant pine trees and beautiful Victorian homes. It was so green, dim and peaceful in that little area that I forgot I was in the middle of a city.
Before I could even see the rose garden, I could smell it. Portland is known as the Rose City. It has the perfect rose-growing climate and so it is famous for its perfect blooms. The rose garden sits on top of a hill overlooking downtown Portland. The gardens are laid out in terraces. Each flower is labeled. Every size, color, and fragrance are on display. The dew was still glistening on the colorful petals. The only other people out there that morning were the Japanese tourists, they take their photo sessions very seriously!
After taking a quick jaunt around the garden, snapping a few photos on my iPhone, I decided to proceed with my run. I weaved my way downhill through quiet tree lined streets until I ended up in the Portland State University campus. It looked a lot different without the bustle of the farmers market going on. I was impressed to find a bike garage on site; it was a small screen enclosed building with two levels for parking bicycles. While I continued my run through the city, the sun finally broke out of the clouds and it was like the city light up in a green hue as the sun shone through the leafy trees.
Eight miles later I wound up back at my hotel. The neighborhood had finally woken up and the cafes and eateries were full of people. I cooled off in the shower and then left my backpack behind the hotel front desk. The redhead receptionist said, “Go out and enjoy the single life!”
I hopped the #6 bus up north, bound for a brunch spot three miles to the north called Tasty N Sons, that had been recommended to me by a few different folks I’d met. It as located on North Williams St in a warehouse type of building that housed many other Portland-esque shops including a yoga supply store, a coffee roaster, bike shop, two funky salons, a shop with cooking classes, a chiropractor, and more.
Tasty N Sons is a bar and restaurant with it’s own charcuterie adjacent. As I walked up to the front door, I heard a woman say that she’d been quoted a one and a half our wait time. I started to feel discouraged that I had come all the way up here to get bad news like that. I walked up to the hostess and she said that she could seat me immediately. This whole dining alone thing was really working out in my favor as I got to prompt seating at all the hot spots in town!
She sat me down at one corner of a long wooden table with shared dining. I was sandwiched between a few groups of people. The restaurant was lofty and industrial. On one wall was a huge chalkboard listing all of the local farms and purveyors where they had procured their food items. Another wall had a large bicycle painted on in black. The kitchen was completely open. The drink menu had a bunch of creative cocktails listed as well local wines and beers. Food menu consisted of small and large plates. I consulted the waitress for tips on what to order. I finally settled on a local Kolsch style brew to drink and for food I ordered three small plates and one larger plate.
The first item to come out was a chocolate potato donut hole with crème anglaise sauce followed quickly by a warm date stuffed with an almond, wrapped in griddled bacon and drizzled with maple syrup. I washed it down with my hoppy but refreshing beer. Next up was a radicchio salad with a tangy dressing, parmesan cheese and olives. I got the half portion and it was still huge! Finally came the entrée that my waitress said was the item on the menu that she was the most excited about. I always take the restaurant staff’s recommendations seriously. It was Burmese red pork stew with short grain rice & eggs two ways. The two ways were one fried egg and one hard-boiled, marinated and chopped egg. I also got to have an up-close look at the food that my table mates had also ordered. Some of the highlights included: Polenta & Sausage Ragu with mozzarella & fried egg, toast & jam with teleme cheese, glazed yams with cumin-maple. I finished every last bite of my food and was pleasantly surprised to see that the bill only amounted to $21.
I strolled through the other shops on the street and spent a little time in a funky shop full of crafty gift items like candles, artsy journals, and fresh cut flowers. Right next to that shop was Ristretto Roasters, a hand-roasted artisanal coffee shop. As I walked in the door, I saw a small group of people being lead through a formal coffee tasting & smelling. They definitely took their coffee very seriously here in the Pacific Northwest.
I ordered and slowly drank a beautifully brewed latte. As delicious as it was, I still don’t think it topped the latte I get at my local cafe in Houston, Catalina Coffee. I savored my drink while sitting outside and catching up on my writing. While taking breaks in typing I people watched. There were lesbian couples with strollers and dogs on leashes. There were middle-aged women with sleeve tattoos. There was a family who, upon further eavesdropping, was bring their teenage daughter for her college orientation. There were a few 30-somethig men reading books and catching up. The afternoon sun was warm and relaxing. It was a perfect way to pass a few hours on a Sunday.
Instead of paying the whopping $2 to take the bus back, I decided I would walk back to downtown Portland. On the way I passed some colorfully painted bike stores, funky vintage shops, and quaint and eclectic cafes that all seemed to have men with creatively coiffed facial hair sitting outside. I even saw a sign for a solar powered waffle truck...I can die a happy woman knowing that this amazing feat of culinary greenery exists. I decided that I would walk to the hotel where Jason and I would stay later that night and check in while I waited for his flight to arrive from Houston. I almost made a pit stop at the Bridgeport Brewery while walking through the Pearl District, but thought better of it when I realized what time it was.
In the heart of downtown I found our hotel, the Crystal Hotel which is part of the McMenamins corporation. This is a local Oregon franchise formed by a few brothers who have gone around the state, bought up historic properties and remade them into funky hotels. The place was built in 1911 as a hotel but on their website is described like this: “During its various incarnations, this hotel site has been a point of confluence for pioneer city builders, underworld kingpins, musicians, drag queens, head shop patrons, artists, bathhouse denizens and internment camp survivors.” Adjacent to the hotel is the Crystal Ballroom which hosts many well-known artists for concerts.
After I grabbed our keys, I made my way back to the Jupiter Hotel where Jason would pick me up. I wanted to catch the end of the every Sunday event called “Pickin on Sundays” at the bar/lounge affiliated with the Jupiter hotel, called the Doug Fir. As I was about to walk over the Burnside Bridge one last time, a wildly gesturing black homeless man nearly burned me with his cigarette. “Sorry!” he said, “Damn! You have a nice figure on you! Good for you, girl!!” Was it too much to ask to meet a mentally stable permanently housed man? This is not the “single life” I had always idealized!! I passed a man on the bridge who angrily said, “Faggot” under his breath as he nearly bumped my shoulder with his own. This was the first time in my life I had been the recipient of such a harsh word. As a lover of gays the world over, and a self-proclaimed “honorary gay” myself, I took serious offense to this comment. I later relayed the story to Jason and asked, “Why would he say such a thing to me?!” Jason said, “Umm, I don’t know, maybe it was your short dyke spike and your long jorts.” (read: jean shorts). Hmm, perhaps he had a point…
Back at the Doug Fir, there was a large gathering on the back patio around the band called Douver. I ordered a cocktail with Buffalo Bourbon, fresh lemon juice and a cherry. I sat out on the sunny patio in the 7pm sunlight and reveled at the wonderful life of the Portland summertime. Ah, I felt at home amongst the bearded men in flannel and short-haired women in tunics and flowery printed hipster dresses. Jason walked in to the bar and gave me a big hug. We enjoyed the last song that the mellow Duover had to play, before hopping in the car.
Pok Pok restaurant had been recommended to me by a number of people. It is a popular restaurant in the northeast of Portland. The residential neighborhood there consists of some funky old homes that have been converted to eateries, bars and shops. It reminded me a bit of the Rainey Street section of Austin. I had been warned that the wait for a table at Pok Pok could be quite lengthy, so we were not surprised when the hostess told us it would be an hour and a half til we’d get a table.
We walked across the street to the Whisky Soda Lounge where the Pok Pok appetizer menu was available as well as an array of whiskeys. I have to admit, I almost jumped ship on the way when I saw a food truck park that advertised via a chalkboard out front “One of the top five mac n cheeses in Portland.”
Jason and I moseyed up to a bar seat at the Whiskey Soda Lounge. First things first, we ordered drinks. Jason chose the Tamarind Whisky Sour and I went for the bartender recommended Hunny (fresh squeezed grapefruit juice with lime, honey, drinking vinegar, and tequila) which was served in a steel martini glass. For appetizers, we also trusted the bartenders suggestions and got the Miang Kham (chiles, ginger, peanuts, dried shrimp, lime, shallots with a coconut wrapped in betel leaves with a ginger sauce. Wow, these were flavorful, spicy and delicious. Were betel leaves from the same plant that made the highly addictive and cancer-causing betel nut that is all the rage in Asia? Who knows and who cares! Cause that stuff was off the chain.
Next on the menu was deep fried green papaya and long green beans with a spicy peanut chilli sauce. Jason wolfed it down. Finally I ordered an egg dish recommended to me by my friend, Romy. It was called Chef Chew’s Khai Luuk Khoei and consisted of deep fried hard-boiled farm eggs with sweet & spicy tamarind sauce and fried shallots. It was pretty damn amazing. I washed it down with another cocktail called the Rhubarb Blush which contained aperol, gin, fresh lime, and rhubarb bitters on the rocks. It was not at all sweet, but refreshingly tart. While we ate, Jason and I discussed that idea of getting tattoos in Oregon. Clearly we were inspired by the many tatted people in Portland. Jason said he would like to get a wave or a dolphin on his inner ankle. I said I’d like to get a leaf, a tree of life, or an earth on my hip or inner wrist. We were so predictable.
Jason and I were about to throw in the towel and eat the Mac N Cheese next door when my cell phone rang. It was the hostess of Pok Pok informing us that our table was ready. We paid our tab and got our seat at the crowded Pok Pok. At this point we were barely even still hungry, but we had to try some more food anyway. The chef of Pok Pok had recently won the James Beard Award (ie. The Oscars of Food). I ordered a corn on the cob which was grilled with coconut milk and some other amazing flavors that now escape me. Jason got the Kung Op Wun Sen which was wild caught gulf prawns (holla back, Houston!) baked in a clay pot over charcoal with pork belly, lao, jinn, soy, ginger, cilantro root, black pepper, celery root, and bean thread noodles. My main dish was called Kaeng Hung Leh and consisted of Northern Thai sweet pork belly and pork shoulder curry with ginger, palm sugar, tumeric, tamarind, Burmese curry powder and picked garlic. I got this with some coconut rice that was subtly but delicious flavored. We wash this all down with the restaurants “tap” water which was obviously spiked with some fresh coconut water.
After having worked a 24-hour shift on Labor and Delivery and flying on a connecting flight from Texas to Portland, Jason was understandably tired. We drove back to our hotel and found our room on the third floor. Each room door had painted on it a song lyric or performance from a band that had taken to the stage at the Crystal Ballroom. Each of the rooms had a unique décor. Ours was a sultry maroon; there was a guitar painted on the headboard. Jason didn’t even have time to change out of his clothes before he passed out in bed. I took a quick visit to the soaking tubs in the basement of the hotel. I found a large hot tub tempered pool in a cavernous bamboo walled room. It was quite inviting, and in fact I considered putting on one of the hotel-provided plush bathrobes to try it out. I noticed that the only other patrons heading down to the pool were a couple of pimply-faced muffin-topped teenaged boys and so I thought better of that plan. It was time for this old gal to get some sleep in bed next to her gay husband.
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