Food, Glorious Food

I have been happily eating my way through Portland. Breakfast has been high on my list, but there have been a couple of notable exceptions. To sum up my culinary delights.

On the first day back, I went to Toast (SE Steele and 52nd) for the pork belly. Oh, dear Lord, it is heaven in a slice of pork. This is nothing that could be described as "bacon". It makes me look back with even greater fondness on the Iron Chef Pork Belly Battle. I think I would have enjoyed that so much more if I had had some pork belly. Anyway, it's a thick-ol slice of, well, pork belly. Imagine a strip of pork roast surrounded on two sides by a strip of warm fat. Sounds gross if you aren't fond of things like homemade cracklins. If, however, you find fried chicken skin to be the best thing on the planet, well then, this meat is for you. As you bite into a piece, the warm grease explodes through your mouth with such an intense pork flavor, everything else on the plate pales in comparison. Mind you, the rest of the plate is tasty too. Comes with a couple of fried eggs and a homemade potato rosti (think hashbrown, but better), loving sprinkled with chopped, fresh parsley and served over a small puddle of balsamic reduction. Oh, with a bloody mary on the side that comes with homemade pickles (you know, cauliflower, okra). If you are, or are ever, in Portland: GO TO TOAST.

It started snowing, so then I opted for a walk to the Screen Door for some Saturday morning brunch. Screen Door (24th and E. Burnside) has the best biscuits and gravy in town. However, I opted for the special fried chicken cathead biscuit. The biscuit (as big as a cat's head) is split and topped with a spicy fried chicken breast, topped with sausage gravy, and served with potatoes or grits. I went grits. But I was sharing, so we also had a hash that was good -- there was horseradish in it -- and a smoked salmon omelet. Yum.

Once the snow cleared, it was off to Genie's (SE 11th and Division) for the eggs benedict. I've tried about all the benedicts in town, and Genie's wins. The Hollandaise tastes like butter. Seriously. It is velvety smooth, with a subtle lemon twist and the aforementioned butter. Ahhh. I can hear my arteries clogging from here. I forgot about the West Coast's penchant for undercooking eggs, so there were a couple of runny spots in the white of my eggs, but I decided to deal. I hadn't specified that I wanted runny yolks, but solid whites to the waiter. The potatoes are kinda whatever, and I got the end of a basket so they were all small and extra crispy, but it didn't matter. It was all about the muffin, locally made Canadian bacon, egg, and that sauce.

There was also a trip to Cricket Cafe at SE 32nd and Belmont. I didn't get the cricket omelet, that is hangover or trucker fare (a four-egg omelet with bacon, tomato, onion, cheese and the hashbrowns on the INSIDE, all covered with sausage gravy). I did have a delish sausage burrito, though. Nice interplay of eggs, sausage, and black beans. Good homemade salsa on top. Hashbrowns were a little greasy, but you can't always have it all.

This morning, after explaing to my dear friend CK that there is a Kettleman Bagels on this side of town -- just a few blocks from her house at SE 11th and Sherman, I had the best bagel in Portland. It might be the best bagel I've ever eaten. Now, I haven't been to New York on a bagel hunt, so I won't say that it's the best ever. But in Portland, they pass off anything round as a bagel, even if it's just floofy white bread, so these bagels really hit the spot. I have long said that Brueggar's sets the standard for all bagels: anything less than Brueggar's is NOT a bagel. Kettleman shows up Brueggar's. (The owner learned the trade in NYC, so don't fear, these are NYC bagels.) The only thing left to say is that in my Cali town, it's possible to go to a bagel shop that does not serve veggie, onion, OR herb cream cheese. I think that's against the bagel laws (although I haven't checked). So a crunchy on the outside, chewey in the middle everything bagel smeared with green onion cream cheese that hasn't had the life whipped out of it was very, very welcome.

Of course, I've been inhaling Stumptown coffee like it was going out of style, as well as any sort of micro IPA I can get my hands on. HUB (Hopworks Urban Brewery at SE 28th and Powell) definitely is good beer. Look for it. It packs a whallop, though, so beware.

Also on the list were the fish 'n chips at the Horsebrass (at SE 47th and Belmont). Everyone in there was smoking like it was going out of style (probably because as of January 1st, it will be out of style -- and against the law) which is a downer. I don't believe that anyone who say that the smoke is "part of the charm" of the Horsebrass is telling the truth; that lie gets passed around just to make you feel better for going. No, the smokers might appreciate the chance to smoke, but no one patronizes the establishment just so they can leave reeking like an old-timer at the Eagles Lodge. They go for the fish 'n chips. Solid cod, battered and fried served over homemade chips. Comes with slaw or a salad for a $1 more. And not so many chips, either. It's about the fish and the salad, with the chips just to make you feel good, but leaden with grease. Solid ranch (with the salad, of course -- but enough left over for the chips), too. Of course, sometimes the fry cook is off. It was pretty packed, so my fish were slightly overdone; but poorly cooked fish at the Horsebrass is well-cooked anywhere else. The fish was still hot and juicy, just a tad tough.

Tonight, though. Oh tonight. Going to Yoko's (SE 28th and Gladstone). Taka's tuna and the Poki roll. I might have to forgo my usual plain tuna roll in light of all that tuna. Tuna tuna tuna. Mmmmm.... Tuna. Yoko's is my favoritest sushi restaurant, ever. I do love some Sushi Blue in Raleigh, free birthay sushi is always welcome, and Mio Sushi is to raw fish what Brueggar's is to bagels, but nothing beats Yoko's. I love the tiny room with it's eclectic decor. I love the food. I love that you can wait at the bar next door and would call over the bar when your table was ready, but now they just call your cell phone.

And after the tuna feast of last night, I just want to say, "Yum". CK and I skipped the plain tuna roll for a spicy tuna roll, and added to the feast with some veggie tempura. (There is very little in this world that I do NOT like deep-fried.) We were sated, but not stuffed. It was about perfect. And Yoko's was playing Barry White on the stereo. Oh, my God. CK and I made some sweet raw tuna love at the sushi bar. Between the unfiltered saki, the interplay of tuna, rice, avocado, green onion, and soy, the hot, crispy fried veggies, and the sultry music, we were in heaven. And having considered it all, I think that while the pork belly delivers an immediate and gratifying taste sensation, tuna does that, but more. The pork will slow you down and put you to sleep; the tuna wakes up your brain and makes you feel alive.

For my last feat, I'll be doing a little happy hour at the Nite Lite tonight. (I think it'll still be happy hour.) It's been a favorite haunt of mine, and it'll be very comfortable to go back and hang there for an hour or so before heading out to a quality house party.

Happy New Years everyone!

Some How or Other, It Came, Just the Same

Most of you (all of you?) might not know this, but I have intentionally separated myself from my family at Christmas. Before you freak out, hear me out.

I was married. We had some issues with my in(out)laws. We managed to mostly keep to what we (I) wanted for a happy Christmas, but it involved a lot of drama. (Ask me if you want the deets.) But we never (ever) made it back to Maine to be with my family. So, when I was divorced, I found myself in a strange position. I was, by all accounts, a worldly, self-acualized, independent woman who had not taken money from my parents in two (three?) years. I hadn't spend a holiday with them in just as long. To go home as the Youngest Unmarried Daughter just seemed like a giant step backwards.

That was the first year I spent Christmas with B. And if the skiing has anything to do with it, I made the right decision. (Rach -- you have some awesome friends that I still remember fondly, but the snow calls.) The next year, I recall, I spent with none of you. I was Hell bent on NOT establishing a Christmas tradition. Perhaps it was just all part and parcel of the self-centeredness that was my 20's (to be torn asunder by CJ's death), but I was establisng my own adult persona; it was very important to me.

So now I find myself separated [Rachel is so right] from my family on Christmas, and frankly (no pun intended), I don't mind. I have tried to be less selfish with my time and spend more time with my friends and family since those jealous 20s. Sometimes, however, it doesn't work out.

I spent so much time worrying about my flight that I was having no fun. Forget fun, I had no relief from my very stressful job. However, when I stopped trying to get to Bozeman, my whole vacation opened up. I wasn't checking NOAA every five minutes. I wasn't cruising the Alaska Airlines site every 30 min. I didn't care what Tri-Met had to say.

What I did have was three (four) offers of Chrismas that grew to six (seven). Anyone who knew I was "stuck" in Portland for Christmas immediately offered up their Christmas options. M invited me to Eugene, but with the horrible snow in Portland, I decided to pass on the drive. My Original Portland Friend (seriously, dude was the person who introduced me to kickball) was also stranded at the airport, gave me a ride home, AND told me I was welcome at Christmas. Others random people have invited me over to make sure that I'm not "alone."

What can I say? A long time ago I gave up on "the tree" and "the family" and I realized that I can survive. But I spent this Christmas with two people who have never been away from their families at all. They didn't know this until now.

Y'all might have never heard it, but the thing that I have loved about Portland is the people I have met, from kickball to climbling. This Christmas has only proved my experience; we came together to make a wonderful celebration for everyone. "Christmas came without ribbons, tags, packages, boxes, or bags -- but somehow or other it came just the same." It WAS Christmas, regardless of who was or wasn't there.

I can not say it any better than this: "Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more."

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Well, it looks like I'll be spending Christmas in Portland. After a rather quixotic, and long, trip to the airport this morning, my flight to Seattle was cancelled. It looked like maybe my flight to Bozeman was still on, but there was no way to get to Seattle to catch it. Planes have been grounded in Portland off-and-on since Saturday, so everything is super-packed. And, rumor has it that PDX has run out of deicing fluid; without that, no one is going anywhere on any airline.

I've already heard of some orphan Christmases, so I won't be alone. And all of your presents will be late. I can barely get to a post office, let alone know if the mail is actually getting through.

Travel Update

So, for those of you who may not know, I had plans to drive to Portland on Monday to spend a week before flying out to see B&J. And then the weather hit. On Monday, I-5 was closed north of Yreka because Siskyou pass is at, oh, 4300 feet and it was a bit snowy. Up until I left on Tuesday morning (and so was unable to check CalTran info), chains were required on those last 10 miles of California. I hit the road anyway, prepared for the worst, but hoping I have a window of opportunity.

I make it though fine. No chains required. Roads clear. A little slush the last 10 miles, but soft, mostly-gone, and sand-filled slush. All fine. I think I've got smooth-sailing to Eugene. (Where I planned to spend the night, because even "clear" roads can develop black ice after sunset.) And then I hit the snow.

Ergh. Oregon did a bad job clearing sections of I-5. There was a good 10 miles worth of hardened ice about 30 miles south of Eugene (at Cottage Grove, if you're playing along on Google Maps). I was going a good 5mph. The last 30 miles, which should have been about 20-30 minutes worth of driving, turned into an hour and a half. And then Eugene roads weren't much better.

Now they're calling for more snow and rain today. I could probably make it through. Actually, I probably could have if I had left at 6am, but I was asleep at 6am. And the roads were crappy yesterday and it's been nothing but cold. The precip is due to start falling at any time, and I really don't want to get caught out in I-5 in nowhere-ville when it hits. Sure, I can drive in the stuff -- all those winters in Maine come in handy, but I also know enough to know that I don't have snow tires on my car, and that does make a difference. I also know that all the SUVers out there insist that they CAN drive in snow just because they have an SUV. I do have chains, and I do know how to use them, but they are a pain in the ass. And if I learned one thing from M&D (besides to watch out for the drunks and fools), it's that discretion is the better part of valor where snow is concerned; or, it doesn't take much to become a "fool" yourself.

So, I'm sitting in my friend's duplex in Eugene. (She is also a reader of this blog. Hey M! You're the best!) Gonna kick it here to today, see what tomorrow brings. NOAA is saying more snow, athough yesterday it was supposed to be clear tomorrow, so obviously the weather system is a bit fickle.

Well, at least I'm not sitting on my couch in Salinas. It's really boring there. And I am save and alive with no recent accidents to my credit. I'm just 100 miles from where I was planning on being.

Random Musings

Today, about half of my students weren't in class when the bell rang. And it was a late-start day. You tell me where they were, if not in class. Well, two days before break, I wans't about ready to go through some big teaching lesson that I would just have to repeat for everyone else anyway. A few students did trickle in, but there were still 8 students missing. So I did a listening comprehension activity.

It sounds pretty baby. I read a story. They listen and draw pictures. However, my education has told me that many students struggle with that part of reading. They don't know that good readers create pictures in their head as they read. Listening is a standard, too. It's actually a fairly complicated task, when you think about it. Listen to a story. Pick out key images. Imagine what they look like. Translate that to paper. Keep on listening to the story. It takes some mental gymnastics. Of course, it wasn't super planned, because I had to scrap my lesson when half the class was missing at 9am.'

Of course, today was the day when my New Teacher Support Liason (or whatever) decided to come visit. (My students had, of course, wanted to do "nothing" today. Thank God I always refuse that offer.) Later, when I saw her, she made a short comment about their age. Like the lesson was too baby. F you, woman. I have students reading at a 3rd - 5th grade level. (Not all of them, but more than one.) Most are below grade level. So you tell me that baby is baby for kids below grade level? They NEED to be met at their level. (Teaching English Learners Lesson #37.)

Anyway. End of class, kid who transferred in a few weeks ago (something wrong with one of his other classes) with a 26% was wondering about his grade. Yes, you are still failing. Yes, your grade comes with you. So, why was he not doing work. I get my favorite response, "Ms. XXXXX isn't a good teacher." Ugh. I hate that for a few reasons. 1) I know there are students who say that about me (of course, they don't tell you someone else is bad when they think YOU are bad); 2) It absolves the students of all personal responsibility; 3) It's not very polite, respectful, or empathetic. I know this teacher is an intern, a wonderful woman, and doing her absolute best. (I know the same thing about myself -- except for the intern part, and I know some students think I suck. I don't, it's just a reality of being a new teacher.)

Anyway, after sorting through how her teaching style doesn't matter and not doing the work really only hurts him, he (and another kid hanging around) told me I was a good teacher. It's nice to hear from time to time. They think I make things fun and class isn't boring. I think that they bring that with them. I feed off of their energy. But if they want to think it's me -- OK! (I know, where is my "personal responsibility" speech now? Well, it's all about me, right? Right.)

Oh, and about the story. I took time at the end of class to walk around the room. I made myself check in with students who don't talk in class. I made them describe their pictures to me. Especially students who are English learners. In general, EL students do not talk enough at school. And one of my brats actually drew a couple of pictures. He didn't draw much, but it's the most work he's done in quite some time. But the lesson is too baby. Heaven forbid I let my students succeed at something.

What's that saying? Oh yeah -- Nothing breeds success like success.

(If you couldn't hear it in my typing, I'm totally being sarcastic there. Not the quote, that part is true.)

I'm Jus' Sayin'

Ebenezer Scrooge is a cold-hearted bitch (in the parlance of our times) and makes a lot of money. But then he sees the error of his ways, and turns all good. So, he starts giving his money away.

Now, don't get me wrong. I think A Christmas Carol ("A Christmas Carol"?) is one of the greatest Christmas works in history. It's up there with "A Christmas Memory", "Santaland Diaries", and It's A Wonderful Life. I thinks it's even more impressive that Dickens wrote this before the whole Christmas genre thing took off. And I've read Christmas Stories, or whatever it's called. The others stories -- not as good. We know A Christmas Carol by name and not the other because A Christmas Carol is true genius. The rest? Sorta forced and lame. Sorry Charlie. There it is.

Anyway. Scrooge has his old change of heart and starts giving away the dough. Where does it end? This is a philosophical question: How much can he really change and still keep his dedication to humanity? If he reforms his business practices and starts being nice, well, he loses all his money. Without money, can he support Bob and Tiny Tim and the two men soliciting for money? So has his reformation done any good? Can he justify being stingy with others to make money to help those he knows? Or does he just have enough money that he can spend it all like crazy until he dies and not have to do anything but live off interest?

It's all Over but the Waiting

Today was one more day in my life in the state that has more bureaucracy than China. Today's bureaucratic moment was a standardized test proving that I am qualified to teach English Learners. Let's forget, for a moment, that I just finished a Master's program in education that prepared me for the realities of today's student population, including English Learners. Fine. Whatever. California will not believe it from the A's I received in "Strategies for Teaching Culturally and Liguistically Diverse Students", "Multicultural Education", and "Literacy Across the Curriculum". I have to take the test. Oh, and I'm also supposed to attend 10 DAYS at a district-sponsored seminar about all this stuff. Oh, the 10 days? Those are class days. Oh, and always Tuesday and Thursday, so with my school's block schedule, that's the equivalent of 20 instructional days with two of my classes and ALL MY PREP PERIODS (because I don't get a prep every day). All so I can take the test. The standardized test.

We're in education, right? So we understand assessment and the need for assessment and reliability and validity and test bias -- in fact, all of these concepts are tested on this test. This test, which I think *fingers crossed* I passed, asked a lot of tricky questions. This was not a straight-forward, "Do you know the information?", but "Do you know how to read this question closely enough to weed out the correct answer from the distractors?" Right. Because tricky multiple choice test questions are the best way to assess understanding and not to assess vocabulary or test-taking ability. Good luck to the English Learners in the crowd (yes, even teachers don't always speak English as their primary language -- which is a good thing).

Oh, and many of the people taking the test were old-skool teachers who hadn't mananged to take care of this requirement five years ago when it was first instituted and now the Williams Act requires them to do it and boy, are they grumpy. Grumpy McGrumpersons. They got all snarky about the requirements to keep the test site secure. Just shut up already and put your cell phone in the car and don't whine. They man told you to go downstairs because upstairs is off-limits until the test starts. Deal. Stop yammering about how stupid it all is. You're worse than my students who at least complain about things that generally are stupid (or that they're too stupid to know aren't actually stupid). You -- should be smart enough to know that people DO cheat on tests. Even teachers. Even teachers who don't especially want to take a test that they think is both insulting and difficult. Go figure the administrators are worried about cheating. (Not, I must add, did I actually witness any teacher who in any way seemed to be cheating on the test. They were all on the level, but God, get over it. People cheat. I see it in my room every day.)

No. I don't know when I get my scores. I'm not sure I really care. I've either passed, or I haven't. Judging from the number of repeat-takers in the room today, I would not be the first person to fail a test.