This past weekend, my parents traveled to Tacoma to welcome the birth of my second niece. When they had to cut their stay early due to a cold (What a bummer drag!), they were forced to drive down to Portland in lieu of going over Snoqualmie Pass (which was closed indefinitely, thanks to the weather).
Despite the fact that I knew their drive would be an extra 4 hours, I was jealous. Still am, actually.
Upon telling Jason he asked if they could grab us coffee, lemon poppyseed quickbread, charcuterie, a place to live and jobs as awesome as his current one.
Don't get me wrong; we are enjoying the heck out of our time here. We just miss the hell out of Portland. There's something comforting about the 45 degree weather, complete with it's gray skies and constant drizzle that feels like home. We miss the hippie kids sitting outside of New Seasons asking if we want to help "the, like, good cause of legalizing marijuaaaaaaaaaana maaaaaaan," the cheap movie theaters where we can buy tickets, two slices of pizza, candy and drinks for $18, and the entourage of tiny cars that made us feel like we belonged.
And of course, we miss our friends.
Luckily, on Saturday we found a little place that made us feel right at home.
Thanks to our friends the Beausejours, we finally went to this general store in OTR called Park + Vine. Sammy told me earlier last week that the store was having a killer baby stuff sale and that we should check it out, since many of their products are items we've put on our baby registry. Seriously, the store is awesome. After spending a solid two hours driving around to find a place to dump our recycling and buying apartment-repair goods at Home Depot, we walked into Park + Vine and felt...relieved. Comforted. Stoked beyond all belief.
The store is pretty awesome. There's a cafe that makes amazing-smelling vegan food. There's a marketplace that sells more kinds of kombucha than I've heard of (They even have Oregon Kombucha starter kits!!!). There's a home goods section that sells toilet seats for proper pooping (No I'm not kidding and yes this is awesome). And of course, there's the baby section.
This is the first time Jas and I have really BOUGHT stuff for baby and let me tell you, it was simultaneously fantastic and overwhelming. Perusing through the shelves of cloth diapers, I realized I have little-to-no idea what to do with one. Jas held up a package of what looked like rags to me, only to say, "Hey, these are what my mom put me and Bri in." He wanted to get them while I imagined being home alone with baby, trying to figure out how the heck to use them as I wipe baby poo off of the walls. Needless to say, we didn't get those. But we did walk out with some diapers (that I am VERY confident I'll know how to use), locally made bibs, diaper liners and a diaper pale liner. I could have easily purchased one of everything there but I'm figuring it's probably more important for Poppyseed to have a crib with a mattress than fifteen bibs, a onesie that says, "My dad has more tattoos than your dad," a dozen pairs of booties and six baby carriers.
Priorities.
Upon checking out, I think the dude must have witnessed our "WTF do we do with these diapers?" scene because he mentioned that the store puts on cloth diaper classes, in addition to a boat load of other natural and hippy-ish classes. I'm very excited to be adding many of them to our calendar.
Like I said, it's a piece of home away from home...just without the smell of dirty hippy.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Fun Facts: Volume I
As I drive around, go out on coffee dates and surf the internet, I come across so many little factoids about Cincinnati and Covington that simply amaze me and make me think, "Hey, it's not so bad here after all."
I figured, for those of you who are lucky enough to still be in Portland (Ahem, Pat and Coco and Dr. Brassard) or who've found sunny reprieve in California (Ahem, KG, Eli, Selena and Erin) with Jason's side of the family or who live elsewhere in Washington (Hi Mom and Dad!) OR anywhere else in the US (Megs, Jacob), that I'd let you in on my list of interesting facts about the area.
Caveat: You may not find them even remotely interesting. No fear, I'll continue to post about our experiences in non-list form.
So, here it goes:
1. The dude who wrote the song, "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" was born and raised in Covington, Kentucky. His name is Haven, making this fact doubly awesome.
2. Running around the perimeter of Covington is exactly a half marathon. Yep, that's how small of a city I now reside in. I'm looking forward to rocking that half while training for the Flying Pig Marathon next year.
3. Cincinnati chili is unique because it uses sweet spices like cinnamon, cardamom and chocolate (And no, I still can't bring myself to try it. I'm still smitten with the Laurelhurst Market chili Jason and I indulged in months ago back in Portland). One of these days, Jas and I are going to man up and go to Skyline Chili with Epipheo's other newest Portland transplants, Chase and his girlfriend Cat, to see what the ado is all about. Once we've patronized it, we will absolutely require all friends and family who visit us to dine there, too. You've all been warned.
4. Front license plates aren't needed. Jas and I first noticed the very obvious lack of front license plates when Epipheo brought us here in September to woo him/us into moving here. We are particularly sensitive to cars without front license plates after a small fender bender dented ours. We took it off and realized that putting it back on so that it didn't hang crooked was a bigger pain in the bum than giving birth will probably be (Okay, that's definitley hyperbolic, but let's just roll with it). While that may have been fine and dandy here in Ohio/Kentucky, it wasn't in Portland. Driving around sans front license plate in Oregon got us a lot of tickets. From the same cop. Yes, we should have learned our lesson -- and we did -- and tried to fix it, multiple times. Nevertheless, neither Kentucky nor Ohio require front license plates. I guess it's a nice karma atonement for all of the freaking money we've already doled out for that damn front plate.
5. Speaking of cars, there's the honking. We're learning that honking is an oft-used form of communication here (and not in just a "Meep meep asshole" type of way). It could be too soon to fairly declare this as a Tristate area truth, but it definitely is in our neighborhood. Whether it's 6:30 in the morning, 4 in the afternoon or past the wee hours of midnight, the drivers in our neighborhood honk. A lot. You know, just to say, "Hey, I'm here to pick you up," or "Hey move your car from behind my car so I can leave," or "Hey I forgot something can you get it for me?" Isn't that what a cell phone is for?
6. Cincinnati is called the Queen City. Well, technically it was once called the Queen City of the West. I read that the term "queen city" refers to the biggest city in at state that isn't a capital (So I guess you could say we moved from one queen city to another). Cincinnati has Henry Wadsworth Longfellow to thank for the nickname, thanks to the homage paid in his poem, "Catawba Wine." There's a square in downtown Cincinnati that has the line from this poem etched into a stone wall. I noticed it first back in September while celebrating a rare bout of non-nausea with some Graeter's sorbet.
7. You can still smoke in bars and other public places that are notoriously forbidden on the West Coast.
8. I'm also pretty sure it's legal to drive and talk on your cellphone at the same time. It only kind of scares me, mainly when I'm getting onto the I-75/I-71S bridge, jammed between four semis, one with a driver whose talking on his mobile.
9. "Please?" means "Come again?" I noticed this when I had to go into the hospital a couple of weeks ago for a non-stress test for baby (Everything turned out fine, no worries!). When the nurse came in after I had changed into my gown, I mumbled that I could move up to the edge of the bed. She responded with a quizzical expression and the simple question, "Please?" It took me a moment to understand. When I got home I Googled "Cincinnati Expressions" and found out, thanks to this awesome city dictionary, that it means, "Pardon me" and the like. I like it. I think it's a much more respectful way of saying, "What the heck did you just say?" like I normally would.
10. BOTH Proctor and Gamble and Kroger's (a/k/a Fred Meyer's to my Pacific Northwest peeps) are both headquartered in Cincinnati. You know what that means? Cheap toiletries. $1.00 toothbrushes that are typically $3 back in Oregon? For this OCD tooth brusher, I couldn't be happier. My bright white smile will tell you so.
Okie dokie, ten is a good, solid number. Go ahead and call me Letterman, because I'm stopping there.
Until next time!
I figured, for those of you who are lucky enough to still be in Portland (Ahem, Pat and Coco and Dr. Brassard) or who've found sunny reprieve in California (Ahem, KG, Eli, Selena and Erin) with Jason's side of the family or who live elsewhere in Washington (Hi Mom and Dad!) OR anywhere else in the US (Megs, Jacob), that I'd let you in on my list of interesting facts about the area.
Caveat: You may not find them even remotely interesting. No fear, I'll continue to post about our experiences in non-list form.
So, here it goes:
1. The dude who wrote the song, "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" was born and raised in Covington, Kentucky. His name is Haven, making this fact doubly awesome.
2. Running around the perimeter of Covington is exactly a half marathon. Yep, that's how small of a city I now reside in. I'm looking forward to rocking that half while training for the Flying Pig Marathon next year.
3. Cincinnati chili is unique because it uses sweet spices like cinnamon, cardamom and chocolate (And no, I still can't bring myself to try it. I'm still smitten with the Laurelhurst Market chili Jason and I indulged in months ago back in Portland). One of these days, Jas and I are going to man up and go to Skyline Chili with Epipheo's other newest Portland transplants, Chase and his girlfriend Cat, to see what the ado is all about. Once we've patronized it, we will absolutely require all friends and family who visit us to dine there, too. You've all been warned.
4. Front license plates aren't needed. Jas and I first noticed the very obvious lack of front license plates when Epipheo brought us here in September to woo him/us into moving here. We are particularly sensitive to cars without front license plates after a small fender bender dented ours. We took it off and realized that putting it back on so that it didn't hang crooked was a bigger pain in the bum than giving birth will probably be (Okay, that's definitley hyperbolic, but let's just roll with it). While that may have been fine and dandy here in Ohio/Kentucky, it wasn't in Portland. Driving around sans front license plate in Oregon got us a lot of tickets. From the same cop. Yes, we should have learned our lesson -- and we did -- and tried to fix it, multiple times. Nevertheless, neither Kentucky nor Ohio require front license plates. I guess it's a nice karma atonement for all of the freaking money we've already doled out for that damn front plate.
5. Speaking of cars, there's the honking. We're learning that honking is an oft-used form of communication here (and not in just a "Meep meep asshole" type of way). It could be too soon to fairly declare this as a Tristate area truth, but it definitely is in our neighborhood. Whether it's 6:30 in the morning, 4 in the afternoon or past the wee hours of midnight, the drivers in our neighborhood honk. A lot. You know, just to say, "Hey, I'm here to pick you up," or "Hey move your car from behind my car so I can leave," or "Hey I forgot something can you get it for me?" Isn't that what a cell phone is for?
6. Cincinnati is called the Queen City. Well, technically it was once called the Queen City of the West. I read that the term "queen city" refers to the biggest city in at state that isn't a capital (So I guess you could say we moved from one queen city to another). Cincinnati has Henry Wadsworth Longfellow to thank for the nickname, thanks to the homage paid in his poem, "Catawba Wine." There's a square in downtown Cincinnati that has the line from this poem etched into a stone wall. I noticed it first back in September while celebrating a rare bout of non-nausea with some Graeter's sorbet.
7. You can still smoke in bars and other public places that are notoriously forbidden on the West Coast.
8. I'm also pretty sure it's legal to drive and talk on your cellphone at the same time. It only kind of scares me, mainly when I'm getting onto the I-75/I-71S bridge, jammed between four semis, one with a driver whose talking on his mobile.
9. "Please?" means "Come again?" I noticed this when I had to go into the hospital a couple of weeks ago for a non-stress test for baby (Everything turned out fine, no worries!). When the nurse came in after I had changed into my gown, I mumbled that I could move up to the edge of the bed. She responded with a quizzical expression and the simple question, "Please?" It took me a moment to understand. When I got home I Googled "Cincinnati Expressions" and found out, thanks to this awesome city dictionary, that it means, "Pardon me" and the like. I like it. I think it's a much more respectful way of saying, "What the heck did you just say?" like I normally would.
10. BOTH Proctor and Gamble and Kroger's (a/k/a Fred Meyer's to my Pacific Northwest peeps) are both headquartered in Cincinnati. You know what that means? Cheap toiletries. $1.00 toothbrushes that are typically $3 back in Oregon? For this OCD tooth brusher, I couldn't be happier. My bright white smile will tell you so.
Okie dokie, ten is a good, solid number. Go ahead and call me Letterman, because I'm stopping there.
Until next time!
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Get Me Some Goetta
NOTE: I meant to post this blog 5 days ago; however a nasty head cold has put me behind in my blogging schedule.
Well it's official: I'm deep into my first Cincinnati-based food craving.
And no, it's not chili.
It started uh, not even 24 hours ago, thanks to a lovely gathering of friends for breakfast-for-dinner and Pass the Pigs at The Bethunes last night.
The table, elongated to accompany two handfuls of hungry eaters, was ladened with french toast, bacon, sausage, berries, home made whipped cream, two types of quiche and, a Cincinnati tradition, goetta.
First off, for those of you who aren't from around here, a lesson in pronuciation:
It's not go-etta or got-ta. You say it like this: gett-ta. Also acceptable are ged-duh and get-tuh. Why the silent O? I don't know.
It's simplicity is brilliant. Goetta (surprise, surprise) is a German meal (that actual Germans in Germany don't actually eat and haven't really ever heard of; go figure) consisting of ground meat, usually pork or beef, pin-head oats and spices. It's mainly a breakfast food, shaped in a patty and fried until done (or if you're like us, it's a dinner course) and pairs incredibly well with maple syrup...like, INCREDIBLY well.
So incredibly well that Poppyseed is kicking me as I write about it.
After geeking out (as I usually do) around the internet, I learned that Covington, our new home city, is actually the world's largest manufacturer of goetta, thanks to Glier's Goetta. I have to admit, I love the copy on their website so much that I must share it with you here in order to fully and oh-so-aptly describe how mouth-wateringly delicious goetta is:
"The patties begin to sizzle. The pin oats swell and pop. The spices throughout the gloriously marinated pork and beef infuse the atomsphere. And the corners of your brain turn up to a grin. While the crumbles dance in the hot pan, the rounds color to a golden brown, and your tongue puddles with anticipation. The final patty is flipped unveiling a brilliant batch of toasted treasures. The belly roars."
The incomplex dish got it's humble beginning 68 years ago when Robert Glier returned from WWII and was like, "I've got an old brewery I can use to make something delicious." Okay, he might not have said those exact words, but in my dreamlike mind as a food entrepreneur, I'd like to imagine his venture into this comestible was as simple as the recipe itself.
Goetta is so well loved and celebrated here in Covington that there's an annual Goettafest (I'm starting to think there's a festival for everything Cincinnati food/drink based, which is totally a-okay in my books and social calendar). Goettafest is held in August (this year from the 7th-10th for any of our out-of-town friends and family who wish to visit and eat the hell out of some goetta) this year and includes a boat load of activities like corn hole (another big-time Cincinnati past time), face painting, live music, belly dancers (performed by goetta-eating belly dancers, I hope) and of course, the opportunity to eat, eat, eat!
Needless to say, I'm stoked...doubly so, for finding a new dish here that I love so much. I'll admit, after leaving Portland and it's copious offerings of charcuterie, vegan cupcakes, pork belly, cheap and delicious Mexican food, etc. I thought it'd be impossible to find ANYTHING that I love here.
Alas, I was wrong. Thank goodness for that.
Well it's official: I'm deep into my first Cincinnati-based food craving.
And no, it's not chili.
It started uh, not even 24 hours ago, thanks to a lovely gathering of friends for breakfast-for-dinner and Pass the Pigs at The Bethunes last night.
The table, elongated to accompany two handfuls of hungry eaters, was ladened with french toast, bacon, sausage, berries, home made whipped cream, two types of quiche and, a Cincinnati tradition, goetta.
First off, for those of you who aren't from around here, a lesson in pronuciation:
It's not go-etta or got-ta. You say it like this: gett-ta. Also acceptable are ged-duh and get-tuh. Why the silent O? I don't know.
It's simplicity is brilliant. Goetta (surprise, surprise) is a German meal (that actual Germans in Germany don't actually eat and haven't really ever heard of; go figure) consisting of ground meat, usually pork or beef, pin-head oats and spices. It's mainly a breakfast food, shaped in a patty and fried until done (or if you're like us, it's a dinner course) and pairs incredibly well with maple syrup...like, INCREDIBLY well.
So incredibly well that Poppyseed is kicking me as I write about it.
After geeking out (as I usually do) around the internet, I learned that Covington, our new home city, is actually the world's largest manufacturer of goetta, thanks to Glier's Goetta. I have to admit, I love the copy on their website so much that I must share it with you here in order to fully and oh-so-aptly describe how mouth-wateringly delicious goetta is:
"The patties begin to sizzle. The pin oats swell and pop. The spices throughout the gloriously marinated pork and beef infuse the atomsphere. And the corners of your brain turn up to a grin. While the crumbles dance in the hot pan, the rounds color to a golden brown, and your tongue puddles with anticipation. The final patty is flipped unveiling a brilliant batch of toasted treasures. The belly roars."
The incomplex dish got it's humble beginning 68 years ago when Robert Glier returned from WWII and was like, "I've got an old brewery I can use to make something delicious." Okay, he might not have said those exact words, but in my dreamlike mind as a food entrepreneur, I'd like to imagine his venture into this comestible was as simple as the recipe itself.
Goetta is so well loved and celebrated here in Covington that there's an annual Goettafest (I'm starting to think there's a festival for everything Cincinnati food/drink based, which is totally a-okay in my books and social calendar). Goettafest is held in August (this year from the 7th-10th for any of our out-of-town friends and family who wish to visit and eat the hell out of some goetta) this year and includes a boat load of activities like corn hole (another big-time Cincinnati past time), face painting, live music, belly dancers (performed by goetta-eating belly dancers, I hope) and of course, the opportunity to eat, eat, eat!
Needless to say, I'm stoked...doubly so, for finding a new dish here that I love so much. I'll admit, after leaving Portland and it's copious offerings of charcuterie, vegan cupcakes, pork belly, cheap and delicious Mexican food, etc. I thought it'd be impossible to find ANYTHING that I love here.
Alas, I was wrong. Thank goodness for that.
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