Caffe Vita Arrives in Portland

Rumors have abounded for several years about Seattle-based Caffe Vita opening its first shop in Portland. This has apparently finally come to pass. Caffe Vita is essentially Seattle's answer to Stumptown Coffee Roasters. They don't place quite the same emphasis on single-origin espresso as Portland's pioneer of coffee's "third wave," but they roast a mean bean and serve an extremely high quality cup of joe, be it of the drip or espresso variety.

This is a good thing, right? Well... not entirely. Because it turns out that Caffe Vita's arrival comes at the expense of what has long been my favorite coffee shop on the Alberta strip, the Concordia Coffeehouse, seen in the photo above with its name sadly absent from the windows. I first ran across Concordia several years ago while studying for my Polysomnography board certification test. I spent the better part of two years with my nose in a book in pretty much every coffee shop in Portland, and Concordia was the one to which I consistently returned, despite the fact that I lived in SE at the time. The coffee was good, the atmosphere pleasantly downscale but not quite dingy. The owners and employees, some of whom I got to know by name, were friendly, skilled and unpretentious. Basically, Concordia was the one place in town which most reminded me of where I got my introduction to decent coffee -first as a customer and eventually as an employee- at Saginaw, Michigan's Red Eye Coffeehouse. There was one other reason I was drawn to Concordia, which I won't mention here, but let it suffice to say that it has to do with a particular policy which is unusual for coffee shops in Portland. Anybody who's familiar with the place will immediately know what I'm talking about.

I passed the Polysomnography exam about a year and a half ago, and my trips to the Concordia Coffehouse became less and less frequent, until I moved to NE last summer. It's not my regular place, as it's not in my immediate neighborhood; that honor goes to the Gold Rush Coffee Bar. But I've made a habit of heading over once every week or two to spend some time with a cup of coffee and a book. I did so today, and immediately noticed that the place had undergone a pretty significant renovation, not a bad thing when all is said and done. Then I noticed that the retail cabinet next to the bar had been entirely restocked with Caffe Vita merchandise, and assumed that they'd brought Caffe Vita on as their supplier (not unusual among PDX coffee shops; the Gold Rush gets their beans from CV as well). Then I noticed that the words "Concordia Coffeehouse" had been removed from the windows, and a twinge of dread came over me. I brought this up with one of the (previous) co-owners, and she confirmed for me that they had in fact sold the business, and while the Caffe Vita sign has yet to be installed, they are now the managers of Portland's first Caffe Vita location.

While I welcome Caffe Vita's entry into the local coffee landscape, I'm not going to lie to you... I'm more than a little bummed about this. Caffe Vita is a fine company. They run a small chain of great cafes in Seattle and Olympia, and provide top-notch beans to coffee shops and restaurants all over the northwest. And I don't for one second begrudge the owners their decision to sell the business (and thank God it wasn't to Starbucks!). But I will miss Concordia. So long as the aforementioned unusual policy remains in place, however, I'll keep going back.

Many thanks to Larry, Jason, Craig and all the rest whose names I never learned, for making this one of my favorite coffee spots in town. I wish you all the best of luck in the transition.

He Can Cook, But He Can't Spell...

Nor can he conduct himself in a diplomatic manner... I had an absolutely bizarre exchange with local chef/pig lover Morgan Brownlow on Facebook last night. Being a fan of his cooking, I sent him a friend request on a whim a few months ago, which he readily accepted. Which was cool, no biggie, I've got a handful of relatively well known people on there, they appreciate the attention, I guess... whatevs. Then last night, for some reason, totally out of the blue, in the comment section of a perfectly innocuous post I put up about eating carrot sticks and listening to music, Brownlow took issue with my pumpkin risotto. Apparently, "riso" (his word), "should always fall flat on the plate" (and if it doesnt [sic] than [sic] you are an idiot or a [sic] effing hack - his words) rather than be contained in a "ramikin" (his spelling). Wish I'd known that ten months ago when I made the damn stuff, which, by the way, was tasty enough to get me laid, but never mind that... He then went on to call into question the quality and execution of my "riso," even though he's never tasted it (and never will). And then, get this, he went *off-wall* and PM'ed me (bear in mind that this guy is a big wig in the Portland food scene, and I'm a nobody) to tell me a few other things, such as... "If you pick a fight over food be prepared" (I didn't, but was); "I make my money by busting my fucking ass" (no doubt); "I don't know who the fuck you are" (despite the fact that he accepted my friend request; but true enough, and he's not likely to anytime soon); "Just because you have a blog doesn't mean you know what the fuck you are talking about" (again, true enough) and "I'm a doc of pork and fucking food." (this was in reference to my having mentioned my work in the field of sleep medicine... apparently he assumed I'm a physician, which I'm not, and felt it appropriate to compare his line of work - butchering pigs - to that of those who spend eight or more years in medical school and then go on to save the lives of strangers). Oh, and when I responded to his hubris with a reference to Icarus, his response was... wait for it... "Fuck Icarus."

You heard it here first, folks: Morgan Brownlow is a doc of pork and fucking food.

How this guy even knew about my blog, which I've neglected for at least the past four months, I have no idea... And why he was up berating me at 3:00 in the morning, I can't quite work out either (I work graveyard, so I have an excuse). Perhaps he'd just gotten off work and had a few beers in him? Who knows... But I'll tell you this: Michael Hebb is looking a bit less douchebaggy this morning!

It's Indian, and it's green: Saag Aloo Murghi

"Saag Aloo" means spinach and potato curry, and "Murghi" means chicken. Spinach is a great vehicle for curry, as it pairs well with the spices and has a great deal of antioxidants and Omega 3s. And as the final product turns out pea-soup green, it looks kind of gross, which adds greatly to its appeal, if you ask me. I pulled the idea for this one from a recent on-line interaction, and looked to a recipe in a book I picked up not long ago called 660 Curries: The Gateway to Indian Cooking by Raghavan Iyer. I also found a saag recipe online, wound up averaging the two and made a few changes and additions of my own.

Ingredients:

2 lbs. of chicken (1/2 lb. pictured)
1 large red onion
6 cloves of garlic, minced
1 Tbsp minced ginger
1 Tbsp ground coriander
1 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1 1/2 tsp salt
8 oz. spinach, stems removed
1 bunch of watercress, stems removed
7 oz. coconut milk (about half a can)
7 oz. plain Greek style yogurt
3 oz. tomato paste
1 1/2 cups of water
3 small to medium potatoes, cubed (yellow, red or Yukon Gold)
8 oz. paneer,* cubed
1 small head of broccoli, chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped
Ghee, or canola oil and butter, for sauteeing

*or substitute any non-melting white cheese such as queso fresco

You probably want to see the mise on that... Here ya go:


Method:

Begin by cutting the chicken up into bite-sized chunks and sauteeing over medium-high heat in a large saute pan with a generous amount of ghee or oil and butter until it just begins to get some color (again, what you see here is a half pound of chicken, in a medium fry pan. When sauteeing two pounds, you'll want to do it in stages, as two pounds of chicken will be way too much for even the largest saute pan; the chicken will end up steaming instead of browning, which will compromise flavor development):


Set this aside, and clean out the pan. Saute the onion, with the spices, over medium heat until translucent, five to ten minutes. Add the garlic and ginger, turn the heat down to medium-low and continue to saute for another five minutes (here's that large saute pan I mentioned):


Add the salt, spinach and watercress to the pan, along with a half cup of water. Simmer for fifteen minutes. The spinach and watercress will fill the pan when you first add them, but as they simmer, they'll wilt and decrease greatly in volume:


Remove the pan from the heat, and allow to cool. Transfer the contents to a blender or food processor, add a half cup of water and puree. Set aside, and clean out the pan. Saute the potatoes over medium-high heat until they begin to get some color, about fifteen minutes. Add the paneer and let it get some color as well (stirring or shaking the pan occasionally), about another ten minutes:


Add the puree back to the pan, along with another half cup of water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and simmer for another ten minutes:


Add the coconut milk, yogurt, tomato paste, carrots and broccoli and continue to simmer, stirring occasionally, for another fifteen minutes (if it starts to look like it's getting a little too thick, you can add another half cup of water):


Add the chicken back to the pan during the last five minutes of simmering to bring it back up to temperature. Serve with some naan, roti or similar flatbread. Or serve it over rice, as I did (I like long grain brown rice, cooked with a mixture of chicken stock, water, butter and salt). This will serve about six. It's also a good recipe to do in advance and freeze in individual containers. If you do this, cook the chicken separately when you thaw and re-heat the saag.

Enjoy!

And defeat is mine...

I'm humbled to report, friends, that I have lost my title of chili champion. What I lost with is what you see above, the "Chilly Mary," my entry into this year's meat category. It's chili re-imagined as a cocktail, basically a chili flavored version of the bloody mary: Bacon infused vodka, tomato puree with a splash of pickle juice and worcestershire sauce, and chipotle syrup, shaken with ice and served in a martini glass rimmed with a mix of salt, cornmeal, oregano, cumin and smoked paprika and garnished with a cocktail onion and a square of bacon on the rim... An interesting concoction to be sure, but not enough to beat my good friend Matt, who won the contest handily this year with his latest iteration of chili pie (what won it for him this year, I believe, is that, with the help of his better half Shannon, he finally nailed his crust; built of butter, flour and cornmeal, it truly kicked ass). I wasn't able to fend off Matt's pie this year, but I did my best, starting with the martini glasses, rented from a local catering company:

The first step was to rim these glasses with the chili spice mixture:

Which led to the first rough draft of this project:

The final product, of course, fell short of winning, but was eagerly consumed by the crowd, as evidenced by the aftermath:

And now for some shots of my friends enjoying the evening:



Here's our gracious host, Greg (on the right; that's Ray Belt slouching on the left), getting ready to announce the winners...

This year's winner of the cornbread category, Kristy Orbitschkewitch:

And the meat champion himself, Matt Svaglic:

Here we see Tim Scott enjoying a frosty can of Hamm's (you PDXers will no doubt notice the sign and remember then 19 year old Jake Okenberg's run for mayor back in the early aughts...):

And here, just some of the mess to be cleaned up by Greg and Bonnie in the morning:

A good time was had by all, even the losers, for whom I am now qualified to speak. Thanks again, Greg and Bonnie, for putting on the eighth annual chili cook-off. Here's looking forward to the ninth, and more importantly (Greg...) the tenth...

Do You Love Your Farmer? I Do...

Well, not your farmer, mine... Anyway...

Laura and I have a subscription to a CSA called Happy Tortoise Farm, and normally our share is dropped off at the University of Portland, Laura's place of employment. This week, however, my better half is on Bainbridge Island, and it fell to me to pick up the veggies at the alternate drop-off spot on Alberta street. So I'm thinking, my farmer, Andrew, gets there at 4:30, I'll jump on the bike and make my way up there right as he's arriving and get first pick of the bounty. Which I did. Got all bundled up, mounted my fixie with its 48/18 gear ratio, and made my way, in nearly freezing temperatures, riding into the wind, uphill all the way (did I mention I ride a fixie, with a 48/18 gear ratio, and did I mention that such a gear ratio is not particularly suited to climbing [okay, so it's actually kind of a mellow gear ratio, I'm a bit of a candy ass; stop me before I sub-parentheticalize again...]?), to 16th and Alberta. Only to arrive at about 5:00 to find the pick up spot locked, dark and uninhabited. Shit. The pick-up must've been earlier in the day. I'm too late. So I make my way back home (downhill and with the wind to my back, thankfully), thinking I'd miscalculated and forfeited my veggies. Then, at about 6:45, I checked my e-mail and discovered that the pick-up was scheduled from 5:30 to 7:00. I had, ironically, gotten there too early, and didn't have time to make it back by 7:00. So I call Andrew and leave a message, thinking we might be able to meet up somewhere over the weekend for the veggie exchange. Long story short, he calls me back to say that I'm on his way home, and he can drop off the veggies, which you see above. It's an awful lot of trouble to go to for some veggies, to be sure, but how many people can claim such a relationship with the folks who grow their food?

This is why I love my farmer.

Essen und Trinken bei Prost!

The ugly one on the left is me. The so cute you could eat her with a spoon one on the right is Laura. The blurry, amorphous blob in front of us is someone else's boot shaped mug of beer...

I can't imagine a culinary tradition more appropriate to the onset of winter in the Pacific Northwest than that of Germany. This is not the season of microgreens, peas, basil or fiddleheads. Once the rains come, Northwesterners will, of course, still bike to work or don multiple layers for a drizzly hike in the Cascade range, but sooner or later we all go into hibernation mode, if only for brief, intermittent periods. This calls for a Netflix account, resignation to sky-high gas bills, and on those occasions when we do venture out, a certain kind of sustenance, one which might fairly be described as, well, a bit heavy: root vegetables; soups and pies made of squash and tree fruit; collard greens, cabbage, and anything pickled; meat, preferably of the porcine and/or smoked variety; and yes, dark beers of excessive alcohol content.

After witnessing the third round playoff bloodletting of the Virginia Tech women's soccer team by the University of Portland (it was like watching a pod of killer whales playfully tossing around a dead seal; Laura has season tickets), my better half and I met up with a few friends on Mississippi Avenue, at the recently opened Portland outpost of Seattle's Prost! I'd been meaning to head over to the place for a while, and fortunately, we were able to deflect our friends' suggestions of the Crow Bar or Amnesia Brewery and steered the crowd toward some German fare. Here's what we found...

Das ist ein Schwartzbier:

Ich prüfte das Braunschweiger, mit Brot und grüne Äpfel:

Und Laura aß das Landjäger mit Senf und Landbrot:

Na und, die Brezeln waren nicht so schlecht... All this is delivered amidst a most glückliches atmosphere and, if you get there early enough (we didn't), you can sample a variety of food carts in the adjoining parking lot, including a mexican cart run by Jesse Sandoval, former drummer of the Shins (that's another post in itself).

I give it fünf Sterne...

Interesting Stuff Going On in Ann Arbor...

This was brought to my attention by a friend from a past life in Michigan... A food salon! Sometimes, of course, you just want to space out while eating your breakfast, but for those times that you feel like mixing the most important meal of the day with a little thought, exchange of information, perhaps even a spirited debate over the various iterations of the systems that deliver plants and animals from the fields to our intestines, this looks like a good idea. Check it out. I'm sure something like this is happening in Portland...