Scarlett Letters

I am an unrepentant carnivore. (Well, sometimes I repent, but not enough to stop.) I am in Portland, Oregon this weekend, visiting with all my best beloveds here in town. Last night a subset of that group went to dinner at Brazil Grill, a Brazilian steakhouse that gives new meaning to "all you can eat" because it's very, very good indeed, and you want to eat more not because you can but because it's all so delicious you can't help yourself.

We were seated at our table promptly upon arrival. A server gave us the rundown: we can go get salad at the salad bar. And then he pointed out a red coaster on the table. He told us that when we were ready for meat, we should turn it over; the other side is green. As daviddlevine put it, that turns on the meat spigot. Servers come by with swords pierced through queues of meat of many different kinds and preparations. They will slice off as much or as little as you'd like. When we returned from the salad bar, we found garlic rolls and fried polenta sticks on the table. And then the meat started coming: tri-tip beef, mustard beef, bacon-wrapped filet, linguica, shrimp, ham, chicken hearts, chicken legs, chili-lime pork. And it went on from there. Truly, it was remarkable and all very well prepared. And the meat stops coming only when you turn the coaster to red again.

Toward the latter part of the meal, they asked us if we would help them reorganize tables a bit because they had a large group come in. For our trouble, they treated us to dessert. I had the Brazilian chocolate cake, which may be the Platonic ideal of chocolate cake.

The only complaint I might have is that I thought the wine list was somewhat limited. (You can see it on the website.) Nevertheless, we had a delicious red Coppola Cabernet Sauvignon that complimented the meal well.

If you're in Portland and you have the chance, I recommend Brazil Grill without reservation (except that having a reservation will be a good idea). Don't eat too much earlier in the day; you'll want to try everything on offer. It's completely worth it.

Sunday was about breakfast and shopping.

We started the day at Slappy Cakes, a Portland restaurant where the tables have griddles set into their surfaces and where patrons can, if they choose, make their own pancakes. It was part of the JayCon weekend festivities, so we were there with a delightful crowd, many of whom I hadn't seen on Saturday, though they were, in fact, at Flying Pie for the party, including fjm in from the UK. Jay's Niece made confidently knowledgeable recommendations about the pancake add-ins and toppings I should try. I had a moment of "Wow, this kid is poised," and then remembered the gene pool from which she sprang--no surprises there, just delightful confirmation of how nature and nurture combine. My pancake concoction included a buttermilk batter, bacon, and hazelnuts, with a dab of nutella and a little maple-flavored syrup. (The attendant forgot to bring the apples I'd hoped to include.) The sweet-and-savory thing wins again. The attendant gave me so much nutella (and charged so much for it) that I took home leftovers and had a little bit this morning on a rice cake. All delicious, and the visiting with everyone was quite fine. Spent a little more time with Jay though, as I said yesterday, it wasn't nearly enough because time with friends is never enough. But I'm glad we went. Breakfast was delish and the company even more so.

Here are lillypond, davidlevine and kateyule at breakfast. David demonstrated pancake prep technique with great focus and seriousness. I am proud to point out that the lovely golden brown pancake on the griddle was one of mine.


fjm photographs lillypond:


And here's the guest of honor, bright eyed and bushy-faced, with the impressively articulate Niece in the foreground:


After the meal, davidlevine, kateyule and I went to the mall, there to refurbish David's wardrobe, now that he's discovered that he ought to be wearing men's slim-cut shirts, him being more-or-less the definition of slim. We had some success in the endeavor. I got a pair of leggings and an adorable top at Forever 21, of all places (and for cheap, too). Sadly, we didn't have that kind of success for Kate, though I am determined to do so on the next visit, one way or the other.

And then I was off to the train for the ride home. I passed out almost as soon as the train began to move and slept for about an hour. Spent the rest of the trip reading and playing Ticket To Ride on my iPad. Very recursive.

Spent the evening with ironymaiden, C and E catching up on the most recent season of Doctor Who. It was so good to see my Seattle people. As for Who, the last couple of seasons just really haven't grabbed me. Sure, they're entertaining and all, but I haven't felt compelled to watch nor particularly attached to the characters. It's just fun adventure TV now. We have three episodes left of the season to watch so no spoilers please.

It was nice to come home to my space and my cats, even though it was rather later than I'd originally intended. Both of the kitties wanted attention, which they received. And now, it's time for me to swing into the work week. I wish i had a day of recovery before diving back into the thick of things.

In my last post, I mentioned that this past weekend I'd received news of a death. The death in question was that of my brother's best friend's wife. While this may seem like a distant connection, it's closer than you may think for reasons that will become clear.( Cut for flist mercy and for cancer and triggery stuff )

I've been thinking about changing my reading habits in the morning. I read LJ at the start of each day, but I'm beginning to think that the things I'm reading in the morning are opening up wounds that never really heal for me and it's beginning to feel like I'm slicing myself to pieces bit by bit. I once had a therapist tell me that I have all the symptoms of PTSD when I talk about my mother's death; I never took it seriously until I was treated for PTSD, a treatment that I have had to acknowledge hasn't stuck mainly due to repeated exposure to new trauma. About the Boston marathon bombing news, suricattus posted on Twitter, "Reminder: if you're feeling echoes of past Bad Stuff, reading the news out of Boston, it's ok to look away. You're not letting anyone down." I'm feeling echoes of Bad Stuff. I may look away for a while. It's not a lack of love or strength. It's a matter of self-preservation.

PS--I don't want condolences upon Nancy's death; I'm serious about this. While her loss is painful, I didn't know her well. I'm mourning more for what her husband and family, and my brother are experiencing because I'm empathetic to their experience. And I'm dealing with the cascade of stuff that's been triggered by her death, especially in the context I've described above. I wrote about all this mainly because it's a way to start addressing it. We deal with things one day, and one word, at a time.

Left for Portland at about 10:30 Friday morning and had excellent weather for the drive. By noon I was in Centralia, where I stopped to pick up a couple of things at the outlet mall (which, I have decided, does not actually offer much in the way of bargains but is still, somehow, fun) and lunch. I picked up pajamas of the correct size (all of mine are three sizes too big), tights of the proper size (so I can wear skirts this winter), a sweater, and a couple of other incidentals. I then proceeded on to Portland, arriving at davidlevine and kateyule's place exactly when I'd planned to.

We had a wonderful dinner at The Picnic House where I enjoyed a delicious cup of roasted tomato soup, a pear, cheese and walnut salad, and a roasted portabello mushroom-and-vegetable thing. It made me remember how much I like portabellos and that while it's awesome to stir fry them with garlic and chicken with a dash of balsamic over rice, I need to branch out and experiment a bit more. But I digress. We ate at the bar because the place was a little busy, and were watched by a bear wearing a bowler hat and steampunk monocle. We were entertained.

The core of the evening's entertainment was a concert: the Indigo Girls accompanied by the Portland Symphony Orchestra. I haven't seen them live in years; I think the last time I saw them was with oldmangrumpus at the pier in Seattle, which tells you how long ago it was (there haven't been concerts at the pier in years). This show was great; the symphony added a richness to the music that was delicious to my ears, and I got to hear Amy and Emily perform several favorites that made me want to go back and listen to discs I haven't played in ages. It occurred to me, as I sat there, that I've been listening to the Indigo Girls much of my adult life, and that it's part of my personal soundtrack, like the Beatles, Melissa Etheridge, Yes, and some particular others. It was a weirdly melancholy thought and I'm still parsing my emotional experience of it. I may write more about it another time.

Saturday we were up a little earlier than I think any of us preferred for a Saturday, but it just kind of worked out that way. We had breakfast and then headed out for a lecture at the Architectural Heritage Society about the architecture of retail, specifically about the Meier & Frank building here in Portland. While the talk had its deficits (the speaker was of the "read you every PowerPoint slide" variety--bleh--and though specifically stating he wasn't going to talk about the company's history, did so in some detail that actually diverted the discussion a bit), it was still an interesting talk about the early history of department store retail in America, thought provoking from the point of view of a consumer, and added some interesting perspective to my department store experiences in Nagoya and Paris. I may write more about that, too, at some point.

After a tasty and filling Lebanese lunch, we spent some time strolling the Saturday Market. My goal was to try to find some holiday gifts, but I rather failed. It wasn't that there weren't interesting items available--the Saturday Market always offers cool, interesting, artsy stuff. I just wasn't finding anything that resonated in particular for the people for whom I was shopping. The search will continue.

The day ended with a dinner out and seeing "Cloud Atlas," which we all thought was flawed but worth seeing nevertheless for the performances. In case you haven't heard, the film takes place in a series of eras throughout history, each era connected by music, story, and legend, and each group of characters played by the same ensemble of actors. My thoughts about the film follow in no particular order: Tom Hanks performs best when not hampered by substantial facial prosthetics; I suspect the sensation of the material on his face interferes with his ability to disconnect from the physical present to be emotionally present with his characters. Susan Sarandon is beautiful no matter how little or how much make up you put on her. Hugo Weaving was at his best in this film in his role as Old Georgie, a kind of devil figure for the Hanks character in the far future, compelling and creepy and marvelous. I think I liked the far future stories in this film best of the bunch, even with their familiar tropes; somehow all the performances in those portions of the film worked better for me than the others though I thought each had its virtues. It's an interesting film, an interesting approach, and I'm genuinely curious about the book now, to see how the film stands up to the original material.

Today, we've got museum-going on the docket, and then I'll be heading north again. The weekend has flown and I've enjoyed myself enormously so far. Wish I had Monday here, too.