Long Weekend in Santa Fe

Ann and I are just back from our first visit to Santa Fe, a three-day weekend in the beautiful small town that is the capital of the state of New Mexico.

Ever since we first met Rob and Dyce, two days after they had relocated to Bend from Santa Fe, they have consistently mentioned that we needed to visit Santa Fe, their former home of ten years. At about 90,000 residents, Santa Fe is just a bit smaller than Bend. Back in the spring of this year, we all decided to visit Santa Fe for a few days during the holiday season to see the town all decorated. In the early fall, we set the date for the first weekend in December. Ann and I planned to fly in Thursday and out Monday, leaving us a nice long weekend in Santa Fe. Rob and Dyce had come in from Boulder a couple days prior.

Ann has never been to New Mexico before and was excitedly looking forward to crossing it off the list of states that she has never visited. I’ve been a few times but not recently. My last trip to the Land of Enchantment was a gig at Sandia National Labs in the mid-to-late 80s. I no longer can clearly fix that visit to a firm date in my mind. Prior to that, I had hiked a fair amount in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the southernmost extension of the Rocky Mountain chain. So while I have spent time in and near Albuquerque and in far northeast New Mexico, I have never been to Santa Fe.

I have a fondness for the Sangre de Cristos: those mountains are where I, as a young man from the East, first encountered the Ponderosa Pines that are so familiar to us in Bend and all over the West. I had never seen anything like them. I marveled then and I still marvel now at how they form open savannas of widely spaced trees with underlying grasses and shrubs.

Early December in Central Oregon is not a time that is conducive to air travel. It is our season for freezing fog and no carrier will fly their planes in or out of that icy mess. Nobody wants to stall because of ice build-up on the wings. We watched the weather anxiously as flights were cancelled Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings. If the planes cannot land at our airport the night before, they will not be here for flights out the following morning.

Rime from Freezing Fog

It will come as no surprise then that Wednesday night at 8:00pm, we got a message that our was flight cancelled for Thursday morning. Anticipating this, I had already looked at flight availability out of PDX the next day, so that when we finally got a callback from an Alaska agent, Ashley in Boise, we were able to get her to look into a 14:46 flight out of PDX to ABQ. Ashley was fantastic in getting us rebooked.

Naturally, rebooking to another airport has its own set of ripple effects. We had to move our return flight to Portland as well, because our car would be there, sitting in the long term garage. And because our rebooked flight would be getting in very late to Portland, we booked a hotel there rather than risk driving over the Cascades in the dark of night. Finally, I canceled our car shuttle service to and from the local airport.

Sadly and despite my best attempt to prevent a shuttle from showing up at the house unnecessarily, a shuttle driver texted me the next morning at 7:07 from the curb outside the house. Nobody can say that I did not try. I felt truly bad for the driver; it was not his or her fault that the dispatcher messed up.

We did not plan to leave for PDX until 8:30 or 9:00, depending on weather conditions outside. The later in the day, the better the roads through the Cascades were likely to be. It was super foggy when I got up, but that had largely burned off by the time we got underway towards PDX at 8:30. As we headed through the neighborhood to fill up on gas, we marveled at the winter wonderland around us. Every single tree and every single surface was covered in beautiful and delicate crystalline ice as if a giant had sprayed our entire world with massive cans of spray snow.

Even though the fog had cleared in south Bend, as we drove north, we could see the fog bank on the horizon and the sunlight faded with each mile north. Just north of Bend, we entered the fog bank and could barely see the airport exit in Redmond when we passed it. The drive north, albeit foggy, was spectacularly beautiful. Every surface was covered in feathery rime.

The roads were largely clear except for a few miles just on the outskirts of Redmond where there was a little snow on the travel lanes. The weather forecast was for cold and foggy on our side of the Cascades, but for sun and blue skies on the west side of the mountains in the Willamette Valley where the airport sits. Look at the following photos taken just 11 minutes apart as we were climbing up the Cascades near Mount Hood.

Clouds and Fog Starting up into the Cascades

Eleven Minutes Later, Bluebird Day at Mount Hood

It's always a pleasure to see Mount Hood, but today it was particularly beautiful in the sunshine, gleaming with its huge cover of snow. We found it positively mild at the rest stop just before Timberline Lodge, compared to 21 degrees at home. The run to the airport through Clackamas County was about as drama free as it could be, including no back ups on I-84.

We arrived at the airport just before noon and found parking easily. We did not expect to breeze through security to our gate, but it took only 15 minutes from the parking garage through security. Having plenty of time on our hands, not having had any breakfast, and with no prospects of food until late in the evening, we went in search of some grub, hoping to get a sandwich at Lardo. Unfortunately, no longer living in Portlandia, we missed the memo about Lardo, a favorite sandwich shop, closing. Sadly, we opted for lunch in some generic airport bar near our gate. The food was terrible.

Back at the gate, I was eyeballing the crowd gathering for our flight. I made a mental note of the two worst passengers that I hoped would not be seated near us. The first was an obese woman who would not shut up, yammering on with volume at 11, Spinal Tap style. The second was a special needs girl in a wheel chair who screamed piercingly and frequently.

As we boarded in the last boarding group (thanks to our rebooked flight), I was displeased to see both of them seated in the row in front of us. The large woman was relatively quieter on the plane, eating for the duration of the 2-1/2 hour flight.

On the other hand, the little girl screamed a lot. She did not appear to be verbal, so I imagine that screaming is the only way she can communicate. I felt horrible for the mom. Ann and I would only have to put up with the screaming for the duration of the flight. The poor mother never gets a break from it. Ann summed it up, "That poor woman has a hell of a cross to bear." The mom spoke no English, only Spanish. At one point, she used Google Translate to ask the flight attendant to tell us she was sorry. My kitchen Spanish does not extend to consoling someone with a cranky special needs kid, but at least I could assure her that we were not mad. Poor woman. I feel so bad for her.

The Moon, Venus, and Sunset at 30,000 Feet over Utah

Now during the shortest days of our year, we enjoyed a fantastic sunset as we were headed over Utah into ABQ. We had already received some photos of glorious sunsets in Santa Fe from Rob and Dyce and this sight out the airplane window only whetted our appetite to see more, which we would on Sunday night.

The guys met us at the airport in Albuquerque; Santa Fe is on the short list of US capital cities without a major airport, such as Dover and Annapolis. We made the run up I-25 to Santa Fe in a hurry to get to a restaurant before closing. They had planned to take us to a favorite Santa Fe restaurant, La Choza, back when we were arriving in the mid-afternoon. Our rebooked flight arriving at dinner time put that plan in jeopardy given the one-hour ride back to Santa Fe.

We needn't have worried. Although we were the last table at the restaurant, we were on a short wait to get a table when we arrived at 8:15 or so at La Choza, an unpretentious restaurant with a classic New Mexican menu. I have always loved New Mexican food, especially the more northern style featuring a lot of Chimayo chile (as opposed to the more southern style down in Las Cruces). I promised myself to order as much New Mexican food as possible while we were in New Mexico.

I'm the Nut with the Cell Phone in the Mirror

Rob's Quesadilla

My Pork Burrito with Green Chile

I ordered a burrito filled with rice, beans, and pork adovada topped with green chile. My take on chile is this: red for beef, green for everything else, Christmas never. Ann is going to Christmas it up any chance she gets. Me, I love the complex herbaceousness of a good green chile sauce. In comparison, red seems a bit one-note, though I make plenty of it myself.

My first bite of the green sauce on my burrito answered my question if they like spice at this restaurant. Why, yes they do! The chile was delightfully spicy; "live" is the word I used to describe it. Finally, spice without apology! Our server said this year's chiles are on the spicy end of the spectrum.

I must say that this burrito went a long way towards satisfying my itch for New Mexican food. Also, I am a posole fiend and was happy to see a small pile of that cooked nixtamalized corn on my plate as a side dish. I have only seen this in New Mexico. In Mexico, posole is most often served in a bowl by itself as a guisado, a stew. Good on La Choza!

La Choza offers a choice of sopaipillas or garlic bread with dinner or after dinner. Sopaipillas are a fried pastry à la pizza fritta, gnocchi fritti, beignets, poori, or crescentine, basically fried pie crust of which pretty much every culture has a version. Some people eat them as bread or fill them with savory foods, but I would say that the vast majority of people bite the corner off of them, squeeze honey into them, and eat them for dessert.

Sopaipillas bring back great boyhood memories for me. After having learned how to make them as a teenager in New Mexico, I used to make them with my friend Mark on our camping trips in Alabama when we were able to bring along a dutch oven and oil (lard is the best) enough to fry the dough. Those were good times. And times when I could eat anything I wanted thanks to a teenage metabolism!

I totally enjoyed my experience at La Choza as we all did. After dinner, we headed to our house in the hills just north and slightly east of downtown. Because it was pitch black, I couldn't really appreciate anything about the house or the neighborhood or even Santa Fe itself. But once inside, I did appreciate the nicely appointed Pueblo Revival house and especially the gas fire in the kiva, the corner fireplace.

Welcome Warm Fire in the Kiva

The story of our fantastic long weekend with our great friends Rob and Dyce continues in separate posts:

Friday: Shopping Downtown

Friday Part 2: Friday Night on the Town
Saturday: Ghost Ranch and Dinner at the Pink Adobe

Sunday: Brunch, a Glorious Sunset, and Japanese Food

On Monday, after our splendid weekend in New Mexico thanks to wonderful hosts Rob and Dyce, we had to face going back home. I awoke about 15 minutes before sunup to coyotes howling. We don’t hear them at our house in Bend like we did in McMinnville, but they aren’t far away. Still, I love to hear these guys yip and yap.

We were facing a long layover today because in leaving Oregon, winter weather forced us to reroute our entire trip through Portland instead of Seattle. The rerouted return flight was several hours after our originally scheduled flight. Because we carpooled with Rob and Dyce who had to be at the airport by noon, we were facing a long wait in Albuquerque: our flight did not board until nearly 19:00.

On the drive in to Albuquerque, we looked for mustangs alongside I-25 to no avail. We did, however, have great views of the New Mexico landscape and of the Sandia Crest, views that we did not see on the way in because it was dark. We also had tantalizing views of the greenbelt and canyon around the Rio Grande River, but never a glimpse of water.

Before the airport, we stopped for gas and brunch in Albuquerque at Tin Can Alley, an indoor food court. From the parking lot, we had beautiful views of Sandia Peak in the background. We ended up waiting a few minutes for Cuban food at Guava Tree Sabor Latino. It was worth the wait. The guys assured us that these were cubanos worth eating. And they were so right. We enjoyed classic cubanos: the bread, mustard, cheese, ham, pork, and pickles were just as they should be. Delicious!

Arriving at Tin Can Alley

Waiting for Lunch in the Large Atrium

It Would be Hard to Find a Better Cubano

On the way to drop off the rental car, Rob and Dyce dropped us at noon at the departures curb where we said our goodbyes. We will not see them again until they move back to Bend from Boulder, hopefully in about six weeks. By 12:30 we were through security and at our gate in the very small terminal. We chose seats and set about whiling away the hours until our flight. We had the option of taking a Uber into Albuquerque but we were tired and it seemed more appropriate just to hole up at the airport even though that would be no fun.

Four hours later when we were just about out of our skulls with boredom, we went to the sports bar across from our gate to kill some more time and eat some dinner. We planned, on arriving at PDX, to go straight to our hotel and go to sleep without stopping to eat.

Our food was surprisingly good. I got a green chile burger and our bartender was kind enough to have the kitchen smother my fries in green chile. While the green chile was good, the red chile sauce on Ann's dinner was the best we had all trip. Go figure! Add that to my list of airport surprises: the best cubano ever at MIA and the best chile relleno at ABQ.

Final Green Chile of the Trip

Naturally, after waiting seven hours to board, we had to wait some more while the mechanics repaired a broken seat that was needed on the full flight. Once boarded, just ten or fifteen minutes late, I found the seats in the new Embraer 157 to be terribly uncomfortable.

We arrived at PDX more or less on time and got our car out of hock, arriving at our hotel at 22:00 where we proceeded to pass out. I slept surprisingly well for being in a hotel, especially one directly in the flight path of the primary runway with jet engines roaring all night long.

The original plan was to depart for home at 9:00 to give the road by Mount Hood a bit of time to thaw. But at 8:10, I was done being cooped up and proposed to Ann that we leave immediately and stop in Gresham for coffee. A quick search found Autumn Coffee Roasters in Gresham directly on our path home.

Fine Coffee, Fine Scone at Autumn Coffee in Gresham

We took our time with our drip coffee, which was pretty good. After coffee, we went around the block to highway 26/Powell Boulevard and headed east towards Mount Hood. We encountered a couple inches of fresh snow just as we were getting up to Mount Hood, especially in the section from Government Camp past Timberline Lodge.

Fresh Snow in the Cascades
Selfie in the Side View Mirror

Other than the new snow by Hood, the roads were reasonable with only about a 30-mile stretch of somewhat icy road. I am amazed at the number of drivers of four-wheel-drive vehicles that think that having four-wheel-drive is somehow going to help them on ice. We did not have any problems with traction, and I only felt the traction control system engage once as we moved out into the snow to pass a tandem UPS truck going up the mountain.

Driving east on Mount Hood Highway, it was gorgeous to see that big volcano in the early morning light silhouetted against the horizon. Once across the Cascades on the east side, it was unusual to be driving with Mount Hood in my rearview mirror and Mount Jefferson just over my right shoulder in my peripheral vision. That's a sight I could see every day!

And so ends the saga of our first visit to Santa Fe. Rob and Dyce, we are so grateful for your friendship and your hospitality. Thank you so much for showing us "your" Santa Fe! It was so much more meaningful than if we had just visited on our own.

Leg of Lamb

I've been looking for an excuse to cook a leg of lamb, but that's a lot of meat for two people, so I needed to wait for a group dinner to prepare one. I decided to cook one (the smallest leg that I could find) just recently when Ann invited Andreas and Michelle over for dinner, along with mutual friend Erika. 

Michelle, Ann, Erika, and Andreas

It Would Be Rude to Start Without Sparkling Wine
Crémant d'Alsace

It's Almost Thanksgiving!

Ann and I started coming up with ideas for a menu based around leg of lamb a few days beforehand. When I learned that Erika is a vegetarian, I wanted to make a side for the lamb that would stand in as a great vegetarian entrée. Given that I was thinking about a classic Italian marinade for the lamb, why not continue with the Italian theme, such as cannellini in the style of pasta fagioli? That's some classic, home-style comfort food and perfect for a cold, pre-Thanksgiving evening.

Ann wanted to make an appetizer too but we never did settle on anything. I thought I might make some small risotto cakes, but I heard her mention something about stuffed dates in her musings. And so I resolved that if I could find them at the store, I would bring them to her. Luckily, our store has a great selection of bulk foods including dates, so I bought some and a bit of sliced prosciutto. Below you see a photo of Ann's handywork, pitted dates stuffed with goat cheese, some wrapped in prosciutto and some not, roasted in a hot oven for about 10 minutes.

Prosciutto-Wrapped Dates Stuffed with Goat Cheese

Back to the leg of lamb. I wanted to roast a leg of lamb in part because I love it, in part because it is something that I cannot serve to every crowd (Dyce, I'm looking at you!), and in part because of the last two dinners with Michelle and Andreas. For those two dinners, Andreas wanted to see cooking in action for the first and for the second, I made a paella, which is pretty much the textbook à la minute dish, a dish that must be cooked actively just before serving.

What I really wanted was a menu that involved very little last minute cooking and that would let me socialize. I am no longer the chef who stays in the kitchen while the guests socialize and dine. When we invite people to our house, I would rather spend my time with them rather than in the kitchen, a 180-degree departure from my former life as a chef.

The leg of lamb I could butterfly (remove the bone and open up flat like a book) the day before and then marinate by placing it in a plastic bag with a mix of red wine, olive oil, and black pepper, with lots of both garlic and rosemary added for flavor. Then on the night of the dinner, all I would need to do would be to put it on a sheet tray in a hot oven until it reached 125F internal temperature, about 20-25 minutes. After it rested for 20 minutes, then I would slice it, a simple thing that would not take me away from guests. Moreover, I would precook the beans in the afternoon and then while the lamb was resting on the stove top, I could put the beans into the oven to reheat.

Roasted, Butterflied Leg of Lamb

The cannellini beans could not be simpler to make and are exactly what I make for pasta fagioli except they have no pancetta (to remain vegetarian) and no pasta (so to remain gluten-free). I started with a soffritto of leeks, carrots, and celery that I sweated in olive oil in an oven-proof pan with a lot of garlic and fresh rosemary. Once the vegetables were soft, I added a couple tablespoons of doppio concentrato tomato paste to a bare spot in the middle of the pan. After the tomato paste caramelized a bit, I deglazed with a slug of white wine, scraping all the brown bits off the bottom of the pan.

Next I added a bit of dried basil and a bunch of stemmed and sliced cavolo nero (Tuscan black kale, easily my favorite kale) along with a bit of water and about five pounds of pre-cooked beans. I let everything simmer for about twenty minutes to bring all the flavors together. Just as the lamb was coming out of the oven, I put a low flame under the beans and drizzled them with great Tuscan olive oil and freshly grated pecorino romano. Into the hot oven they went while the lamb was resting to get warm and delicious.

Cannellini in the Style of Pasta Fagioli

Erika Brought Beautiful Flowers

Do you know the best thing about leftover leg of lamb? It slices beautifully and makes the best sandwiches, such as the open-face cheesesteaks below. To make them, I sliced the lamb thinly, sliced and wilted an onion, and sliced a block of Tallegio cheese. The bread, I drizzled with olive oil and browned under the broiler and then topped with lamb, onions, and cheese. Into a moderate oven for 10-15 minutes they went to melt the cheese and warm the cold lamb through. Delicious and a great reason to roast a butterflied leg of lamb.

Open-Face Cheesesteak: Lamb, Onions, and Tallegio

Lament for a Sandwich

In rereading the words I wrote below, I'm not sure that the title word "lament" is exactly correct. It may be that the more precise word might be "rant" though that word implies some amount of anger. I don't feel anger, but rather sadness, so perhaps I am lamenting after all.

A good sandwich, that most simple and pleasing of foods, is in my experience apparently a difficult thing to find, maybe not unicorn rare, but only slightly more commonly found. A sandwich is such a simple creation that it should be possible to find a good one almost anywhere. Not so, at least in our part of the world. Ann and I, we've given up on finding a reliably decent sandwich in Bend, Oregon.

As far as we have tasted, there are no outstanding delis or sandwich shops here in town. At least, the ones we have tried have left us wanting for the quality of sandwich that we expect. Clearly, we are in the minority in town, because time and again, acquaintances and web reviewers alike recommend to us the same places and while some are better than others, not a one of them is demonstrably a paragon of sandwich-making.

Maybe the simplicity of a sandwich is its downfall. After all, in a dish with very few ingredients, each must shine: there is no room to hide subpar ingredients or technique. A great sandwich really comes down to just two things, two very simple things: attention to detail in sourcing excellent ingredients and attention to detail in preparing them in a caring manner.

Entire Loaf Italian Cold Cut Sandwich, Feeds 4-6 People

What's really amazing and saddening to us is that creating a great sandwich is really easy to do. That is, we do it at home. Out of necessity, sadly. And if we can do it at home, certainly sandwich shops can do it as well, if not better than we can.

The really sad aspect of this dearth of great sandwiches is that delis and restaurants have all the advantages over us home cooks when it comes to making great sandwiches. They have access to great quality breads or even can make their own. They don't have to rely on pre-packaged deli meats, instead being able to slice their meats as needed or for the day. Some places even cure some of their own meats: I used to make my own pastrami at my restaurant, from first class meat and spiced the way I like it. Clear advantage to the deli over the home cook.

What I, as a retired chef, don't understand is why restaurants will not put the effort in to make a great sandwich. Is it because in a tourist town they have all the business they can handle? Is it because they don't care? Or is it because they are ignorant about what makes a great sandwich? Is it because a sandwich is too pedestrian to put effort into? Maybe the feeling is if customers don't care enough, a mediocre product is just fine?

Or is it because they don't think they can put out a top-quality product and still make a profit? As a restaurateur, I can certainly understand the last question, but being retired from the business, I no longer have a handle on the food, rent, insurance, licensing, and labor costs that drive the profit equation. But my restaurant consultant gut tells me that this is not the case: a great sandwich can be a profitable offering and a top-quality sandwich will drive volume sales.

To illustrate the care necessary to make a great sandwich, let's walk through making an outstanding Italian cold cut sandwich. It's not inexpensive to make, but it is what I expect, not the very lame examples that I have had at several places all over town.

A Single Serving

Select Great Bread. For a sandwich, select a loaf with a nice crisp crust and a soft, airy crumb. The crust cannot be so thick or so crunchy that it is hard to eat, however, or the bread so dense that the bread to filling ratio is off. I would love to be able to find such bread in single sandwich portions, but no longer being in the trade, I cannot. But I can still find great large loaves, thus, I make one large sandwich from an entire loaf and slice individual portions from it. Shout out to the Village Baker whose Italian-style striata loaf is one of the very best in town.

Source Top Quality Cold Cuts. I really like a good mix of flavors and textures and I find that four different types of cold cuts is just about perfect. I like the mix that I used for this sandwich: silky prosciutto di Parma, unctuous mortadella, smoky bresaola, and for the soppressata, I really like a spicy Calabrese. Great meats are not cheap, but you don't need a lot to make a great sandwich.

Select a Great Cheese. While I like provolone, a nice aged and dry one, I really adore thinly sliced fresh mozzarella on an Italian cold cut sandwich. An 8-ounce ball of good fresh cow's milk mozzarella  sliced very thinly is plenty for this whole-loaf sandwich. I would save the expensive and decadent bufala for something other than a sandwich.

Other Garnishes. For me, I like one of either fresh tomato slices or roasted red peppers. Both would make the sandwich too sloppy for my liking. We usually end up with roasted red peppers because tomatoes are rarely in season in Oregon and let's face it, Oregon does not grow as good tomatoes as hotter climates with long growing seasons. Furthermore, shipping ripe tomatoes from such locales is a losing proposition; great tomatoes do not travel. In my book, it is better to omit tomatoes than to use sub-par tomatoes, something that is lost on most restaurants. Also mandatory for me are a great leaf lettuce, thinly sliced red onions, and if available, fresh basil leaves.

Prep the Red Onions. Onion is critical for an Italian cold cut sandwich. Not only does it offer a slightly crunchy texture, its real purpose is to supply a bit of acidity to balance the fat of the cold cuts and cheese. Slice a red onion into very thin rings. If you don't have the knife skills for this, use a benriner slicer. Rub the onions gently in your hands with a bit of Kosher salt and place them in a non-reactive bowl. Cover with water and let stand five minutes. Drain off the water and cover them again for another five minutes. Squeeze out the water and the onions are ready for use. This process tones down some of the very aggressive onion qualities and makes them sweeter and much more palatable on a sandwich.

Prep a Tangy Dressing. A good vinegary dressing is essential to help counterbalance the fat of the meats and cheese. It's not possible to make a good Italian cold cut sandwich of the quality that I demand without making a decent dressing, which is neither hard, nor time consuming. I start with a couple tablespoons of red wine vinegar in a bowl, to which I add a mashed filet of anchovy, a pinch of salt, a teaspoon of dried oregano, a half a teaspoon of dried basil, and a tiny dab of a good mustard. After whisking this together with a fork, I start adding about 6 tablespoons of great extra virgin olive oil dribble by dribble, bringing the dressing together with the fork.

Toast the Bread. After slicing the loaf in half, put it on a sheet tray and drizzle it lightly with a little extra virgin olive oil. Then it goes under the broiler (here is where I really miss having a commercial salamander) until it lightly browns around the edges with maybe a hint of browning in the center. You want the bread warm with crispy edges, but you don't really want to toast it hard as the next step is to put dressing on the bread and you want that dressing to soak in a bit, difficult to do if the bread is highly toasted.

Dress the Bread. Spoon the dressing over both halves of the bread and spread it lightly but evenly with the back of the spoon. You want fairly even coverage without soaking any part of the bread.

Build the Sandwich. Lay all the ingredients on the base of the loaf and then put the lid on. I built the sandwich thus: roasted red peppers, destemmed leaf lettuce, prosciutto, mortadella, calabrese, bresaola, fresh tender basil leaves, red onions, and then fresh mozzarella. Another area where many restaurants miss the mark: I think it is important to season the roasted red peppers (or tomatoes) and the mozzarella with a little salt and pepper while building the sandwich.

I know this is a lot of words about making a simple sandwich, but this is a good description of what is necessary to build a great sandwich. And none of it is difficult which leads me right back to the initial question. Why cannot we find a great sandwich in Bend?

Thoughts on a BLT

The way that we celebrate the first great tomatoes of the year has not changed since I was a child: making and devouring the fabled tomato sandwich. We look forward with extreme anticipation to the long-standing annual ritual of sandwiching juicy slabs of the first tomatoes between two slices of white bread slathered in mayonnaise. Just the thought of that first tomato sandwich of the year makes me drool.

In addition to drooling, there is something primal about the slurry of tomato juice and mayonnaise dribbling down your face while eating a perfect tomato sandwich. The mess is a defining part of the tomato sandwich rite; without the mess, it can't be a great sandwich.

An Amazing BLT

After the first few tomato sandwiches of the summer have scratched the tomato sandwich itch for us, we are ready to move on to the first BLT of the year. The BLT may be the simplest and best sandwich on the planet. The synthesis of firm white bread, juicy acidic umami-laden slabs of ripe tomato, silky fatty mayonnaise, smoky chewy salty strips of thick bacon, and sweet crisp lettuce forms a sandwich whose flavor and texture is light years ahead of the sum of its constituent parts.

The BLT's glory lies in its simplicity and it is a sandwich that begs not to be improved. Its downfall can also lie in its simplicity. Without the absolute best quality ingredients, the BLT can fail miserably.

In our three years out here in Oregon's Willamette Valley, we have learned much about flora and fauna, what can grow and what cannot, what the seasons are like, local customs and products, all things that were alien to us when we relocated from Virginia.

A key finding with respect to the ultimate tomato and BLT sandwiches: for the same reason that this is a world-class location in which to grow wine grapes, it is not so great for tomatoes. Those cool night temperatures that are so vital to preserving the acidity in wine grapes do not ripen tomatoes like we were used to on the East Coast where the night time temperatures rarely dip below the mid 60s.

Our night time cool temperatures surprise many people. Living here in the heart of wine country, wine tourism is huge business. We see our share of summer visitors from all over the US and the world, especially for the International Pinot Noir Celebration (IPNC) at the end of July every year (except of course in 2020, the totally unprecedented wild card year of our lives).

During high summer at the end of July, we are likely to have daytime temperatures into the 90s like much of the country, totally expected by our guests. That said, I cannot tell you how many IPNC visitors each summer resist our advice to pack a sweater. With our nighttime temperatures down into the 50s, they soon wish they had listened. No lie: yesterday morning we awoke to 47 degrees.

Those temperatures, while extremely pleasant for us, pose a problem for our tomatoes. Where in Virginia, we could reliably expect field-ripened tomatoes about the July 4th holiday, push that back another month out here. We are just now getting into tomato season in the second week of August. Moreover, while any fresh field-ripened tomato is a good tomato, our Oregon-grown tomatoes just do not have the depth of flavor that we are used to. Even though our tomatoes are not ideal, they are still good enough to be worth celebrating.

The other key finding about Oregon: Duke's mayonnaise is hardly to be found out here. Duke's is a bit more acidic and richer than other competitors and has been my go-to mayonnaise all my life, spent mainly in Virginia, with short stints in Maryland, Alabama, and Texas. A Virginian by birth and at heart, my allegiance has always been to the Duke's brand owned by the C.F. Sauer company of Richmond, Virginia. Their headquarters on Broad Street is a Richmond landmark. Alas, they have been acquired by a North Carolina company. Though such is the way of the world: Duke's was originally a Greenville, SC brand before Sauer bought it in the 1920s.

One final thought about mayonnaise. You would think that with my insistence on the best of ingredients for the perfect BLT, that I would make my own mayonnaise. And you're right. I can make better mayonnaise in my kitchen than I can buy. But that's not how a BLT is made. You have to make it with your brand so that you can throw shade at everyone who prefers another brand. And we'll not even mention those deplorables who favor Miracle Whip.

The Girls Do Oregon

I haven't had much time or will to update the blog for the past few months. Play time has been on hold: we're in a brand new house with zero landscaping and all my spare time is devoted to planning and planting the yard, which is coming along nicely. Last week was a welcome break to our yardwork routine: my daughters Lillie and Ellie came to visit us in Oregon, their first visit to Oregon and to the West Coast.

Unfortunately, their flight into PDX arrived at 10am, meaning we had to battle Portland rush hour traffic to get to the airport. We live about 38 miles as the crow flies from the airport and the drive took just over two hours. What a non-drive!

What do you do with first timers to Portland, especially young ladies who eat like they're starving all the time?

Day 1

Naturally, they wanted to go to Voodoo Doughnuts, so we drove back into downtown to the Voodoo Doughnuts just off 3rd and Burnside. At 11am, there wasn't much of a line. I'm not a doughnut fan at all, but the girls have always been and both of them got some concoction covered in Oreos, sugar on sugar. I didn't hear any complaints and the doughnuts disappeared pronto. My take is that Voodoo is more hype than substance, but they seemed happy.

Lillie Does Voodoo Doughnuts

While the girls were stuffing doughnuts in their faces, we walked up 3rd to Washington to the food cart pod there where I knew I wanted to eat at Stretch the Noodle, well known among food cart cognoscenti for their hand-stretched noodles. We walked right up and placed our order from the five-item menu, three dishes for the four of us, and we still had plenty of leftovers even after making pigs of ourselves at the shelf-table alongside the cart.

Stretching the Dough for Noodles

Although at 11:30am we could just walk right up and place our order at the window, there were several people on the sidewalk ahead of us who had already ordered. I would guess that it took about ten minutes for our order to be up. That gave Lillie plenty of time to tell us all about the medical school in Philadelphia to which she has been accepted and where she will start in July.

Chow Mian

We ordered our two noodle dishes spicy and spicy they were, almost too spicy for Ellie. You can see the healthy amount of chile oil on top of the noodle soup below. An equal amount is mixed in with the chow mian above. Chow mian means stir-fried noodles and as you can see in the photo above, ours was a fantastic mix of fresh vegetables and noodles, a far cry from the so-called chow mien that you see in Americanized Chinese restaurants.

La Mian

Noodles in soup is one of my favorite meals ever and this bowl did not disappoint me. The noodles are on the bottom with a deep beef broth and chunks of chuck ladled over. On top are cilantro, green onions, a healthy amount of chile oil, peanuts, and a pickled radish or mustard of some sort. La mian is the term for hand-pulled noodles but could also mean spicy noodles, and in this case, the noodles were righteously spicy. Isn't it wonderful to ask for something to be spicy and actually get it?

Pork and Shrimp Dumplings

The pork and shrimp dumpling were about as good as any I have had, doused in black vinegar, chile oil, and green onions. The food at Stretch the Noodle is stupid cheap and stupid delicious. Definitely a must-do when in Portland.

Lompoc Brewing

Leaving downtown Portland, we headed east across the Willamette River on the I-405 over to Lompoc Brewing in a pretty hip neighborhood over on N. Williams Avenue. And much to our good fortune, beers are $3 on Wednesdays, usually $5.50. Of all the gazillions of breweries in Portland, we chose Lompoc because they make one of Ann's favorite porters, Lomporter. I had a seasonal IPA called Straight Outta Lompton. Lillie had a red ale and Ellie, not much of a beer fan, ended up with a cider.

We made the trip back from Portland via 26 and 217 through the heart of Nike country to 99W and back to McMinnville, where we spent the afternoon on the porch. After I woke from a nap (I had been feeling poorly all day), the girls were way into our stash of Pinot Gris. There was much mirth and laughter on the porch as I rejoined them. Silly girls!

Dinner was a pot of pinto beans that I had put in the crock pot before we left for the airport in the morning and bed time was early, especially with the girls being on east coast time.

Day 2

Wednesday, given the less pretty weather forecast than Thursday, we opted for going to the coast and doing the Three Capes Scenic Loop, from Cape Meares in the north near Tillamook, passing Cape Lookout in the middle, to Cape Kiwanda in the south just at Pacific City.

We started the day with eggs at the house and then dropped in to the winery so that the girls could see the bottling line in action, it being day three of a marathon 4-day bottling stretch. For our road trip, we all got coffee at The Common Cup in Amity, before heading back over to highway 18 to the coast. The drive afforded the girls the chance to see what an agricultural area the Willamette Valley is: blueberry fields, hayfields, walnut orchards, filbert orchards, chestnut groves, and mile after mile of grass seed fields, this being the grass seed capital of the country.

The Three Co-Conspirators

We drove out to Grand Ronde where we encountered a bit of rain as we headed up into the Coastal Range and the Siuslaw National Forest where the girls really got a look at old growth forest for the first time. We picked up 101 at Hebo and headed north to Tillamook, turning due west on 1st St. and drove out to the Cape Meares Lighthouse.

Cape Meares Looking South

Posing in Front of Oceanside

The Very Calm Surf at Oceanside

Sitka Spruce Forest Meets the Pacific

Cliffs at Cape Meares

Looking Down to the Lighthouse

Distinctive Red and White Fresnel Lens

While the girls were looking about, I got a chance to look at some of the local vegetation.

Gaultheria shallon in Full Bloom

Hairy Manzanita, Arctostaphylos columbiana

Everywhere we looked, Cow Parsnip was in full bloom. Experts are divided about whether it is poisonous to humans. I am not going to be a guinea pig. I like the tableau of Equisetum (horse tail), Sitka spruce, Cow Parsnip, and Manroot in the photo below.

Cow Parsnip, Heracleum maximum

I had to double take walking along some of the cliffside paths as I saw what appeared to be cucumber or gourd vines clambering over the other foliage. I didn't quite recognize the foliage and I certainly didn't recognize the bloom, but the family heritage was unmistakable. It didn't take long with my wildflower guide to name these vines as Coastal Manroot, sometimes called Bitter Cucumber. They apparently have massive tuberous roots that resemble people and their appendages. Who knew?

Coastal Manroot, Marah oreganus

Roses Blooming in Profusion

Once we crossed the Coastal Range and entered west-side forest, every clearing and roadside was painted in long streaks of fuchsia Digitalis purpurea. The massive stands of them put those in my own garden to shame.

Digitalis purpurea

After viewing the lighthouse at Cape Meares, we backtracked through Oceanside and Netarts to Cape Lookout. We had thought to walk out to the point of the cape, but at 2.5 miles round trip, it didn't fit our time budget. I was also feeling very poorly. It's on our list to hike some day.

Cape Lookout Behind Us

Lone Fisherman

Three Arches Rocks and Cape Meares
in the Distance

Continuing our trek further south to Cape Kiwanda, the third of the three capes on our loop tour, we crossed through the dunes at Sand Lake, arriving quickly at Pacific City in dire need of both food and gas. Our plan had been to eat lunch at the flagship Pelican Brewing location in Pacific City. The brewpub is pretty much the first thing you come to on the beach in Pacific City, where we found about 8 school buses full of high schoolers from McMinnville High School on a last days of school field trip. Fortunately, they were packing up to leave when we arrived.

IPA? Why yes please!

Annie's Burger, Onion Rings, and Stout

Post Lunch Behind Pelican Brewing

Lillie was all excited to get her feet in the Pacific Ocean for the first time, so after lunch we headed out back of the brewery and walked down to Cape Kiwanda.

Haystack Rock in Pacific City

Goofing

Exploring at Low Tide

Annie Like a Kid Again

Cape Kiwanda

Cape Kiwanda Skyline

The Girls Had to Climb the Massive Dune

Up Top

Coming Back Down the Steep Dune Face

After finishing up playing on the beach and on the dunes, we headed back to the car to gas up and head back to McMinnville.

Day 3

Thursday was the girls' final day with us before heading back to Virginia. We wanted to show them a bit of McMinnville and hopefully take them up into the Dundee Hills where they could see Mount Hood. They had great views of it when they flew in on Tuesday and while we were in Portland, we were also able to show them Mount St. Helens and Mount Adams.

Our day started leisurely with breakfast at Community Plate, a local lunch and breakfast icon in downtown McMinnville. After breakfast, we wandered around downtown McMinnville and ultimately arrived at the Farmers Market, where we scored a few things, some strawberries and some sugar snaps.

Latte at Community Plate

Although the weather was less overcast on Thursday than on Wednesday, there wasn't much hope of seeing Mt. Hood as we headed up into the Dundee Hills. As we arrived at Red Ridge Farm and Durant Vineyards, it was clear that we would not see the big volcano some 70 miles due east of us at all, not even a glimpse. It's a shame; on a clear day, the snowcapped peak glows.

Chardonnay at Red Ridge Farm

Back at home, Lillie was begging me to make a risotto for dinner and I obliged with this very simple saffron and sugar snap version.

Saffron and Sugar Snap Risotto

Day 4

Friday was a slow morning as the girls got ready to go to the airport. We didn't need to leave until 10:30, so we missed the bulk of traffic and made it to PDX in good time. After our sad goodbyes, we were in need of solace, so we chose to visit Ecliptic Brewing in north Portland right near Lompoc. We chose it because they make Capella Porter, also one of Ann's favorites.

Juicy IPA

Beet and Goat Cheese Grilled Cheese

We watched Ronaldo score his third goal of the World Cup match to draw Portugal with Spain 3-all while we sampled Ecliptic beers and ate what would prove to be very good food for a brew pub, reminiscent of the great food we had at Snake River Brewing in Jackson Hole, WY. As a result, Ann has tasked me with replicating and bettering the beet and goat cheese grilled cheese that she ate.

So ends the saga of the girls making a joint trip to the west coast to see us. It may be a very long time until that happens again, now that med school is upon us.