End of semester cake

The holidays inevitably mean travel. Grading and travel. Activities which can be both rewarding and traumatic. So I reward myself heavily in airports.

Food1- read in numerical order for the most sense.

I keep talking about food, its freshness, and goodness. Free-range, organic, local. All these things make it taste so much better. When we buy processed food, we sacrifice so much taste for flavor, which manufacturers make up for with more salt, more sugar, and more additives. Yet, it still isn't as good. I can't believe what a joy it is to eat good food. It feels so clean, and tastes so rich.
This is the breakfast I made myself the other day. The eggs (very yellow, aren't they?) are free-range, bought from a farmer at a road-side market in Montana. The zucchini was from a food co-op in Billings, Montana. The onions were organic from Indiana. The coffee and soy milk are probably the most unknown sources.

Food 2

This morning, this was my meal.

So good. It is free-range beef from a specific ranch (as in, I know the name of the ranch) in Montana, bought from a food co-op. Left over zucchini from the same co-op, as well as whole wheat tortilla. The sauce is a Thai Curry Sauce from Trader Joe's, here in Portland. And the mint (that did amazing things with the curry) is from my friend's garden.

Food 3

This is the pizza I had in White Salmon, Washington, a restaurant that prides itself on local produce. It is a blue cheese, butternutt squash, and bacon pizza on a whole wheat crust. There's that yummy local beer, too!

Food 4

Dinner on the Nile (actually, I didn't catch her name)

Reconnecting

Passing through downtown Hood River, I saw a little shop that I just knew belonged to my long lost friend, Suzy. Even still, I almost left. I almost left the state after standing right on her doorstep and not taking a knock. But I didn't. I knocked. And she was as warm and welcoming as I remembered her, and insisted I follow her home and stay the evening with her and her husband. They bought a house in a remote corner of the valley, with a large meadow full of garden and chickens, and two teenage goat ladies, who rubbed their heads against my hands like my cats do.
I wish I could explain how warm and beautiful it was, how content I was, and entranced by these little food animals running around. The chickens laid brown, blue, green and white eggs, and they made a beautiful omelet the next morning.
Kvan insisted I take a basket of two dozen eggs, and he clipped greens out of his garden to send with me. I hated to go, and could see I was welcome to stay, but I was determined to get to Portland and the museums.The museums were a disappointment, mostly because I found navigating the city with the trailer so difficult. I dropped it off at a trailer park, and felt odd and bulky driving the car around, suddenly going too fast and breaking too hard, struggling to navigate and park. Finally, I decided Portland would be like New York City was for me--a place I would not be able to enjoy until my second trip. Accepting this, I returned to my trailer, stopping at Trader Joe's and now at Barnes and Noble (my 'hits' of big-box civilization). I have an early journey tomorrow to get up into the mountains, park my trailer, then 4WD to a remote hot springs for a Inipi Ceremony I am looking forward to. I will be out of Internet or phone range tomorrow. I will post as soon as I can.