Have you ever surprised someone? Have you ever flown to another city for no reason but to go to dinner and take a walk and shoot the shit? I did that yesterday. I flew to Portland in cahoots with a friend who lives there to surprise another friend who was coming into town (who promptly dubbed us wing-nuts). I highly recommend it. It’s ridiculous and impractical and absurd. And joyous and magical and life-affirming.
First we snarfed down take-out from Jarra’s Ethiopian Restaurant–an old favorite of ours from college that haunts our taste memories. It was just as good as ever. Just as good as we remember it. Maybe even better.
A few hours later we headed to Alberta Street Oyster Bar. Honestly? It wasn’t as good as when I was there two years ago and my poor hands are showing the effects of way too much salt in most of the dishes (ouch, my fingers hurt when I bend them). But we did slurp through a mess of plump Totten Inlet oysters with a brilliant cucumber-horseradish mignonette with glee and my cherry-infused bourbon Manhattan left nothing to be desired as I sipped through the welcome bits of ice floating on its dark, beaconing surface.
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