Food Curiosities for the aging palate

In our first year in PDX, we discoved some of  the well known engaging things that have made living in Portland so different from New York--

the clear water bubblers on sidewalks,

bike racks on the front of public buses,

announcements of bus schedule under a sheltering roof,

the coffee room blackboard with changing quotations at Powell's Books.

As we've lived here longer, more of new food ideas have come our way. Some will be picked picked up on the other coast..like salty ICE CREAM, to which our first reaction was cautious interest followed by, "we like this!"

Salt & Straw's  first scoop shop is dangerously located across the street on Alberta from Close Knit where we often go on Wednesday nights for a knit circle.  (In less than ayear of business there's already a second S&S.)  What protects us: by nine at night, we draw the line at standing behind 10 people waiting for ice cream. 

Caught up in saltiness, I tried Woodblock Chocolate--$4 for small bar of cacao with fleur de sel.  Not good.  Liked typeface:  design over substance.  Far better, this is not a good thing, found the Starbucks dive into chocolate/coffee/salt advertised at Portland State. I like it and am relieved it will be out of sight with spring term about to end.  Pretty frivilous but my life can't be all politics, all the time.

Stinging neetles, just the name has a buzz to it--as in fairy tales where unrecognized princesses were required to knit sweaters from the harsh fiber-- were in the Portland Farmers Market in April.  Encouraged by Kathy of The Farmers Feast, I bought a package from her neighbor, Springwater Farms; much of the challenge of the stingers (enlarge the photo) is eased by their packaging tender shoots. Even so, city person that I am, should have used protective gloves as she advised.  It was a mild green taste that worked well with chickpeas and millett and in an omelet.

The neetle broth was a beautiful color.  I saved it with the thought of cooking something in it later.  After a couple of weeks in the fridge, it had turned darker, so I tossed it.

Again, I told Kathy who frowned, said it would have been fine to use.  Only excuse is that I did not have a cook for either a mother or stepmother.  Reading has worked well for me. But there are moments when my instincts and urbanish ways do not serve well.