Dinner Dates

I have been eating some really amazing meals lately. A few of them I cooked on my own… but the last few weeks the dinners that stick out in my mind are my fancy dinners out with girlfriends.  The good food, the good company, the wine, the conversations… upon describing my foodie dates a friend of mine asked “are you sure you aren’t into chicks?” Yes T, I’m 100% sure I’m not a lesbian…(even in spite of that one somewhat sexy dream I had about Natalie Portman, I’m pretty sure just about every human has had that dream) but there is something about sharing a great conversation over a good meal that just resonates… romantic or no, my dinner dates have been fabulous, and just the grown up break I’ve needed out of puppyville.

  

A few weeks ago in Seattle a college friend and I indulged in a fancy dinner on the water… there were cocktails, wine, meat and cheese plates, seared, tuna, truffle mashed potatoes… melt in your mouth goodness. But that really stood out among all the food was the crispy pork belly. It was, in a word, perfection. You could tell because we both stopped talking, our eyes sort of rolled back, and we immediately slowed down to savor every last bite.  I will be thinking about that pork belly for a good long while.Seriously get the RILLAUDS!

Sunday night I finagled a speaking role at a Plate &Pitchfork dinner at Champoeg Farms. This meant, free wine, free dinner, and an extra ticket.  So I called up my friend Mari, and off we went to a dinner in a field, on a farm surrounded by chickens, turkeys, pigs, and open spaces. I didn’t bring my camera, and I didn’t actually get a copy of the menu, so I can’t tell you exactly what we had, and what order it came in. I can tell you there was a chilled corn soup with basil crème fraiche,  a grilled romaine salad wrapped in prosciutto. There was pork from the farm that was incredible, and couscous with Harissa… overall I wasn’t a huge fan of the dessert, but there was goat cheese rolled in berries, and strong strong coffee. The wine was delish, and once again the company was divine.

a really bad cell phone photo of the grilled romaine

Recently, my friend Beth, put together and organized the 100 mile diet challenge through the local slow food chapter. Last night was the celebratory dinner at a local eatery downtown. I grabbed my co-workers and headed out for a truly wonderful 100% local meal. The salad was fresh and crisp, the grits were creamy, the peaches were sweetened with honey. The pork was good (not as good as the other two mentioned pork dishes… but still good). 

Red Ridge Ladies at Community Plate

I’m so lucky to live in a place where fabulous restaurants can be found on every corner, good company is easy to find, and local ingredients are always on the forefront of everyone’s mind. I’m also lucky to live in an apartment with a garden, and a climate that supports a growing season! But more about my garden bounty and what I’ve been cooking another time.

Nap-time Multi-tasking

The last week has turned me into a super multi-tasker… not that I wasn’t before. I am constantly trying to do a million things at once, hardly ever sit down to eat (at least not when I’m home) and when I’m on the computer I have at least 4 different windows and applications open… and then I got a puppy. 

Life with Toby is great… but it really is like chasing a two year old around all the time.  I have no children, but after leaving Toby with my parents over the weekend on my 12 hour work days, they quickly informed me, that having Toby around was worse than having an infant. Probably because infants you diaper, and put in a crib, and they are completely immobile. Puppies on the other hand, are constantly moving, not house-trained, and put EVERYTHING in their mouths… there are no breaks, there are no “oh I’ll just go in the other room for a second”… but there are still messes, feedings, late night trips outside… So yeah… I’m feeling a little bit like a frazzled mommy. But we are working on it. I definetly am ready for a glass of wine in the evening, and I think it goes really well with training time. But already, I’ve had him a week, and he knows how to sit, lay down, shake, high-five, and we are still working on “leave it”.

That being said, I have learned that Nap-time is my window of opportunity… My opportunity to hang onto my sanity, and get some personal things done/ personal time.  Today I watered the plants, did laundry, harvested my garden, ran to the grocery store, did the dishes, answered work e-mails, made phone calls, ate lunch, made coffee, took some pictures, etc. all during naptime. Of course, by the time he wakes up, I’m pretty exhausted and feel like I too, need nap time… but we are working on our schedules.  Of course, right now, I’m frustrated because I have been waiting for my neighbors to take their stuff out of the community washing machine for the last 3 hours… and now that I finally have a window of opportunity, Toby just peed on his bed (not the one he really sleeps on, just the one he plays on)… guess I won’t be doing my dark load next… maybe during the next nap-time…

R and R

So I’ve had Toby home for roughly 30 hours… but this is not a blog about him… Though I am in full puppy parent obsession mode, I need some balance in my life, and I figure not everyone wants to read about the snudgy cuteness of bulldog…. All in due time.

I escaped to Seattle for a long weekend with my college roommate. It was so wonderful to get away, have real conversations, reminisce about old times, catch up on tv and celebrity gossip (they are re-making Dirty Dancing? Why god why, are we allowing this to happen? I respect the Havannah Nights prequel… in fact I may secretly like it better than the original… for different reasons. Don’t judge me… but don’t you think Patrick is rolling over in his grave just a little? ) We ate, we drank, we took in some baseball games… all in all it was the perfect weekend…

Yes, I was spooned/ smothered by a giant cat (he weighs 19 pounds… Toby only weighs 16) and I am no cat person, but I put up with the awkward nighttime encroachment, and I’m glad I did.  Wakefield didn’t get his 200^th win… but by god, there were garlic fries, and lots of them!  

Safeco field is one of my favorite places for awkward encounters. How many thousands of people does it seat, and yet some-how I always manage to run into someone I know. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. This trip, I made a point of meeting up with an ex from a million years ago. We are friend(ish) now, but its been a long road, filled with a variety of tensions… but what safer environment to meet up at? There are thousands of people, and the garlic fries alone are enough to make sure that regardless of any ulterior motives, nothing sexy will ever happen. (they are pretty much fool proof). I managed to get through the encounter with… well probably not grace, but it wasn’t awkward either. There was a moment, in which I spastically flailed my foot around trying to show off my tattoo… more spastic than awkward though… and we drank our beer, ate our garlic fries, talked about Toby, hugged, and went our separate ways.

nothing is quite as awkward as this photo though...

A more awkward encounter was when I was eating said garlic fries, with said ex, and ran into my old roommate’s husband’s parents. I have met them dozens of times, I have hosted them for Easter brunch, I even coordinated their son’s wedding… and still I got the “excuse me…. Did you go to Linfield?” Really I cannot be surprised about this…. I blame it on my homeschooling, but I seem to have a knack for blending into the woodwork. I get this in the wine industry all the time… I’ve been working in it for the past four years, and it doesn’t matter how many networking events I attend, and how many times I make an introduction, it doesn’t even matter if I’m behind the wine bar at my place of work…. People cannot seem to remember my face or who I work for…. I like to think that this would make me excellent as espionage. Forgettable face, ulterior motives (not really, I don’t have any… but seriously… for a person this awkward, I certainly don’t stand out in a sea of faces). It’s ok…. I have other talents.

It was the perfect pre-pet ownership getaway. I got to dress up, talk baseball, order fancy menu items, sleep in, lounge around, and indulge in cocktails, brunches, and excursions... Thanks for a great weekend!

Because Toby Needs a mustache toy.

Ok,

Not to go all “pet mom crazy” on you (it’s sort of where I am right now, you can deal with it) but there is this huge part of me that thinks I need a dog registry. I thought this was a humorous idea, until I realized there are actually some pretty terrifying websites out there that offer this very thing, and they are all for the high maintenance people who actually throw birthday parties for their dogs, and want their guests to bring the perfect gift (I’m not even kidding!) 

I would like to approach the registry from the direction of A) I do not want real children, and B) I am on a fixed income… and let’s face it, how is registering for a baby really that much different than registering for a dog? (my dog baby) You can ask your friends to buy you onesies, car seats, those weird diaper genie things, shoes a baby grows out of in like a day… and people do this glady. They throw you showers, and make finger foods, and play weird games, and they buy you lots of random stuff.  Not that I need a hand-out, but really, in the days where having children isn’t automatically the norm, why is it so ridiculous to think that having a pet registry is a terrible idea? How is putting money towards a kennel, or a Martha Stewart Pet bowl any different than forking out money for a stroller, or outfits for babies?  Just think about it.

Were I really to create a registry for Toby, here are a few things that would be on it.

Obviously he needs this mustache ball! Come on!

This Artichoke chew toy is perfect for the dog with a foodie owner. Also it gives the dog vitamins, and you can hide treats inside! And its cute. (they also have a strawberry & eggplant version)

Once again, a treat toy, and its perfect for a Dog who is a Red Sox Fan.
(the baseball, not the pug)

Love this Martha Stewart Bowl!  It has a lid, so you can travel with it! Perfect for the dog who will be packing a lunch to the office.

A baby-gate. Any kind would do.  (ok 2 baby gates) to keep him in the nook while I’m cooking dinner, or getting ready in the morning… I don’t want to put him in the crate all the time, but I also don’t want him to have free reign of my house.

A Kiddie Pool. It's August... and though in Oregon we are still waiting for the heat, I'm optimistic it will come. And I don't have AC, so Toby needs a pool. 

He already has a little Kong, but just like baby-shoes.... dogs outgrow their toys

Because, why would you not get your dog a Dental Dinosaur?

Countdown to Toby

One week from today, I am getting the first pet of my adult life. This is exciting and a little bit terrifying all at the same time. I’ve wanted a bulldog for as long as I can remember… but up until a few weeks ago is was just a far off fantasy. 

My family will tell you that I have been talking about “Toby” for years. When people first meet me, they read the tattoo on my foot, and then ask me what it is I plan to do with my one wild and precious life. The short answer is usually “write, and get a bulldog…. Named Toby” (I might not have all my goals and priorities lined up, but at least I know what my heart wants)  Where the name Toby came from, I’m really not sure, but somewhere in my heart, I knew that I was destined to have a bulldog son, and that his name would be Toby.  I’ve thought about him for quite some time, and have even carried around a Bulldog training book with me through 5 moves…(though along with the rest of my reference books, it was hardly ever picked up) When I moved into my current apartment I negotiated a Bulldog Clause into my lease (no Joke… I am allowed to have an English Bulldog but no other pets) just in case 2011 was the year Toby finally came into my life… and here he comes. I wasn’t even seriously looking for a dog, I just started toying around with the thought. Fall was fast approaching, and with it the end of wedding season, and I thought “hey this could be a good time to make this investment… I’ll have money saved up, and will be working less crazy hours” so I started looking around for litters that might be available in say October November. Naturally I found a litter that would be ready to come home on August 1^st, and my mind filled with panic and anxiety. “I am not ready for a Dog in August!” I told myself firmly. One look at my house, and it was confirmed, Tayler would not be anywhere near pet ready on August 1^st…. but for posterity sake, I put my name on a list for the breeder to contact me. (in my defense I thought there wouldn’t be dogs available anyway, and that she could put me in touch with other breeders, for a time down the road when my life was a little less chaotic and a little more dog proof)

And of course I didn’t hear from her, and didn’t hear from her but I wasn’t too concerned, because clearly I was in no place to get a dog anyway, and work was being hectic, and I was planning on going on two vacations, and things were not lining up, and I wasn’t even in the market for a dog really… etc etc. Until of course I got an e-mail with this picture,

and I was instantly smitten. Which of course I knew I would be. But it seemed like there was already a waiting list, and two of the puppies had some health issues, and it still didn’t seem like everything was falling into place, nor did I think I wanted it to fall into place.  Everyone I talked to said “whatever you do, don’t go visit, or you will come home with 2 puppies”  and I knew they were probably right, so instead I called the breeder, and talked asked her about 45 minutes worth of questions on the breed, on her dogs, on anything I could possibly need to know before even seriously considering making a commitment like this (meanwhile my trusty bulldog book came off the shelf, and I found myself reading chapter after chapter each night).

Needless to say, I met the puppies, and fell even more in love, and started contemplating what would need to happen for Toby to become a reality. I was still being cautious, because there was a waiting list, and a very real possibility that by the time it got to my name, there would be no dogs left…. And thus started my frantic budgeting, a rather long e-mail campaign to the breeder, a few awkward negotiations at work about pets in the office, some very long talks with my parents about some key work dates I might need a puppy-sitter… and the over-all getting my ducks in a row, just in case! I really was worried that it wouldn’t happen, that the dog I really wanted would be sold… and then I got the e-mail. 

Side note…. I totally feel like an expectant parent. I know that adopting a child is much more emotional… but I don’t want children… and Toby has been in my heart for YEARS. Ask anyone in my family, and they will tell you, I have been talking about Toby for a good long while, and of course no one really took me seriously.  I have a collage in my room of life goals… Toby is on there. So when I make references to becoming a single mom it is really because I feel like this is my dog child. And there is a very good chance that real children will not be in the picture. I also realize that if I ever want my current dating situation to change, I should probably not refer to myself as a single mom… but I kind of feel like one. I will not pretend that I know what it is like to have children, (however the Bulldog breeder has told me that getting a Bulldog is like having a perpetual two-year-old, and that raising a puppy is six times harder than raising a child…. I’m choosing not to believe that last fact… but some people might). I also know plenty of people who have opted not to have children, and really their pets fill that void. I’m not talking about the weird people who dress up their pets take them everywhere, and treat them like a member of the family  (please god, Toby will not wear clothes or costumes)… and I have every faith that I am not going to turn into a crazy pet lady, and I’m hopeful that Toby and I will have no familial resemblance. That being said, I cannot wait to wake up to his smudgy little face everyday.

Toby will be a work dog, and I have to say that though my boss might not be thrilled to share the office with another living creature (there is already a poodle in there as well) he is understanding about it, and everyone else in the office is pretty excited. I went to the office the other day, and my co-workers had printed out a picture of Toby, and put it on the bulletin board. This dog is loved, and he doesn’t even realize it yet!

Ok, ok, I’ll stop gushing/ being a crazy pet person. I honestly can’t help it… When your dreams become a reality, its hard not to shout it from the rooftops, do a little dance, post it on twitter etc. My heart is so full of love, I honestly cannot even describe it (also realize it might be a little sad that at the age of twenty-six I have never been in love, but damn it, I love this dog with every breath in my body… I’m choosing to look past that). I also realize that as of next week, my life is going to change dramatically. Gone are the late night’s in Portland, the impromptu nights spent crashed on friend’s couches. I’m headed into a reality that involves taking care of someone else’s needs, potty training, lining up baby-sitters, and always making sure I have enough time in the morning to pack a kennel, and lunch, and toys, and a leash, and get to work on time. I am entering into a reality that includes wrinkle cleaning, and shedding, and I’m sure more than one chewed up pair of shoes, and early mornings, and feeding schedules, and scooping poop. I am headed into the non-glamorous life of a pet, owner… which means money I was once spending on clothing and cocktails, will be spent on vet bills, and dog food (and probably some lint rollers) I’ll be the first to admit, “motherhood” is going to be a bit of an adjustment.  Did I mention that I get to wake up to this face everyday?

Here I am, living the dream. Just a single girl and her soon to be bulldog. 

(Seriously, quality men, get it together. I love baseball. I own a bulldog (who also happens to love the Red Sox). I’m a really good cook, I’ve been told that I’m funny, I’m a yoga teacher and I can shot gun a beer. I’m just sayin…. )

Thinking about what you eat

A friend & co-worker of mine is really involved with the local Slow Food movement, and recently started the 100 mile diet challenge. To be perfectly honest, I’m kind of in awe of the whole thing. I certainly don’t need convincing that fresh, local, in-season food is the absolute best… but I’m not ready to start making my own pasta and grinding my own flour either. I think I could absolutely eat only local produce, but when it gets down to the smaller ingredients, sourcing everything you eat from within 100 miles gets a little intense. I’m sure it will be a wonderful experiment, and I’m contemplating having 100 mile day, once a week, or 100 mile meals to help support the project. You do get to have some cheater items, and it is all self-policed, so really you only have to answer to your own conscience…. But how does one choose between coffee and salt? (the two obvious ones for me) Is life without either of them, or only with one of them really worth living? It just sounds like a bland, and grumpy existence to me. But I am in 100% support of the people who do make that choice!

When thinking about the 100 mile diet, I have also been thinking a lot about raw food. In the documentary Food Matters, one of the experts talks about how 51% of each meal should be made up of raw food, and our bodies aren’t meant to process more than that. During the winter, there are only so many salads you can eat… but now, during the summer months when my garden is finally producing, I feel as though raw food is making up a substantial part of my diet.  This is largely in-part to how beautiful fresh produce is. Take beans for example. I have a mix of purple beans, and rattlesnake beans planted, and the striking legumes are by far the most seductive thing in my garden right now. The deep eggplant purple, and the lightly speckled beans are absolutely gorgeous… show-stoppers for sure…. And yet if you cook them, all that amazing color fades to green, and you are left with run of the mill looking green beans. (nothing wrong with that… but when you start out with show-stoppers it seems a shame to turn them into standard). So rather than steaming or roasting the beans, I’ve been chopping them into salads, drizzling them with olive oil, eating them with croutons,  or just munching them off the vine. Because what could be better than fresh, local, beautiful produce? I’m sure I’ll end up cooking a few (it wouldn’t be summer without cooked green beans) but in the meantime I’m enjoying the showy looking salads with delicate flavors… and I’m enjoying not heating up my house with the stove. It’s a win win.

Tonight I chopped up the beans, added a roasted beet (also from my garden), an avocado, fresh basil, olive oil, and black salt. It wasn’t the most amazing salad I’ve ever made in my life, but it might have been the prettiest. And no, avocados aren’t local…. But maybe I can use the raw food rule…. If at least 51% of my meal is local…. Maybe I’ll still make a bit of a difference.