Bernie's Southern Bistro

On a lazy afternoon, Katie and I went for chow just down the street from her place. I'd seen Bernie's Southern Bistro on one of my walks about the neighborhood, and since she is pretty new to that area herself, she had never been there either, and it was a perfect spot for us to check out together.



It was another incredibly beautiful, sunny and mild Portland day, and we were excited to dine al fresco. Bernie's, as Katie noted, had made a what we thought was a fairly bold move: the dining room wasn't even open. It was as though Bernie's was telling you, "There is no excuse for you not to eat on our patio today." And they were right, in my opinion.



The patio had a modern, Asian aesthetic. It was simple and casual, like a friend's well-maintained front porch. (The one with the manicured plants, and the re-finished vintage furniture, not the one with the musty upholstered love seat.)



As it was close to dusk, we picked a spot out of the direct rays of the setting sun. Katie had told me that Portland service was notoriously slow, and at first, that appeared to be the case. Our hostess said, "and can I get you anything else?" and I said, "do you have iced tea?" mistaking her for our server. She said, "I'll get your server," but no one came for several minutes. I think we may have hidden ourselves a bit too well in the corner, but presently, we got a friendly waitress who didn't stay away after the first delay. I got sweetened tea, and it was lovely -- made with sugar syrup as is proper. Katie got a deliciously chilled martini that had grapefruit juice in it. I thought the little iced caddy that carried her refill was innovative.



Katie, in my opinion, did a great job channeling Coco Chanel while we enjoyed the sun.



We got complimentary cornbread and honey butter. The bread was light and soft with just a little grit, as Katie said she likes it. Was it as good as the ultimate cornbread? No, no, of course not. But it was very good.



All of the starters looked very tasty, but of course we had to try the fried green tomatoes. They came on a mayo-based sauce, nicely seasoned and piping hot. I wanted them to be just a bit more well-done, but they were very good. They were crispy, and the breading wasn't too thick. We even ate the garnish.



When dinner came, one of the entrées we had ordered had been substituted with the meatloaf (which did look really good). Our waitress swapped it out fairly quickly, apologizing, and told us she would give us any dessert we liked with her compliments, which I thought was very nice. She needn't have worried, since Katie and I were sharing, anyway, we simply started on our first entrée, the smoked brisket with blueberry BBQ sauce, and a cheese and whitebread casserole (not appearing on the Bernie's website menu at the moment). I have a blueberry BBQ sauce recipe I've been wanting to try for some time, and I love brisket like I love beer and discount clothing, so I had to try that. Katie suggested the fried chicken, and I told her she was my soulmate.



My pic doesn't do the brisket justice, but it was perfect. It melted in your mouth, had just a light smoke, and even the sides were great. The asparagus was cooked with just the right amount of snap, and that whitebread and cheese soufflé (or casserole) had that flavor like something you'd get in a real southern diner. I wanted to dive into a mound of it, suffer a cave-in, and eat my way out.

When the fried chicken arrived, I didn't think it looked like it would be crispy. Happily, I was very wrong. It was well-seasoned and crunchy all over. Jack Sprat (I mean Katie) had the piece of white meat, and I had the boneless piece of thigh. The mashed potatoes and gravy, and the smoky and just-the-right-amount-of-heat greens were heaven.



We were stuffed, but of course we accepted our free dessert. We settled on the bananas foster bread pudding. I'm sure it was better warm, but Katie and I plowed into it cold later that night, and it was still sinfully rich and delicious.



Bernie's was, to me, just how dining should be: unpretentious, authentic, al fresco on a perfect day, beautifully presented, moderately priced, and within strolling distance from your own home. Especially after enough martinis.

On my Friday night in Portland Jen and Katie and I went out in search of some later-evening eats. We had spent a bit longer at Jen's house than we had intended, due to some unexpected "shopping" we did there. Katie spied a box full of clothing that Jen had, and immediately was all over it, saying, "Hey Jen, what're you doing with this stuff?" Before she could finish saying, "I think I'm just gonna give it away," Katie and I had clothing and shoes flying. We all wear about the same size, with some subtle differences. I scored a gorgeous leather coat, because it was too tight in the chest for Jen (lucky me). Katie has the smallest rear end you've ever seen, and has to find pants to fit that. I have a bigger butt, but a smaller waist, and I have to find clothing that will accommodate both. Have you ever seen "Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants?" Katie and I cracked up over a pair of second-hand pants we got that, instead of magically fitting all of us and accentuating our best features as the pants in the story do, they seemed to highlight all of our worst characteristics.

Anyway, I got a lot of really nice clothing from Jen, and luckily she also was giving away a backpack that I could put it all in, and check before my flight out later on. I had already done so much shopping that I couldn't fit any more into my suitcase! As a thank-you, and also because they both had birthdays coming up, I wanted to take them out to eat. They picked Widmer Brewery, a place they like to go, and knew what they liked to eat there.

I'm always up for a brewpub, so I was excited. I've fallen down on my reviewing responsibilities, however, in that I think the beer I ordered was a seasonal or specialty brew, and I don't find it on the website. Should have written it down. But you can bet it was amber or stout, and I do know that it was very smooth and mild, I liked it very much. I also tried everyone else's, and liked those as well. Good start. (Because if you don't like the beer at a brewpub, would you really want to stick around?)

Katie and Jen said the fondue was good, so we got that as a starter. Yep. They were right.



It came with chunks of pumpernickel bread, and was a whiter fondue. It has a swiss cheese base, which I thought was fairly unique, and coordinated perfectly with beer and German-American-style food. I think I ate more of it than anyone. We kept the dip, and later I dipped parts of my meal in it. (Why is my rear end so big? Can't think.)

Katie was in the mood for pasta, and she got the Garlic Shrimp Fettuccine.



She said it was okay. As Dom DeLuise once said in a favorite movie of mine. "It's nice. Not thrilling... But nice." I sort of figured this would be the case. I mean, what great things can you do to shrimp fettuccine, really? Just personal taste, but to me even the great ones are "meh." Katie asked us if we wanted the leftovers, and when we didn't, she ate most of the shrimp off the top.

Jen got what she apparently always gets, because she loves it: the Cajun Chicken Pasta.



She let me have a bite, and it was very good. It reminded me just a little bit of my beloved (and extinct) Sonora Chicken Pasta from Ruby Tuesday's, a once-favorite restaurant of mine that I no longer endorse since the company was purchased. It had a bit more seasoning (cumin and coriander, I think), and a little less heat. She said the only downside was that it never reheated quite so well the next day.

While Jen ordered "the most popular pasta," I ordered "the number-one-selling entrée" (information on the menu which I found to be very helpful), the Chicken Schnitzel. Here's where it gets really good, folks.



I don't want to be one of those people that likes what she ordered the best (though that's better than the person that likes what you ordered the best), but I liked what I ordered the best. And I know you've had enough superlatives by now, but this was hands-down the best schnitzel I've ever had. The meat was so incredibly tender and juicy that I'm tempted to use one of those words that makes me just a little ill, like "succulent." The chicken had a delicate lemon and wine sauce that enhanced, rather than smothered it, and the lightest crunch in the breading (not like the heavier breading you sometimes get). There were two subtle potato latkes on the side, and steamed veggies. And the leftovers even reheated pretty well in Katie's oven the next day.

Should you, or anyone you know go to Portland? I would highly recommend two friends to shuttle you around, give you new-to-you clothing, and most of all, that fantastic schnitzel at the Widmer Brothers Brewery.

Manzanita Seafood and Chowder House

When Katie was off work on Saturday, she was good enough to take me on the long, winding road out to the coast so I could see the ocean, and soak up some sun. And see some surfers.



We arrived in what she calls "the Four-Door Sports Car," her well-used vehicle that has an exhaust leak too costly to bother fixing. It gives a satisfying roar as you cruise along, getting a lot of surprised looks from the hippies -- but hey -- it still passes the emissions tests. Katie has done some surfing herself, and she knew just where to stop the car to follow a beautiful trail that led out to the beach. To me, it was like a fairy tale.



The beach itself was magnificent! Perfect, warm weather (but not too hot), and the soft, smooth sand was like walking around in your own living room. If it was wetter on your toes.



After strolling up and down the beach a bit, we decided to move on up the road. Twiddling your toes in the sand can make you really hungry. That's a bit of a joke... But seriously folks, any contact with water makes me ravenous. Always has. It doesn't matter if I've been strenuously swimming or skiing in the waves, or if I just got out of the bath for a soak. (Cue Seinfeld: "What... Is the deal... With THAT?")

We pulled off the road just about ten minutes later in the little town of Manzanita. Katie said, "Let's eat somewhere by the water," but as soon as we passed the Manzanita Seafood and Chowder House, I knew I wanted to park and give it a shot. You gotta have seafood on the coast!



As soon as we went in, I thought of an adaptation of the Visa commercial: "But if you're going to this little coastal restaurant in the town of Manzanita, bring your appetite. And bring your CASH, because they don't take American Express. They don't take Visa, either!" Luckily, there was an ATM across the street. I was back in a flash.



All of the seafood looked good. I felt that I should get crab, at first, but none of the offerings were really calling out to me. Katie wanted fried fish, and I decided to join her. Why not see if it was better along the coast, eh? Truth be told, that's what I really wanted anyway. I got the cod (I was hoping it would be a Pacific cod, and therefore would be really fresh), and Katie got the halibut. Excellent.

My first shock came as I ordered, of course, an iced tea and took it back to the table to drink it. It was the foulest liquid I have ever had the misfortune to drink. Either something had gone wrong with the batch (very, very wrong), or these people just don't know how to make iced tea. I usually say you can judge a place by their iced tea, and so this did not bode well at all. In addition, because I always save a few calories by not getting the fries, I had ordered the lightly dressed pasta salad, and they were all out. I ended up with a double order of cole slaw. Lastly, there was no malt vinegar on the tables, and someone had to get a few bottles from the back. That's no problem, but I think it shows a bit of carelessness. Needless, bro, I was not stoked.

My misgivings were pushed aside, however, when my meal arrived. What a beautiful platter of fried fish, alongside a mountain of cole slaw. It truly was the best fried cod I have ever had. The fish had such a firm texture, I really want to compare it to the food that one is never to compare food to (like chicken, there, I spelled it out). It had NO fish taste at all, just clean and lovely.



Katie was equally pleased with her halibut. I gave her my tartar sauce, and soaked mine in malt vinegar.



We then scooted out to the beach, where Katie lay down to sunbathe, and I braved the excruciating cold on my feet to gawk more in the surf (the day was warm, the water was not). I've been in the ocean on either coast several times, but this one was crazy cold. Katie said the warning was generally that hypothermia sets in after about 30 seconds. I'm surprised it was that long.

After lying about in the sun for awhile (and yes, I always wear a strong sunscreen), we drove back, showered (no Chris, not together) and went out for... what else? More eating! And for that, I'll see you next time.

McMenamins Kennedy School

Okay, onto my recent trip to Portland!

My first night in town, Katie picked me up from the airport and the poor thing arrived half-starved and saying, "I'm glad to see you. Now I need meat." Katie is often right to the point like this when she is hungry. Once when she and I were roommates in Chicago, she and I dragged our hungover carcasses into the grocery store to find something to eat. As soon as we got inside, her eyes scanned the store and I thought I heard her mumbling, "I think I need... a chicken." I didn't think that could be what she said. She must have meant "a chicken sandwich," or something like that, right? Wrong. She arrived at the checkout, smiling, with a whole rotisserie chicken, which she happily ate in front of the TV with a can of Pepsi.

Katie took me to a place very close to where she lives in Portland. She kept saying, "Let's go to the Kennedy School." I assumed she must be talking about some culinary arts college that gave you fancy meals at a discount. Wrong again -- it is a sort of mall (I hate to use that term, but I mean the older definition meaning the type you can stroll around, not the type that has a Claire's Boutique) that used to be an elementary school (named Kennedy). McMenamin is the name of two brothers that love two things: beer, and old buildings. They have made over several historic buildings in other areas, as well, most of them now re-purposed as hotels.



The Kennedy School has a movie theatre, a soaking pool (I gotta see this next time I go), a restaurant/brewery, and regular musical events. There is artwork all over the place, but the original structure has been largely retained, so the fact that it is a school is nicely unobscured.



We went into the restaurant area, and looking out the windows, I could sense the spirits of several generations of woeful students, gazing longingly out the large windows from their desks. I couldn't help but feel a satisfaction on their behalf as I prepared to consume a beer from the very same spot. I took my first deep slug of the "Terminator Stout" thinking, Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone!



I really like the stout. It was pretty smooth and mild. Katie got the "Ruby" brew, and I liked hers even better than mine. I usually steer clear of anything touted as "fruity and light" (certain close friends being the exception there), because I'm usually disappointed to find that what I've received is a pale ale with fruit syrup added (I'm looking at you, Ram Brewery). That wasn't the case here, however, as the Ruby was mild and sort of vaguely tangy.

A bacon burger was what Katie needed, and a bacon burger is what she got. She got it good, too.



(I apologize for the cellphone photography -- neither McMenamins nor Katie are actually green). I got the prime rib sandwich, which came with au jus. The meat was a very high quality, and had a delicate flavor that was pretty damned perfect. Even the roll was bakery fresh. I also got a side salad that was very good, but... who cares?



I could definitely have spent a lot more time at McMenamins Kennedy School, if it hadn't already been so late, and the prime rib sandwich and beer hadn't made me even more eager to sleep after my flight. But all in all, I'd say, McMenamins is not just another brick in the wall.

Buffalo Grove Days, or, "Had Enough Crap Yet?"

In September, nothing wraps up a summer of eating battered and deep-fried nitrites on sticks quite like the last big party, when Chris and I walk over to the Buffalo Grove Days. In the past, we've had chocolate and marshmallow-covered popcorn, had too much crappy yellow beer that was intensely overpriced, and witnessed the phenomenon that is "Infinity." To date, however, nothing had quite offended my eyes and ears so much as this:



You read it right. It's called "You M8K It Super Slush Lab," a spelling that could only make me think of my friend Jenny, who has mentally collected the perverse misspellings used by Madison Avenue to sell non-food items to kids ever since I can remember (think words like Nyce, Stuf, Lite, Likkum Stix, and Chawklit). Her notes to me in junior high and high school were filled with artfully worked phrases like, "Heyyy, Shì Patì, hoo du yoo lyke two-day?" Originally, that's why I took the picture, just to show it to Jen. But then I stood and looked at it a bit longer.



The unit glows with every garish color in the day-glo rainbow, and plays freakish carnival music (you know the one, the "big top" organ tune, "dit dit dooty ditta dit da doo-tie...") to lure children; a kind of modern-day witch's candy house. Kids can spend as little as $3 on a cup and make their own Super Slush flavor combo. But how are you gonna fit all the flavors you want in a $3 cup, Junior? With a variety that includes Sour Apple, Extreme Watermelon, Power Kiwi Burst, Tubular FD & C Neon Green #8, and Radical Premature Type II Diabetes, you'd better get mom to open up her pocketbook for the $7 cup! And then get to the dentist now. No, like, NOW. Stick two straws and a plastic spoon in it, Fattie, and get back in the SUV!



I soon realized that this wasn't just an amusing phonetic misspelling. What I was in the presence of was absolutely everything that is evil about America, in one portable electric trailer. Nothing less. I was mesmerized by the flowing, frosty pumps of glowing sin, and Chris eventually had to drag me away.

Now, let's focus on what IS good in this country, try not to think any longer about what starving children overseas would think of this gross display, and move onto the food tent. Yay! I smell barbecue!



It takes awhile to decide what to eat in the food tent. Much like Cher noted in the movie Clueless, you have to do at least one full lap before you commit to a location. We finally decided that Chris would get the pulled pork BBQ sandwich from Brothers' BBQ, and I found a nice option in the chicken gyros from the Continental Restaurant tent. I also got an ear of steamed corn, I think from the Girl Scout tent.

The pulled pork was very good. The pork had no sauce, and then when your sandwich is made up, it is added over the top. After living in Nashville a short time, I now feel that this is the only real way to serve pulled pork, so I approved.



I didn't know that the Continental served chicken gyros, but now I might need to go there to get another one sometime. It wasn't grilled chicken breast, but that same sort of "meat roll" on a spit, just as the lamb gyro was. The tzatziki sauce was very thick, and I thought the whole thing was really tasty. It was a bit leaner than the lamb gyro probably would have been, but I'm okay with that.



Chris and I both crunched on the corn-on-the-cob, which had just come out of the steamer and was boiling hot. Additional butter was not available, but the corn was so sweet it really didn't need it. They did have chili seasoning and parmesan cheese, which I did make good use of. Delicious.

Being averse to sweetened drinks of any kind (artificial or not), I opted for a bottle of water. Chris decided to try a Lemon Shake-Up at Randy's stand, before the claustrophobia-inducing conditions of the tent finally got to me.



The drink came not in a cup, but in a large oil barrel. I did take a sip, and I thought it was very good for what it was, with lots of fresh lemon juice. The amount of sugar still made my teeth feel "furry," though, immediately. I just don't get the sugary drink thing anymore, I guess. But Chris liked it.

We strolled on home in the beautiful weather, with empty wallets and full stomachs. Ahhh, you know what? I love this country.

Well, hello there!! I've been gone for over a week... But I have a really good excuse. I've actually been gone -- I went to Portland, Oregon to see some friends for five glorious days. I did a lot of second-hand (and for that matter, first-hand) shopping, and a LOT of eating. I had to sit on my suitcase to get it shut (and I had a whole second backpack my friend Jen gave me), and I had to cram myself into the airplane seat to get the belt closed. Well, I exaggerate, but lets just say I'm watching what I eat for the next... year.

Before I start posting on all the lovely Portland eating adventures I had, however, I have to do a couple of posts on some summer festivals we attended before summer is truly over. Already there is a chill in the air and a snap in the leaves that makes me want to put the deep-fried delights of August behind me, and focus on the warm comfort food of autumn. So here is one of two last summer "hurrahs": our August trip to Indiana Beach in Monticello, Indiana.



Indiana Beach is a special place for me. My brother, my friends and I nagged my father into dragging us to Lake Shafer once or even twice a summer from the time I was very young up through high school. It is a place of un-fancified, cheezy carnival fun that never failed to amuse us. My best friend and I loved the haunted car ride that advertised, "It's cool... Cool... COOL inside," because the air conditioning was just about the only reason to stand on line to go in. My brother and I loved the "Gallery of Ghouls" shooting gallery, and for years we have re-created the hawking-a-lugie sound that the piranha used to make when he bobbed up out of the fish tank (made even more hilarious by the fact that piranhas have nothing to do with ghosts or ghouls, but I supposed they are vaguely menacing.) Often, the park would not bother to power the "scenes" in Frankenstein's Castle, let alone turn off the lights. Once, I distinctly remember a worker's "plumber's crack" being the scariest thing that I witnessed inside. Events like this just made us like the place all the more.

Shockingly, rather than finding ol' Indiana Beach has gone further downhill since my last visit nearly twenty years ago, I found the old girl to be in really great shape. They've changed a few things (the haunted car ride is now pirate-themed, and the piranha, disappointingly, now makes a slide-whistle sound), but most of them are improvements. And the place is not so improved that it doesn't still hold it's vintage charm. Most of the arcade games are the same, and most still cost a quarter.

I could talk about Indiana Beach at even further length, but I'll try to stick to the food. That IS what we're here for, after all.

We began our morning at the campground with a breakfast that would elevate our blood sugar to unhealthy levels and prepare us for the day's feast.



My friend Greg asked me to caption the picture on the cereal box in his hand. The one I came up with was, "There's nothing like a good acid enema in the morning!" I mean, take a look at that rabbit. He's on something besides sugar.

We made our way across the street to the park, where there were more food-related photo op's.





Deciding on the chow was difficult. Our stomachs weren't our limitation so much as the relative expense of park fare. Luckily, a sandwich board sign put me off the corn dogs fairly quickly.



The idea of eating anthropomorphically changed food has never really appealed to me. Especially a mustachioed Pronto Pup. And what's with I.B. Crow's corn dog offering?



I like the Crow, I just don't want to know him that intimately.

If you can shake off the signage, however, the hand-dipped corn dogs inside the park at Pronto Pups do smell mighty fine.



After our hearty breakfast and a few rides, our first meal in the park was at the Taco Shoppe, where I had remembered always buying a few chicken tacos. When we arrived, however, there was no option for "chicken" or "beef" tacos, just "tacos," or "walking tacos." (These are taco meat on chips inside the bag that they come in.) After eating my tacos, I'm still not sure if they are beef or chicken... And as unappealing as that sounds? Let me tell you, those are some really fine tacos. They have some authentic Mexican cheese, a savory meat (of some type), and taco sauce. Very tasty.



My buddy Jen got the taco salad, which she said was very good also.



I got a fairly pricey strawberry and banana smoothie at the Smoothie Hut next door, which I was dismayed to watch come straight out of a machine. Still, it was surprisingly good, and I could taste real fruit in it. I declined the upgrade to a souvenir coconut cup.



Later in the day, we each got an elephant ear. Oh, they were lovely. Greg got the cherry topping on his, and Jen and Chris each got the standard cinnamon and sugar shaken on top.





The two women at the stand were fairly taken aback when I asked for NO sugar at all on mine. I got my plain elephant ear, and then hunted a few stands for salt packets, finally finding them outside the Pronto Pup stand. I had that instead of sugar (when I was a kid and Dad fried dough at home, this is how we liked it). I often opt for the savory instead of the sweet. It was fan-savory-tastic.



Late in the evening, after swimming and a shower at the campground, all five roller coasters and several video games later, we ate at the Skyroom Restaurant. In all my years at the park, I don't remember ever having eaten there before... Jen took pictures for me, so I'll add those to this post when I get them from her (like this post isn't long enough already). I had the best beef liver I've ever tasted. Chris got the spectacular "Chicken Salad Hawaiian," which came with enough fruit on the platter to feed a baby elephant. Jen and Greg had the fried chicken, which looked really fantastic to my jealous eyes.

Sadly, our stay at the Indiana Beach Campground was to be cut short only a couple of hours later. I had never stayed at the campground before, and I don't believe I will again. I don't want to say it was full of white trash, but lets just say the number of Dale Earnhardt flags on trailers out there can probably be viewed from the air. We were kept awake by our neighbor having a drunken brawl with her boyfriend, who was later picked up outside the park for a DUI. I know this, because the sheriff eventually arrived after my friend Greg asked her to turn down her Nickelback, and she became so incensed that she was eventually threatening to burn our campsite to the ground, in a lengthy storm of screaming curses and in front of her two young children. Chris decided that it would be better not to lie awake and listen for a match to strike, and we packed up and abruptly left at 1:30 in the morning. Unbelievably, Greg and Jen stayed, and he said the woman cried, hollered an moaned (to no one in particular) about her boyfriend's arrest and her various child custody problems until early in the morning. Jen slept through the whole affair.

Still, as much as I intensely disliked the campground, I am still so very fond of Indiana Beach Amusement Park. The park was so much fun, and the food was sinfully good. Next time, however, I believe I will just eat, ride, play... and run.

The sound effect you can just hear in the following video is me, adding the original and "correct" cry of the fearsome Ghoul Piranha.

Indiana Beach Piranha, with Original Sound Added

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