blood’s a rover

In an unexpected display of awesomeness, Full Sail Brewing decided to show their appreciation for our appreciation by sending us some Full Sail gear! We are both very grateful. I will wear my sweet new jersey with pride everywhere we ride this summer, and the navy blue hoodie is a real boost to Brianne’s thuggery.

In fact, it even inspired a promotional music video/advertisement:

two 40’s of O.E.
may be the same quantity
as five pints of Full Sail
but where be the quality?

light beer is for lightweights
save the lager for your mama
the brew is fake if it ain’t made
of hops, barley, yeast and water

yo, wassup to Wassail
big shoutout to Sunspot
two more that I can’t live without
Equinox and Black Gold Stout
you down with E.S.B?
yeah, you know me
so order up another round
pass me another pint to pound
and po’ one fo’ my homies
that be fermenting in the ground

cuz when we chillin’ on the deck
sippin’ on another Wreck
and summer drops you’ll finally see
there ain’t no better place to be
without Full Sail, Hood River’s just
a cute town with a steady breeze

NORTHWESTSIDE!

In an unexpected display of awesomeness, Full Sail Brewing decided to show their appreciation for our appreciation by sending us some Full Sail gear! We are both very grateful. I will wear my sweet new jersey with pride everywhere we ride this summer, and the navy blue hoodie is a real boost to Brianne’s thuggery.

As much as I dislike Camas, Washington in principle, the country air is cleaner and the nights prettier than in Portland, and we’re discovering little gems nearby all the time. On Sunday Brianne took care of some chores while I worked on (almost the last of) my homework, and then we took a nap together in the tall grass behind the house we’re staying in until we leave on our trip.

I was staring at a patch of grass when my eyes adjusted and I realized that we were surrounded on all sides by ladybugs. It wasn’t a swarm, but suddenly I could see a few tiny dots of color that weren’t there before, like an optical illusion made of grass and cherry red chitin. At one point I counted nine of them from where we lay, and occasionally I’d pluck one from a plant and watch it climb to the tip of my finger and take flight, reminding me of an overburdened helicopter.

While we lay there I read from a collection of writings by Jorge Luis Borges, an incredible Spanish novelist and poet who I’ve just recently discovered. In his poem “El Amenazado” (The Threatened One), I found this beautiful line:

“Estar contigo o no estar contigo es la medida de mi tiempo…”
(Being with you or without you is how I measure my time…)

My favorite Borges quote ever, though, is:

“To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god.”

When the day grew colder, Brianne went in the house and I remained behind, being stalked by our cat until it began to drizzle and she cried to be let inside. But to me the rain felt inviting, so I stayed there in the field as the shower passed over. It reminded me that I need to spend more time outside, experiencing the seasons instead of hiding from them. Maybe that’s what motivated me to pull Brianne outside later that evening to see the bruised purple and orange sky fading slowly to the west. Without warning, there was a lightning crack, and then another. The storm seemed a safe distance away and the sky over our house was dark blue and mostly clear, so we sat down on the front lawn and enjoyed the spectacle. Soon more thunderclouds were rolling across the hills, and we gasped as bold streaks of light made them glow warm as paper lanterns. When the sky finally growled with thunder I was left wondering how something so loud could remind me so much of a secret being whispered.

Last summer a friend from school and I were discussing music and after I mentioned several artists that he’d never heard of, he asked me to make him a mix CD. When I asked what specifically he wanted to hear he replied, “The Finest”. I really liked that request, and it motivated me to take the task seriously. It’s one thing to specify “The Most Popular” or “The Best Reviewed”, but quite another for one person to expect another to provide them with “The Finest”. Of course, seeking “The Finest” needn’t only apply to music.Because this last Saturday was our anniversary, it was with “The Finest” in mind that we packed a picnic and headed out to Sauvie Island, fifteen minutes north of Portland. Sauvie Island is one of our favorite places ever, and we’ve been visiting it since before we were married. In fact, it was the second choice for where we were going to get married (the Washington Park Rose Garden won out).

Once we arrived at Sauvie Island we chose a nice spot on the east bank overlooking the Columbia and began setting out fresh strawberries, dark chocolate, aged parmesean and etorki cheese, prosciutto, paté, crackers, and pears. We had brought along a bottle of wine from the Côtes du Rhône region of France (one of the places we’ll be working next fall), but then Brianne revealed a bottle of Erath’s 2003 La Nuit Magique Pinot Noir that she had bought just for the occasion. Not only is it Erath’s most limited reserve, it was the last bottle left at the winery. “Happy Anniversary”, she said.

In keeping with the provencial theme, I had Brianne close her eyes and hold out her hands, into which I placed a recently aquired Laguiole pocket knife, which are delicately shaped, handmade in France, and perfect for a budding winemaker. I used Brianne’s present to open mine, and then poured us two glasses of the dense purple liquid.

Since Brianne and I both believe that the setting of a meal or drink can be just as important as the product itself, we intend on including a brief summary of where the wine we review was tasted, what else was going on at the time, what time of day, etc. Although a person could conceivably taste 1000 wines in a blank white room and keep a perfectly legitimate record of his experience, that is the last thing we want to do. The number of wines we discover is not the primary goal, they’re only mile markers to encourage us onward, to keep us exploring. If we hear about a tiny town in Italy that makes “The Finest” Chianti, for instance, the effort it will take to get there is likely to be just as memorable as the wine itself, and it’s those memories we’re really cataloging.

Which brings me back to the wine we drank while digging our toes into the sand as the late afternoon sun warmed our backs: it was spectacular, like rich and smokey fruit that coated the tongue in velvet and seemed to last forever. Unlike many wines that aren’t good enough to want to keep tasting or those that are delicious but fleeting, this one patiently stuck around and allowed time to savor it. Wine is unique in that when you want more, it’s difficult to think of reasons not to indulge, as opposed to, say, a fatty steak or coffee ice cream.

So the wine was perfect, and the food (in that setting) was superior to any restaurant. Brianne and I both waited to taste the cheese until after the best bottle was finished, because the oils in cheese can mask the flavor of a wine (which is the reason some sneaky tasting rooms serve cheese), and we didn’t want any of those flavors masked. Just as important as the quality of the meal was the languid pace with which it was consumed. We talked, ate, and drank for several hours, watched the clear sky darken, and then headed home. It was a good anniversary.

***

As much as I dislike Camas, Washington in principle, the country air is cleaner and the nights prettier than in Portland, and we’re discovering little gems nearby all the time. On Sunday Brianne took care of some chores while I worked on (almost the last of) my homework, and then we took a nap together in the tall grass behind the house we’re staying in until we leave on our trip.

I was staring at a patch of grass when my eyes adjusted and I realized that we were surrounded on all sides by ladybugs. It wasn’t a swarm, but suddenly I could see a few tiny dots of color that weren’t there before, like an optical illusion made of grass and cherry red chitin. At one point Brianne and I counted nine of them from where we lay, and occasionally I’d pluck one from a plant and watch it climb to the tip of my finger and take flight, looking a lot like an overburdened helicopter.

While we lay there I read from a collection of writings by Jorge Luis Borges, an incredible Spanish novelist and poet who I’ve just recently discovered. In his poem “El Amenazado” (The Threatened One), I found this beautiful line:

“Estar contigo o no estar contigo es la medida de mi tiempo…”
(Being with you or without you is how I measure my time…)

My favorite Borges quote ever, though, is:

“To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god.”

Talk about “The Finest”. Borges makes it look easy.

When the day grew colder, Brianne went in the house and I remained behind, being stalked by our cat until it began to drizzle and she cried to be let inside. The rain felt inviting, so I stayed there in the field as the shower passed over. It reminded me that I need to spend more time outside, experiencing the seasons instead of hiding from them. Maybe that’s what motivated me to pull Brianne outside later that evening to see the bruised purple and orange sky fading slowly to the west. Without warning, there was a lightning crack, and then another. The storm seemed a safe distance away and the sky over our house was dark blue and mostly clear, so we sat down on the front lawn and enjoyed the spectacle. Soon more thunderclouds were rolling across the hills, and we gasped as bold streaks of light made them glow warm as paper lanterns. When the sky finally growled with thunder I was left wondering how something so loud could remind me so much of a secret being whispered.

Today, May 20th, 2006, is Brianne’s and my sixth wedding anniversary. But because we first met in person one year to the day before getting married, we’ve really been together for seven full years. The fact that seven years represents nearly a third of our lives made me curious about how much we’ve changed, so I went back through all of the photos we’ve accumulated up to now and selected some from each year. The first photo below was taken in New York City in June of 1999, and the last photo was taken just a few days ago. In addition to the more obvious physical changes, it strikes me that marriage really is more than a public contract or emotional covenant. Looking at all these, I don’t just see several pictures of the same two people, but rather snapshots of a phenomena that we happen to be participants in.

Marriage creates a human alloy.

Just as combining carbon and iron in a special way creates steel, the two of us chose to begin the process of becoming something different (and hopefully better) than ourselves several years ago. We did it because we believed that each other’s strengths and weaknesses were complimentary and would survive the flame of tempers and the tempering of time. So far, it has. By my defintion a good marriage is not one that lasts a long time or is filled with more happy moments than sad. It’s a process where, eventually, the two participants lives literally can’t be distinguished from each other. I think it’s possible to see that happening in these pictures, and I’m glad. The only way to reclaim carbon back from steel, after all, is to melt it down and lose all of the unique qualities that made the combination valuable in the first place.

New York City, 1999
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From the time that I was very young, a treat that I could count on whenever visiting my grandma Isa’s house (along with rice krispy treats) was a nice, big artichoke made just for me. I’m not sure how that started, but it was special, and my feelings toward this odd and wasteful vegetable are forever tied to those memories. So when we recently discovered some excellent looking, first-of-the-season artichokes at the local produce stand for only $1.50 each, we had to have them. But then I wondered, do most people know how to make artichokes? Has their strange appearance and often exorbitant price destined them for obscurity? If so, I’d like to help change that. What follows is an illustrated guide to the preparation and consumption of that unappreciated crustacean of plants, the Artichoke.

Step 1: Buy some artichokes. The word artichoke is taken from the Arabic “ardi shauk” meaning “ground-thorn.” The variety available in the United States is the Globe Artichoke, a thistle-like plant originally from southern Europe and the Mediterranean. When purchasing artichokes,they should be clean, firm, and as large as possible. Sometimes Trader Joe’s has small purple artichokes, which are nicely flavored but cannot be stuffed as shown below.

Step 2: Eat the artichoke. Millions of years of fierce survival instinct prompted the artichoke to develop sharp spines at the tip of each leaf, but that’s what your teeth are for, right? Just kidding. DON’T DO THIS, it will hurt. Instead, wash the artichoke thoroughly and continue to Step 3.

Step 3: Trim the stem close enough that the artichoke sits upright, and trim the top 1/2″ or so from the top.

Step 4: Carefully spread the leaves apart, making room for stuffing. Then fill the spaces between leaves with breadcrumbs. Although this step is optional, it will increase the actual amount of food you will get out of it for all the work you’ll be doing.

Step 5: Place the stuffed artichokes in about an inch or so of water. You may want to place the artichokes before adding water, so you don’t accidentally wash all the breadcrumbs out by overfilling the pot. Steam them covered on high heat for a minimum of half an hour. Add water as needed, if you don’t you’ll ruin your pan and dinner when all the water evaporates. Check if they’re ready by pulling off a test leaf and seeing if the tip of “meat” at the bottom of the leaf is tender by scraping it off with your top teeth. If it isn’t, keep steaming.

Step 6: Remove the artichoke from heat and allow to cool slightly. Prepare some melted butter or other sauce (I’ve heard of using mayonaise, but a lemon sauce or vinaigrette would be good too.) The amount of work it takes to eat an artichoke combined with being an excuse to eat drawn butter is the reason they’re like the crabs of the vegetable world.

Step 7: Begin removing leaves, dipping in the sauce, and scraping the meat and breadcrumbs off with your teeth. Work your way around the bud in a circular, clockwise or counterclockwise fashion. You will begin accumulating a large pile of leaves.

Step 8: Eventually you will reach a second set of smaller, much more tender leaves. These can be eaten five or so at a time, and instead of scraping the ends, just dip them and bite through the bottom third of the leaves.

Step 9: Like a Russian matryoshka (nesting egg) doll, you will next discover even smaller, even more tender leaves. Don’t eat these, just remove them like a cap to reveal the “choke” (also called the “thistle”). Don’t eat that either, it will get everywhere if you try. Instead, scrape it away with a spoon, revealing…

Step 10: The Heart! This is the part that, along with those soft secondary leaves, can be purchased pickled at the grocery store. It is basically a jackpot of all the meat you’ve been eating off of the leaves, and the flavor here is more concentrated, sort of like fennel or licorice, but lighter.

Step 11: Slice up the heart and dip those too. Remember that this is your last chance justify eating butter, so make it count.

Step 12: Eat your heart out. If you have another artichoke prepared, return to Step 7.

I hope this guide has motivated you to try this delicious treat the next time you see them at the grocery store. I promise that you will end up with a full stomach and gigantic pile of inedible leaves if you do. You might even develop Gout.

Enjoy!

From the time that I was very young, a treat that I could count on whenever visiting my grandma Isa’s house (along with rice krispy treats) was a nice, big artichoke made just for me. I’m not sure how that started, but it was special, and my feelings toward this odd and wasteful vegetable are forever tied to those memories. So when we recently discovered some excellent looking, first-of-the-season artichokes at the local produce stand for only $1.50 each, we had to have them. But then I wondered, do most people know how to make artichokes? Has their strange appearance and often exorbitant price destined them for obscurity? If so, I’d like to help change that. What follows is an illustrated guide to the preparation and consumption of that unappreciated crustacean of plants, the Artichoke.

Continue Reading…

The Bikes

Like a trailer for a movie we’d been waiting all winter for, last Sunday was a sneak preview of the great summer still to come. Brianne and I went on our first mountain bike ride of the season, at Post Canyon just west of Hood River, Oregon. It was a beautiful day, and the trails were excellent- challenging in spots but equally rewarding, perfectly groomed and easy to explore. I really enjoyed seeing Brianne build confidence in herself and her bike, and it was nice to spend so much time together. Despite the perfect weather we only met about 8 other riders, and everyone was as friendly and helpful as we try to be.

While we were riding, Brianne said it reminded her of tree skiing, and I agree with her. There’s nothing better than gliding through the forest and being filled with an abundance of peace that our lives usually lack. To paraphrase Thoreau, nature abhors a vacuum, and riding without a care allows nature to happily fill that void.

The Beer

By the time Brianne and I made our way back to the car, we were both thirsty, but not water thirsty, beer thirsty. For all our talk about the magic of wine, on most occasions I’ll drink beer instead of wine when given the choice. They both have their merits, and while “abillionbeers.org” does have a nice ring to it, the more appropriate “cirrhosis.org” does not. Although I never drank any alcohol before moving to Portland (or getting married, hmm…), easy access to the wonderful quality and variety of both beer and wine here quickly won me over. I consider myself lucky that since I completely avoided the youthful trap of drinking just to drink, my introduction to alcohol was one based on quality rather than quantity. I enjoy quantity too sometimes, and it’s hard to go wrong in a place with more craft breweries per capita than any other place on earth. Full Sail Brewing is one of our favorites. In addition to being owned and operated by great people, their consistency and interesting brews have kept them on my short list for a long time. Their location in the adorable little town of Hood River and summer patio overlooking the Columbia doesn’t hurt, either.

After sharing a few pints of fresh, crisp I.P.A. and E.S.B., Brianne and I joined the last brewery tour of the afternoon. When we took the tour a few years ago it was just the two of us and our guide, and although this time only added two more to our group, the Brewery itself has grown considerably in the interim. Our guide, Matt, was very knowledgeable about the company’s history and methods, and it’s always nice to ask questions and talk with a person who shares (and encourages) our enthusiasm.

Beer, at its best, is made using only water, malted barley, hops, and yeast. Most giant domestic breweries use rice instead of barley, brew extra strong batches and then highly dilute them with water, and add corn syrup for sweetness, which means that, like the “grape flavored” beverage served in grade school, you’re really drinking a “beer flavored” beverage regardless of what the label says. An talented brewer needs only those four basic ingredients to produce a spectrum of tastes, colors, and aromas as varied and complex as wine (sorry, but it’s true).

So at the risk of revealing Full Sail’s company secrets, here is their ingredient list once again:

Water- Naturally purified on its way down the mountains, Full Sail returns unused water back to the water table which limits local impact.

Malted Barley- Similarly to coffee, barley is roasted to the desired darkness before being used to make beer. Much of a beer’s sweetness and nearly all of its color comes from the malt, so a Pale Ale with a much lighter color and flavor is due to a lightly roasted barley, while sweeter dark beers such as Stouts and Porters are made using barley that has been roasted much longer.

Hops- Hops are the flowers of Humulus lupulus, a plant used almost solely in the production of beer. Hops provide the bitterness that balances the sweetness of the malt. They also provide the strong floral and citrus aromas that Pale Ales and I.P.A’s are treasured for. While Brianne typically enjoys darker beers over an extremely hoppy beer that I might choose, nothing beats the crispness and citrus of a heavily hopped beer on a hot summer afternoon. Full Sail’s hops come from throughout the Northwest, especially the Yakima valley.

Yeast- Most all beer can be divided into two broad categories, Ale and Lager. The difference between the two is the kind of yeast that is used. Ales use a yeast that rises to the top while fermenting and ferments at a higher temperature, while Lagers use a yeast that sinks to the bottom while fermenting and ferments at lower temperatures. Ales are typically stronger flavored and more complex than Lagers. Many of the craft brewers in the Northwest brew Ales almost exclusively. The type of yeast used can also greatly affect the flavor of the beer. The yeast used to make a Belgian style weizen beer, for instance, gives that kind of beer its distinctive clove and banana flavors. These flavors come from the esters and phenols released by the yeast during fermentation.

As for actually making the beer, it goes something like this:

The malt is crushed and placed in the Mash Tun with water that is then heated. This causes enzymes in the malt to begin breaking down the grain starches into the sugars that will be used by the yeast to create alcohol. Once this process is completed, the Mash Tun contains a conconction known as wort, which is then moved into the Lautering Tun for separation.

While in the Lautering Tun, the solids of the mash are separated and the wort continues on to the Kettle. While in the Kettle the wort is boiled to sterilize the mixture and this is the step where hops are added. Depending on the variety of hops or method of hopping (dry hopping, for instance, steeps fresh hops in the Kettle like big tea bags) this step can drastically affect the flavor of the beer.

Inside the kettle

After sufficient boiling the hopped wort continues on to the whirlpool tank, which separates coagulated proteins and hop solids from liguid, and then on to the fermentation tanks. The fermentation cools the wort very slowly, and just as with wine those tiny but invaluable friends of man, yeast, begin gorging themselves on the dissolved sugars of the wort. During the process they release carbon dioxide and alcohol, both of which are reasons the substance remaining in the fermentation tanks can finally be considered beer.

True tall boys

After fermentation the beer is conditioned by being cooled to the point where the yeast and solids coagulate and sink to the bottom, and then the beer is filtered which stabilizes the flavor and improves the color. Finished beer ends up in the Bright Tanks, now ready for consumption. Finally this wonderful beverage is bottled or kegged and eventually ends up in your local grocery store or, even better, stays put and is served to you a hundred feet from the room where it was made.

“Where every-bo-dy knows your na-a-ame, and they’re always glad you ca-a-ame.”

Afterword

Leaving the Full Sail Brewery, Brianne and I made our way back across to the Washington side of the Columbia and began our drive home. Just after passing the Bonneville Dam, Brianne spotted a sea lion being accosted by several seagulls. We pulled off the highway to investigate. While the seagulls were indeed messing with the sea lion, they were far more interested in the fish the sea lion was bringing to the surface and shaking around than the sea lion itself. We could hear it barking from the shore. Recently a particular sea lion has been sneaking into the Bonneville dam’s fish ladders and gorging himself on salmon, and this has caused a minor outcry of some psuedo-enviromentalists, also known as selfish fisherman. Do you think those people recognize the irony of complaining about the enviromental impact of one sea lion eating six salmon a day while ignoring the unimaginably greater impact of, let’s see, A GIGANTIC MANMADE HYDROELECTRIC DAM? In any case, it was cool to see (and hear) a sea lion so far from the ocean.

Yeah, the sea lions are interfering with nature.

Despite the nonsense with the sea lions, the civil engineer in me thinks the Bonneville Dam is sort of pretty. The pillars and arches and mist of water spray makes the structure much less unsightly than it could have been, and it does provide a renewable energy source. Everything has a tradeoff, after all. Except wild roses. They’re just perfect.

The Bikes

Like a trailer for a movie we’d been waiting all winter for, last Sunday was a sneak preview of the great summer still to come. Brianne and I went on our first mountain bike ride of the season, at Post Canyon just west of Hood River, Oregon. It was a beautiful day, and the trails were excellent- challenging in spots but equally rewarding, perfectly groomed and easy to explore. I really enjoyed seeing Brianne build confidence in herself and her bike, and it was nice to spend so much time together. Despite the perfect weather we only met about 8 other riders, and everyone was as friendly and helpful as we try to be.

Continue Reading…