my favorite farm to table meal this year

Needless to say, my Portland Oregon trip changed my life. I’ll likely spend the rest of my days recounting its importance of my esteem, style, essence, and growth. Before settling into Portland, I traveled up the coast to Cannon Beach and then four hours from there to Seattle. I came back down to finish things off and really enjoy myself. So much happened in those three days before nestling into the naturally lit cosy airbnb that held me for the remainder of the trip. However, this blog post isn’t about all of that, it’s merely about the meal that started everything. When I was about 10 minutes away from the airbnb, my nerves got the best of me. I was afraid I wouldn’t like Portland as much as I liked Seattle. I was afraid I would be unsafe. I was afraid that if I didn’t like Portland as much as I had liked Seattle and also felt unsafe, that I wouldn’t leave the airbnb and therefore wouldn’t enjoy myself. I was afraid to walk alone. I was afraid to be away from the place mentally and physically I needed to get away from. I was afraid that I couldn’t do the remainder of the trip as confidently as I thought I was beginning to. I was really just afraid. But when I parked, and arrived outside of the home, my fears melted away and I made a decision not to face all of my fears that day, but to just get something to eat. 

I hadn’t eaten much at that point on the trip. I was buying food, but I wasn’t really eating it. It was really just due diligence. As my depression dissolved and my anxiety settled, my appetite suffered. Plus, with the overall pressure of traveling alone, and trying to get inside before sun down, food ended up being one of the last priorities. I was in survival mode and coming out of survival mode, and when that happens, I… don’t care what I eat. I don’t care if I eat. I don’t even want to eat until I can actually enjoy it fully. So, I was ready to eat. I was ready to have a meal. 

I chose a place close enough to walk and follow easily enough with the iPhone GPS and also a place that seemed good enough. I didn’t want to get neurotic about reviews and stars and dollar signs, I just needed it to be a step up from the chain restaurants I had been getting food from all along. It was around 5pm, an early dinner, but it was the only thing on my agenda. So, I barely settled in to avoid losing my nerve and took off down the street to the place I picked. My mom called right before I got to the door, so I took her call and waved to her delighted on FaceTime. Grounded by the distance, more aware than ever that I was far, but I was there, and I was very alive. I made it. When we said our goodbyes, I noticed there was an outdoor patio space where a few of the late lunch goers lingered. I quickly decided, that wasn’t where I wanted to sit. The outdoor patio vibe was killed for me during covid. If I can dine in, I will dine in, no matter how beautiful the weather. So I walk inside and all my fears melt away. All of them. The ones about not liking it, and feeling unsafe, and being unsure, and being so afraid of everything. This place was a place where I belonged. I knew that as soon as I saw it. I chose my seat, but the seat chose me. The host probably wanted me somewhere unassuming and unseen, as it was virtually empty awaiting the dinner rush, but I thought quickly, about how in Seattle they made me sit at the diner counter instead of at the booth because I was alone. I didn’t want to risk being placed by asking, so I asked and sat at the same time. It’s harder to get someone up who’s already made themselves comfy in front of the live cooking show which was my view. Melting, melting, melting. I was in my own episode of Chef’s Table. I lightly brought the menu before me and I noted the word “seasonal”. I found the fish on the menu. The chocolate in dessert. I asked the sous chef how the trout would be cooked and alerted him of my texture issues, and he told me he’d be the one cooking it so he’d keep that in mind. My favorite way to eat and enjoy the world. Connected and conversational. Light but real. Alone, but never alone. 

It felt like I was apart of something so intimate yet so calculated. It was casual but serious and competitive but familial. It was fine dining by definition of me. I ordered everything I wanted. I ate, I ate, I nurtured my worry. With each bite, I promised myself that I would stop trying to starve fear, but to feed it perfectly cooked Spring trout, basil chocolate chip ice cream, and chocolate cake reminiscent of Matilda. Hug the fear, conceal it in the best things life has to offer, and maybe it won’t feel so bad.

I asked every question that came to mind, I took photos, and talked with the staff, the waitress jotted down a few take aways from the menu so I could elevate my cooking at home, and my love and I sent romantic text messages back and forth, falling deeper and deeper, thousands of miles away, yet closer than ever. I loved life in that restaurant. I saw the endless possibilities for the rest of the trip and also the rest of my life. It was one with the seasons, connected by love. Love of life, love of love, and love of adventure. In the right conditions, is how one blooms. 

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