Jovialism

Seattle, as seen from the Bainbridge Island Ferry

Seattle is a city I have heard many good things about, and I’ve got no shortage of friends there. Portland was great, far more enjoyable than I had expcted, but I anticipated appreciating Seattle even more. I was there for close to five days, and I had a lot of ground to cover.

But before I could start my Seattle adventures, I had to get there. Fly, drive, hitch?

Nope.

Amtrak.

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I love flying. I’ve been doing it all my life, and I still find myself glued to the window like a wide-eyed six year old. Something about the view, the sheer volume of new input, is a sort of addictive agent for me. There is so much to learn when you’re flying! Watching the continental steppes, and seeing land rippling like water dropped in a bucket. I’d never realized how beautiful and ugly the Great Salt Lake is, with green evaporation ponds and alkali salt flats. Not something I would want to live anywhere near, but so fascinating I didn’t looked away until we were over the airport.

Portland skyline, courtesy matt and tracy

The flight to Portland was significantly more dull, by dint of the fact that I didn’t have a window seat. I did notice something of interest however: looking behind me, it was a sea of white. All those passengers, and not a drop of token ethnic diversity. Bit of a surprise, that. I’ve gotten so accustomed to being surrounded by Chinese, Africans, South Americans, Indians, and all other races that it felt a little odd to be on an airplane filled with those of strictly European descent.

PDX is nice. Free wifi, bright open spaces, plenty of seating, ample electrical outlets, wine stores showcasing local product, and a reasonably priced light rail connection to downtown. What more could a Jovialist want? After a night hanging out with new friends, a Saturday morning trip into the downtown area was next. Read more »

In the past couple years, I’ve had a number of friends seep out to the Pacific Northwest. Several others have traveled there, bringing back tales of well-planned cities with good food and ample bicycle friendliness. After a couple of these reports came back with the urging of “You should go, you’ll like it there” followed by, “No, really, you’ll love it there”, I decided to do a trip. After much scheming, I determined the itinerary: I would fly into Portland, explore for a couple days, then head on to Seattle for a few more days, and finish up in Vancouver, British Columbia.

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As I walked home from work in the balmy afternoon the other day, I realized something very important has occurred: the vernal equinox has passed, and that means it’s time for ice cream! Not that I need an excuse, but if it’s warm enough for me to leave my jacket behind, it’s warm enough for ice cream.

So, I made my first Scoop DeVille trip of the season. If you’ve never been to Scoop DeVille before, here’s how it works: They have a fairly modest selection of ice cream, but their real strength is their collection of a hundred or so ice cream appurtenances. Everything from pretzels, cereals and candy bars to peanut butter, Nutella, and wasabi. These are all tossed in a hopper with your ice cream and a large, spinning screw descends. A couple applications of this descending your ice cream flows out the bottom in a smooth, homogeneous blend. Read more »

I often forget how much I adore Tria. While it’s a place I would make major housing decisions focused on keeping it within walking distance, I only manage to remind myself to visit every couple of months. I suppose this is partially because the place is so busy, and partially because I’m still pining for a third Tria in my neighborhood.

At any rate, I was there again this evening, for a light snack and then dinner with a friend. The weather was nice, people are starting to emerge from their winter hibernation, but haven’t quite moved on to summer estivation. I decided to end the afternoon with something on the lighter side, and then I could dive into the evening with something a bit bolder.

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Yes, friends and pastry lovers, it’s that one special time of the year that comes a couple days after St. Patrick’s Day and a few short moments before you finally and completely break your New Years resolution to eat better. It is Saint Joseph’s Day!

Who was Saint Joseph, and what did he do to deserve sainthood? Joseph was the father pro-temporal of Christ, but I have no idea what the pastries have to do with that. Today is the only day of the year you can get Zeppole, and my friends, they are worth the effort it takes to get them. An inspired combination of something like a cruller and a cannoli, these delicious pastries are a calorie-free (*ahem*) way to celebrate the onset of spring.

They are popular items, and they were sold out by the time I got to Termini Brothers at Reading Terminal this morning, shortly after 8. Termini Brothers at the Comcast tower had a fresh delivery shortly before 9, and if my buying habits are at all representative, they’ll go fast.

Take your opportunity to stop by one of the Termini locations and get a few. Your friends (and your gym trainer) will thank you.

-J

One of my (legion) difficulties with the PLCB monopoly is that one can have immense difficulty getting decent sake. Since I’m a regular sushi eater, I would like to be able to enjoy good sake with a bit more regularity.

Unfortunately, often all I’ve been able to find is a token bottle of Fu-Ki. Not ideal, especially since I’m usually buying just- in- time.

Imagine my surprise when I wander into the temperature and humidity controlled section of the 1913 Chestnut PLCB outpost and saw the pictured collection. I’d never seen it before, so it may be a new selection… But it was hidden in a corner, behind some boxes, under a sign labeled “Beware of the tiger”, so I could have simply missed it.

Now I know. And so do you.

-Jovialist

I stopped by La Colombe this morning to pick up a macchiato and welcome myself back into the city. As I waited in the surprisingly long line, I noticed something glimmering behind the counter. Peeking over the shoulder of the person in front of me, I saw what it was…

Pumps! Shiny new manual-pull pumps! They didn’t look to be brass, unfortunately, and the baristas are clearly still getting the hang of them, but I’m optimistic that the quality of the espresso at La Colombe is going to get even better in the weeks to come. They just got them installed last evening, so expect a bit of a learning curve as the baristas acclimate to the new pistons, getting the pressure and temperature just right, and tweaking their grind, so be patient and forgiving if your espresso is lacking a bit of crema.

Well, that didn’t last long. On Sunday, the baristas were rather harried, and it soon became clear why: One of the two new machines was broken, and the other had been broken on Saturday before being replaced. Additionally, the new machines, as promising as they were, simply didn’t have the throughput to handle the volume of customers La Colombe gets.

As much as I would love to see La Colombe migrate to proper pump-based shot-pulling, I can understand this decision: Even the best espresso in the world is no good if I don’t have time to wait for a shot. The new machines were installed on Thursday night, had two replacement installations by Sunday morning, and were gone in favor of the old machines by Monday morning.

Ah well. Maybe some day.

-Jovialist

Tom Block and his confectionery cadre of chocolate pushers must be stopped. I heard what I construed as lies, sweet little lies, about diabolical combinations of chocolate and (please no, oh please no) bacon.

Now, I’m pretty sure that the fruit in the garden was baconfruit, and we already know quite clearly what my feelings on chocolate are. So when presented with a mystery cupcake, only knowing that it involves bacon somehow, my assumption is that some brilliant member of the Conspiracy to Make Me Fat and Jolly has realized that, rather than simply use butter or lard to make delicious desserts, we can use bacon grease to make the desserts all the more addictive, and thus increment the specific gravity of a certain Jovialist.

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I’ve been asked by four people in completely unrelated sectors in my life, “Are you losing weight?” Now, my personal weight-tracking methodology is no more complex than “Can I still fit into the clothes I like to wear?”, and as such leaves some acuity lacking. Therefore, I haven’t really had an answer for these queries beyond, “Erm, I could be?”

Nevertheless, the Conspiracy to Make Me Fat and Jolly continues. I have regularly been walking past a new storefront with pink script in the window proclaiming “Brown Betty Petite”. I had been assuming that this was a new clothing store for women of color, only to realize around the time that the baking sheet tray carts showed up in the window that perhaps this was something a bit more in my demographic. Walking past this evening, I noticed it was open, and there were pastry display cases. Going in was less of a decision and more of a reflex.

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