I officially love Portland.

I was so turned on by the wild salmon hash at Mother's Bistro & Bar (in Portland, OR) that I decided to write about it--I'm much in favor of using language to get at what turns us on, after all. I was tired of my own bellybutton over at Shehun's House of Why, and I thought it might be time to focus. And, so, welcome to the new blog, complete with the cast of characters (and then some) from the old blog. I have so many foodie friends with varying levels of expertise that I should have material for weeks and weeks. Tater's knowledge of coffee alone would keep us occupied through spring '08.

Thursday, April 27: The LAW and I walked through drizzly downtown Portland to get to Mother's, a place she'd tracked down on some online eating guide. I'd just wanted to go there because I'd seen an advertisement in the promotional crap in the hotel. The ad boasted a rather, hmmm, severe-looking woman reminiscent of my Great-Aunt Pencie, who I only met once, on a Thanksgiving, and who spent part of the day spitting nonchalantly into the kitchen sink. More on that later. Maybe. Or wait, no, that's enough on Pencie. Anyway, in the Mother's ad, the woman was saying, "Give me dumplings or give me death." I'll tell you, after several weeks of trying to eat with my health in mind, death-dumplings were mighty appealing.

What was it about the hash? I'll admit that I figured the hash would be like the gooey corned-beef-hash paste that you get in cans, only with salmon. I ordered it anyway (I don't mind the paste so much, since it reminds me of camping in the Canadian Rockies in '86 with the Finn--my taste in food tends to be heavily influenced by memory and tendresse). Actually, however, Mother's potatoes and salmon chunks were discrete, marble-sized, in a very light cream glaze and sprinkled with leeks. I ate the hash, along with two eggs (over medium, thanks very much), and drank a lot of strong coffee that, really, you can only get in the Pacific Northwest. And then, the next day, I came back for more. And two days later, I went back with a new group and had a third serving. As Tater might say, it was foodgasmic.