BaltimOregon

Bluegrass band playing at Squirrel's Tavern tonight.

I’m embarrassed to say we’ve only been to the best bar in Corvallis twice. Hopefully we will make Squirrel’s Tavern a more frequent habit. They offer a tremendous selection of local microbrews on draft and grill up some luscious burgers. Someday we’ll try the Squirrel Burger (topped with a fried egg and ham). Or gross?

The bar was jam-packed tonight with a festive crowd for a fundraiser for the local wildlife rescue center. The local Oregon Trail Brewery donated kegs of its nut brown ale; all proceeds went to the animal shelter. We munched on free roasted hazelnuts and listened to a bluegrass band playing in the eves.

Great burgers and brews in a vintage wood-paneled pub. My father-in-law about died and went to heaven there.

I had an Indian mehndi henna painting done on my hand Saturday at Fireworks, the localvore Southtown Corvallis restaurant owned by my friend Intaba. These fun hippy things just come to you in Oregon. You don’t even have to seek them out.

Kailyn did my hand up with some feathery lotus pattern. I love the tingle as the henna penetrates the skin and dries. I thought of my Bangladeshi students, who painted my hand at their house for Eid. Next time I’ll have to get my chest done!

From the Philip Gourevitch reading at Powell's

I’m still in cultural shock living here away from the thriving pulse of an urban center. So everytime I’m in Portland, I find an excuse to go to Powell’s Books. I’ve ordered obscure used books from them online since college, but only since moving here did I enter the temple to all things literary on West Burnside.

Even my parents, who were like why are we wasting a precious Portland day in a bookstore, were enthralled once inside.

Powell’s schedule of nightly author readings is perhaps what most tempts me from here in Corvallis. I did get to hear Philip Gourevitch, editor of the Paris Review, recently read from the quarterly’s new collection of interviews. His harrowing account of the Rwandan genocide is one of the best non-fiction books I’ve read.

In these times of journalistic distopia, it was heartening to hear Gourevitch’s defense of reportage. “Mainstream American fiction underwhelms in it’s ability to dramatize the same level of human experience,” Gourevitch said.

But amid economic collapse, fiction is still a seductive escape. I’m anxious to read Marilynne Robinson’s Home after her interview in this Paris Review.

The author interview is an under-appreciated art. As an English major alienated by lit criticism, an interview with author Can Xue in China set me on a path, for better or worse, towards journalism.

Blue Corn Crusted Tempeh with Shitake Mushroom Gravy

I love ordering tempeh at vegetarian restaurants but never know how to cook it at home. The substantive fermented soy cakes make a great meat substitute.

So this Blue Corn Crusted Tempeh recipe on “The Splendid Table” radio show grabbed me. And I had shitake mushrooms in the fridge, so I paired it with the savory gravy. It was somewhat involved, but about as good as a tempeh recipe can get, Dan said. Well, it still doesn’t compare to the yummy sesame tempeh here in Corvallis.

Being under-employed, I was grateful and surprised to receive a $128 check from Baltimore Gas and Electric in Corvallis today. I assume that’s our part of BGE’s $2 billion settlement with parent company Constellation Energy that I forget we were due. Too bad those credits were barely expected to cover the increased heating costs this year.

So far, Pacific Power here in Oregon seems slightly-more consumer friendly. At least being a Pacific Power customer entitles us to an Energy Trust home efficiency audit, which we are having performed tomorrow.

Carnitas and Lenga Tacos at Tacos Uruapan

It’s not hard to exhaust the dining options in small-town Corvallis. And unfortunately many of the restaurants here are expensive (perhaps to make up for inconsistent traffic). Corvallis cuisine could also stand to gain more ethnic diversity.

So Tacos Uruapan, an inconspicuous joint on 3rd St. on the industrial outskirts of Southtown Corvallis, is a rare gem. We devoured two steaming dinner platters, of carnitas (roast pork) and lengua (beef tongue) tacos and chile relenos, plus a Pepsi, for $16.50. The pork and especially the tongue were succulent with just enough grease, cut with squeezes of salsa verde and fresh lime. I love the bare-bones simplicity of authentic Mexican tacos in soft corn tortillas: chunks of braised meat, onion or radish and cilantro, with no distracting tomatoes, guacamole, sour cream or cheese. Think outside the border, indeed.

A cute indigenous Mexican couple from Oaxaca spoke little English but said they had run the restaurant for two years. Many of the Mexicans here hail from the culinary-rich state of Oaxaca, the one place in Mexico we’ve been. The owners of Tacos Uruapan reminded us of the Indo-Trinidadian couple who ran perhaps our favorite takeout spot in Baltimore: the Trinidad Gourmet. Wife in the kitchen, husband taking the orders at the counter. But thankfully the food comes out much more quickly at Tacos Uruapan.

The Benton County Courthouse in downtown Corvallis: the oldest still-active one in Oregon.

Crazy. For the second year in a row, Corvallis has been ranked the safest place to live by Farmers Insurance Group. “Corvallis isn’t the real world,” my Bostonian friend Dorothea likes to say.

Now you see why we’re having such culture shock coming here from Baltimore, one of the deadliest American cities. And yet I still ache for the place.

I was especially thankful for turkey this year, because I hand-selected our bird at a local farm and participated in its slaughter and butchering in a visceral, almost spiritual way. Why would I subject myself to the blood and gore? And how could that not make you go vegetarian and swear off poultry forever?

But I am increasingly convinced the more we know about our food — where it was cultivated, who tended it and under what conditions — the more it fully nourishes us as we humbly accept our place in the web of life. Our massive tom turkey came from Afton Field Farm on the rural outskirts of Corvallis. Little did I know I could take part in the butchering when we ordered it at the farmers’ market in October.

But the farm’s young proprietor Tyler Jones invited us out and so I went. The Corvallis native and OSU grad learned how to run a small-scale sustainable livestock operation while interning with Joel Salatin of Polyface Farm in Virginia, which featured in Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma.

Afton Field Farm raised about 55 turkeys this year, slaughtering, cleaning and packaging them on the Friday before Thanksgiving on the grounds of Jones’ wooded childhood home near Bald Hill Park.

The first bird I pointed out seemed too wimpy, but little did I know the next one I selected was a whopping 26.8 pounds, the second biggest the farm sold. We’ll be eating turkey tacos, soups and casseroles for the next year!

Then its neck is slit in a pain-minimizing kosher-style way that people have used to slaughter their meat for thousands of years. It just felt right. These turkeys had a good life at Afton Farm and are hopefully meeting a relatively painless end.

Thank goodness we didn’t have to pluck the feathers by hand. Instead, the birds were scalded in hot water and choppily spun around in an open washing machine.

Feeling and learning about the turkey’s internal organs were another treat (and the warm cavity felt good to the hands on the briskly cold day). I helped them rip the head off, cut the feet, remove the esophagus and wind pipe and gut the bird. I also cut open the giblet gizzard (what’s the difference between the two, again?) to remove the sack of grass and rocks and other debris turkey and chickens ingest when they peck at their food.

Though trying, the experience didn’t gross me out. I came to the Thanksgiving table with a renewed sense of reverence. And the turkey, which we gave a salt rub the night before, tasted better than ever this year.

Craig Robinson at Portland Community College/Flickr/Creative Commmons http://www.flickr.com/photos/barackobamadotcom/2972043543/

We didn’t know who to root for: Dan’s alma mater or his current employer? The scrappy land-grant institution or the snooty Ivy League? But Oregon State played a sloppy, clumsy game. They can’t shoot. These guys are just choking under pressure. So Yale won 52-53. It shouldn’t have even been a close game.

Man, does Robinson wish he had never left Brown? Can he turn things around? Is everyone just too distracted by the football team’s success? Or by the Obama win? And how many of the 3,413 fans at Gill Coliseum tonight were more interested in seeing Robinson than the team? Wonder who will last longer in Corvallis: him or us?

Over-flowing pile of canned goods collected for food bank.

There’s nothing like a party to make your living quarters feel tight. And we thought our two-bedroom home was way too spacious for us. Our neighbors, Dan’s economics colleagues and other Corvallis folks we’ve befriended made merry with us for several hours this evening.

But with Oregon’s growing hunger crisis (third highest rate in the nation), all celebrations are tinged with sadness this time of year. We asked folks to bring donations we will deliver to the Linn-Benton Food Share. It was a simple gesture people really seemed to respond to. Our guests also came bearing gifts of Oregon pinot noirs. We will enjoy those over Thanksgiving!

We served those lamb meatballs I mentioned, chanterelle mushroom and delicata squash pizzas, pecan goat cheese balls, other cheeses and pickled grapes and prunes. Tangy, spicy brines really transform those fruits, which go nicely with a cheese plate. Read more about making the unusual pickles here. They were a cinch to make!

Pickled grapes and pickled prunes