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Kon-suming Passions

Fans and Friends Descend on Portland for Northwest Tiki Kon 2010

Photos by Jennifer Ragan-Fore

This article appeared this week in the summer issue of Tiki Magazine. I've really enjoyed my acquaintance with Portland's Team Tiki, and was really pleased I had a chance to document their summer 2010 adventures... even if the vagaries of a quarterly publishing schedule did mean that the article about the 2010 Kon came out after the 2011 Kon was completed. Whoops.

I have to admit I absolutely love writing for Tiki Magazine. It's not my best-paying gig (seriously, how could it be?), but there's just something about wiritng about one's passions, and about people one finds fascinating (and who seem genuinely grateful for the coverage), that makes it worthwhile. Getting to attend these events gratis ain't too shabby, neither. Mahalo, Tiki Magazine! Mahalo, TikiKon ohana!

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The lights, like the music, are low. The food is greasy and filling. And the company can’t be beat. It’s the perfect environment to nurse a Sunday morning hangover.

Scott McGerik looks up from the kalua pork, macaroni salad, and other assorted Hawaiian delicacies sharing room on his brunch plate with mainland fare like scrambled eggs and fruit. “It’s a shame how few people appreciate something like this,” he pronounces, gesturing with his knife at a glowing red lantern.

McGerik, a computer programmer visiting the northwest from Minnesota, is clad in an aloha shirt and a turquoise lei. He’s seated next to his similarly-attired wife Kat, a nurse and massage therapist, in a comfortable curving booth at the back of The Alibi Bar and Restaurant, a Portland, Oregon tiki bar dating back to the 1940s. The McGeriks have traveled to the Northwest to celebrate with like-minded tiki fanatics at Northwest Tiki Kon VIII, with the incredible theme of “Atomic Tiki.”

You and Me and the Bottle Makes Three

The 2010 Kon officially kicked off the night before, with an evening of food, follies, and friends at Tony Starlight's Supper Club. With handcrafted items for sale by tropikitschy vendors, the Kon offered a sort of tropical-themed Etsy in the club’s entryway.

History in the Making

A Springfield café connects past and future

Photo by Kai Hayashi

With this article, which appeared in Eugene's Weekly's January 26 winter Chow! guide, I sadly bid a fond adieu to able editrix Molly Templeton, who has fled the charms of the Le Eug for trendy, trendy Brooklyn. Molly has been a consistent advocate for my writing, and was even supportive of me in what bordered on a quixotic campaign to interview Gail Simone. As usual, I tried sneaking some local history stuff into this non-history article.

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Downtown Springfield’s Main Street strip continues to tread the line between gentrified and generally sketchy. And the permanent closure of Ruthie B’s Antiques in a couple of weeks marks the end of one of the neighborhood’s anchoring storefronts.

But last May saw the addition of the Washburne Café, a homey breakfast and lunch place just down the street. 

“I wanted to create a place that I’d like to go, that was comfortable and welcoming,” says café owner Karen Hageman. Originally from New Jersey, Hageman says the Washburne is her first foray into restaurant ownership after stints in construction, real estate and retail. 

At breakfast time, Hageman’s new venture serves various egg dishes with cibatta toast, including a “Washburne bowl” with eggs, meat and potatoes. Lunchtime fare includes paninis on locally-baked focaccia, as well as house-made soups. The chicken salad wrap is especially tasty and includes cucumbers and cranberries in the mix. Fluffy, house-made baked goods include tropical fruit scones and peach muffins, complemented by a coffee bar ... and free Wi-Fi.

“It’s getting busier all the time as word gets out,” says Hageman.

And she seems to be right. During a recent visit at almost 2 pm on a weekday afternoon, the lunch rush had yet to abate. The crowd proved eclectic, too. Some patrons read while dining alone. A couple of parents had children in tow. A group of college students, laptops and calculators spread across a round table by the window, discussed APR and interest rates.

Continue reading "History in the Making" at Eugene Weekly.

Celebrating Hard Times

Local craft distillery gives Eugene a buzz

My able editrix for this piece asked that, if I was going to write for a second time about my buddy James and his bootleggin', I'd have to identify myself as his friend, make it clear we have a personal connection. That was a good idea. The line between business reporting and nepotism can grow mighty thin when covering local folks. One thing that made it simpler was the fact that I honest-to-God find James' and Dudley's efforts fascinating. The boys, James in particular, have been striving for so long to reach this level, that it's really gratifying seeing them hit the mark. Cheers, gents!

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The last time I wrote in these pages about the liquor-distilling ventures of my friend James Stegall (“Money Where the Mouth Is,” 3/13/08), he had a different business partner, a different company name and a different plan for his product line. 

He also had 100,000 fewer miles on his car’s odometer, now the legacy of commuting among a day job in Albany, his home base in Eugene and the clean and earthy refurbished granary in Monroe he shares with business partner Dudley Clark and two stills composed of copper tubing and stainless steel.

They make an unlikely pair, smooth-headed, thirtysomething Stegall, and Clark with his longish silver hair and swashbuckler’s goatee. “We don’t always see eye to eye,” says Clark, “but James and I have figured how to be partners in a very deep sense. Almost like brothers.”

It’s been a busy fall season for these almost-brothers and their business, now christened Hard Times Distillery. After more than two years of work fueled by a loan and training courses courtesy of Lane County’s Entrepreneurial Development Services (eDev), their product finally hit liquor store shelves in early October.

Continue reading "Celebrating Hard Times" at Eugene Weekly.

Summer Vacation: Tiki Travelogue

A couple of weeks ago, the First Lady of Inkville attended a work conference in her professional capacity. I tagged along to Los Angeles in a decidedly un-professional capacity. Still addled on the rum-soaked fumes of the Northwest TikiKon earlier this month, I decided to cram as much Polynesian pop as possible into my visit, with one goal in mind: Tiki pilgrimage.

And what Los Angeles Tiki travel would be complete without a visit to the Enchanted Tiki Room in Disneyland? The entirety of the Adventureland portion of the park is pretty Tiki-tastic, but the Tiki room (complete with its delicious and overpriced pineapple Dole whip) remains the Genesis moment for many Tikiphiles' obsession, including that of your intrepid guide.

Spoiler alert: those Tikis totally come to life.

After working up a sweat escaping the Haunted Mansion and whining about the insertion of Johnny Depp mannequins into the original Pirates of the Caribbean, we adjourned to downtown L.A. to quench our thirst at the Trader Vic's:

Beyond the Walls of the Restaurant

Dealing as it does with Eugene's Marché restaurant, this is a little companion piece to my article "Salve, Sfizio." Both appeared in Eugene Weekly's summer Chow! Guide. And, dealing as it does with our charming First Lady and a visit to the White House, this seemed an appropriate post for the 4th of July weekend. Happy Independence Day!

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The term “pro bono” more likely conjures images of legal briefs and power suits than it does freshly-sliced rhubarb or the stark whites of a professional chef. But Stephanie Pearl Kimmel, founding chef and owner of Eugene’s Marché, will be cooking and consulting for free in the coming months as part of First Lady Michelle Obama’s Chefs Move to Schools initiative. 

As one foot soldier in an army of white-clad chefs invited to Washington, D.C., last weekend, Kimmel and her cohort got their marching orders on the White House lawn, directly from the First Lady. 

The Chefs Move to Schools project is part of the wider “Let’s Move!” initiative to combat childhood obesity, and ultimately to strengthen the federal Child Nutrition program that feeds kids in schools.

“A third of our schoolchildren [in the U.S.] are overweight or obese,” says Kimmel, who cites the “lost creativity, lost contributions and eventually just the medical costs” of that sorry state as major problems for the nation, down the line.

Continue reading "Beyond the Walls of the Restaurant" at Eugene Weekly.

Orgeat in Oregon

Thatch Tiki Bar weaves a tasty cocktail in Portland

Photos by Jennifer Ragan-Fore

You know, when it comes down to it, this is really what it's all about. This article ran in the Summer 2010 issue of Tiki Magazine. There are more lucrative freelance opportunities out there, sure. But what beats writing about one's passion? And what can I say? It is a true honor to see my byline in a publication just a few pages away from that of Tiki-riffic author and critic James Teitelbaum, and both Blair Reynolds and Robert Voltz were responsive and engaging interview subjects.

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It might be easy to overlook the unassuming exterior of Thatch Tiki Bar, nestled as it is among row shops and the craftsman-style homes of Portland’s trendy northeast side. But a number of mature live palm trees line a parking lot across the street, even here in the soggy northwest. Consider it a promising omen from the gods.

Besides, isn’t that what the Polynesian Pop lifestyle is all about… savage passions and animal instincts, tucked away under cover of a civilized urban veneer? Thatch’s husband-and-wife owners Robert and Theresa Voltz understand, and have even employed the Tiki bar tradition of creating a sort of entryway grotto separating the “real world” from Thatch’s friendly, cave-like confines: to enter, bargoers must cross a short bridge over a shallow pool ornamented with giant shells and Maori-style weaponry. That’s right: just a few feet from the traffic of Northeast Broadway lies a moat.

Entering the tidily cluttered 1400-square foot space, visitors are greeted by a midcentury modern Mecca: the ironwood bar is accentuated by cheerful orange chairs--“all genuine Herman Miller,” Voltz says proudly--and booths that hail from a Denny’s. The décor is fabulously tropikitschy, as may be expected, with velvet paintings by the Pander Brothers, one even featuring pop culture patron saint Michael Jackson.

Salve, Sfizio

Oakway Center welcomes Italian dining with Osteria Sfizio

Photo by Trask Bedortha

This article appeared in Eugene Weekly's summer Chow! Guide, which came out on June 10. Local celebrity chefs tend to have big personalities, and Rocky was no exception (as is evidenced by the below photo). That makes them fun interview subjects, especially when they're starting a new venture. It's kind of charming to watch a grown man boyishly wax eloquent about his new digs, like Ralphie breathlessly enthusing to Santa about his Red Ryder BB gun. And hey, why not? Creating a new restaurant or watering hole, especially in this economy, is certainly something to crow about. You rock, Rocky.

Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to try the food, as the kitchen wasn't complete at the time of the interview. I think we're going to go check out the restaurant this weekend, though.

Shout-out to Google Translate, which always looks makes me look way more educated than I really am. Bello!

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In a large cardboard box situated behind the snappy-looking host station of Osteria Sfizio, the new Italian restaurant opening at Oakway Center, an impressive collection of cookbooks waits. The books are destined to be arranged not 10 feet away in a special bookcase designed especially for them. They’ll be the first sight to greet diners as they enter the restaurant.

 

While it seems unlikely he actually needs all those cookbooks, the fact they’ll remain a prominent part of the décor demonstrates that their owner, Rocky Maselli, is proud of his roots, of the influences that have shaped his culinary habits. This ethic extends to his new digs as well.

Osteria Sfizio, Maselli’s new dining venue, opens June 18 and will dish up homey Italian cooking seven days a week, including brunch on weekends, in a relaxed yet refined atmosphere. Sfizio is situated on the north end of Oakway Center’s Heritage Courtyard (and, in what may be perceived as a cruel irony, next door to Weight Watchers).

“For me, this is a natural,” says Maselli, who says he has designed Sfizio’s menu to be “a little less foofy, a little more Italian.”

Maselli may want his new menu to go light on the foof, but opening night patrons are still more likely to dine on rabbit cacciatore or fried oxtail than on chicken parm. And little wonder: Maselli has worked at Marché, a cornerstone of high-end Eugene dining, since 1998. He became executive chef in 2004 and general manager in 2006. “I’m still a partner at Marché,” Maselli says, “but all my focus is here.”  

Continue reading "Salve, Sfizio" at Eugene Weekly.

The Starburst "Contradiction" Commerical

As a professional marketer, editor, and writer, I prize specificity. This particular advertisement...

...makes want to throw things at the TV for three distinct reasons:

• As these characters appear to be of Korean descent and living in Scotland, they would in fact be Korean-Scotch (or Korean-Scottish?), rather than "Scotch-Korean."
• Being of Korean descent but living in Scotland is no more an actual contradiction than Alanis Morissette's "ironies" are actually ironic.
• And besides, is it really so far-fetched that folks of Asian descent would live in Scotland? A 2001 demographic study, in fact, lists 0.4% of United Kingdom residents as "Other Asian (non-Chinese)," and that's not even including other line items for "Pakistani" and "Indian."

That's right, baby. Welcome to Inkville: doing the important work of deconstructing candy ads since 2008.

Chewing the Fat

Momma's Kitchen brings barbecue to downtown Springfield

Photos by Todd Cooper

It's tough reviewing a local business when the review isn't going to be all that glowing. This article, which appeared in Eugene Weekly's spring Chow! guide, required me, with the help of able editirix Molly Templeton, to make a call on just how aggro I wanted to be in discussing this place's culinary offerings. Trust me, this printed version isn't nearly so hardcore in slamming the food as was draft 1. I guess this is a sort of "damning with faint praise" situation. On the bright side, hey, check out the as-usual fine photographic work of Todd Cooper!

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Entering Momma’s Kitchen, one of the first things to catch my eye is a gleaming white host station, styled a bit like a church pulpit. The walls are a matching pure white, adorned with a framed print depicting an energetic African-American church service. Contemporary gospel music blares from a boom box by the kitchen.

With a restaurant that seems to be so much about the churchgoing experience, it’s amazing that Aline “Momma” Austin and Marian Austin, the mother-daughter team behind the Eugene-Springfield area’s newest Southern-style eatery, once served food in a nightclub. Aline Austin used to prepare and sell soul food at the Taboo club, now The Blueprint. “She couldn’t do the nightlife,” Marian says of her mother. “Her friends couldn’t even come there at all. She’s a churchgoing woman.”

The personable, gray-haired Aline does seem an unlikely candidate for slinging hash in a late-night hotspot. Originally from Alabama, Aline married a man from Texas, creating an impeccable pedigree for her barbecue. She imported her cooking chops, and her family, to Safford, Ariz., a small city just two hours to the northeast of Tucson. That’s where Aline raised Marian, along with her five sisters and three brothers. 

“We lived in a little community where all the African-American people lived,” a place called Little Hollywood, Marian says. “That was all we grew up with: Southern dishes, Southern food. We didn’t know it was a delicacy” until they moved to Oregon in 1985, following Marian’s eldest sister.

Here in the Willamette Valley, Marian decorated cakes for a living, while her mother worked as a care provider for senior citizens. Aline noted that some of her elderly charges lost their appetites as they aged, but “When she cooked, they ate,” reports Marian.

The nightclub location followed, but the opening of the current Momma’s Kitchen in June of last year, in a space formerly occupied by a St. Vincent de Paul at the corner of Main and 5th in Springfield, feels truer to Aline Austin’s roots and clientele.

Continue reading "Chewing the Fat" at Eugene Weekly.

Deep-Fried Soul

"I have some bad news," my wife said as she climbed into the passenger seat. It's not what you want to hear when picking your wife up from work, especially in a week in which death has seemed to shadow us and our loved ones at every corner. News of the passing of Ted "Papa Soul" Lee, an institution in the Eugene music and culinary scenes, has left me saddened.

I interviewed Papa for a grad school writing project, hanging around his restaurant a few times over the course of a week in 2007, notebook in hand. Papa was wary of me at first. His star was on the rise, and he'd been interviewed a number of times by various news outlets. My brand of narrative writing, though, calls for some good old-fashioned depth reporting, and Papa couldn't quite seem to put his finger on why I'd want to bum around in his joint multiple nights in a row, and scribble down what his regulars were saying to one another. He was always hospitable, however, even when I'd only buy a single beer and nurse it over an hour. Papa loosened up after I'd questioned him a bit, once he realized I was an ex-pat Southerner who, like Papa himself, was trying to make sense of his own lineage and cultural inheritance.

And when the article appeared in Eugene Magazine, in much-truncated form, Papa framed it and hung it on his restaurant's wall. In a way, having the man memorialize my writing that way was significant for me, perhaps even more so than it was for him: having a respected businessman value my work enough to have it framed was a big mental boost for a young writer, and gave me the confidence to approach other interview subjects fearlessly. I guess I have always thought of the man as a sort of spiritual benefactor, even if he never knew it. In fact, that grinning photo of me you see above and to the right was taken on the sidewalk in front of his place.

And what's more, Papa never forgot me, and hailed me warmly each time he saw me. (A perk of being a reviewer, to be sure.) He was a man with an enormous appetite for life, for both its nurturing and destructive sides... including some rougher elements (drug use, response to racism, a deadbeat father) that were understandably scrubbed by my editor for publication in a lifestyle magazine. And while I understand why the piece had to be gutted, I've always felt something was lost in translation. This seems an appropriate occasion to recognize the life and the works of Ted Lee, to mark what the man stood for.

So I hope my readers will indulge me in this, perhaps the longest blog entry I've posted, the unexpurgated, original version of "Deep-Fried Soul."

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It’s past the dinner hour, and most of the restaurant’s dining customers are on their way out the door, bellies and doggie bags full. In less than an hour the regular Thursday night reggae jam will usher in a new clientele, and in one corner of the tiny Victorian bungalow’s front room, a couple of DJs are already pulling tables into a makeshift desk for their sound equipment. The sound system is cranking out the cream of Motown and soul, all African-American artists. From the kitchen, a cook’s voice wavers as he sings along with “Heat Wave” by Martha and the Vandellas. A young waitress joins in under her breath and she putters about behind the front counter.

Peering down at the waitress from the upper echelons of the liquor rack that crowns the front counter, a rubber ducky with James Brown’s distinctive locks mugs next to a peeved-looking Snoop Dogg action figure. They’re mirrored on the opposite side by a grinning Louis Armstrong figurine. The walls of the cottage are plastered with retro-styled posters and “outsider art” featuring black musicians, Robert Johnson and Lightnin’ Hopkins and Jimmy Hendrix and Stevie Wonder. An oil painting features a large, heavily-tattooed man wailing away on a harmonica.