Millie Bea

Hard to say goodbye to PDX, but seeing my beautiful niece Millie Bea softened the blow. Any time she is concentrating hard on something, that adorable tongue of hers is out. It's pretty much the cutest thing ever.

Parks > Parking

Peninsula Park in NE Portland, just a short walk from my sister's home. Gorgeous rose gardens, beautiful fountains, great public playground and pool. As Heather & I were here basking in the sun on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, I was hoping Detroit had figured out a way to preserve the Parks & Recreation budget. City parks are so important. Do I even have to explain why? (Nah, probably not.)

Orzo

Impromptu dinner: Salmon, spinach, red onions & orzo. So simple, so good.

Water & Wine

On Friday, Heather & I headed west to the coast so I could dip my toe in the icy cold Pacific. The 90-mile drive from Portland to Cannon Beach is one of my favorites -- just leaving "Bridgetown" is pretty spectacular, cruising over the Willamette River with the city below and mountains beyond. Then, once you're out, there's virtually no icky suburban sprawl -- just miles and miles of natural beauty. (Thank you, Urban Growth Boundary.)  

First stop: Lunch at Bill's Tavern & Brewhouse in Cannon Beach. Shrimp Sandwich for me, Ahi Tuna Salad for H. (Oh, and my delish sandwich came with cheddar from Tillamook, just down the road.) Bill's was cute, and Cannon Beach is super cute. Reminds me of New England, with all that seaside wood cladding I love:

H & I enjoyed a nice long walk on the beach. The clouds parted, the sun smiled, and the breeze was divine. Kites + sand castles + fond memories of family vacations past = happy, happy.

 

 

After ice cream cones & a stroll through town, we pointed the car towards Willamette Valley wine country. When I was here two years ago with Heather & our wine lover friend Liz, we did a proper tasting tour -- Argyle, The Four Graces, Domaine Serene, Scott Paul & more. This time, we arrived after most tasting rooms had closed, but enjoyed a lovely rose at The Horseradish bar in downtown Carlton, and then a sunset dinner (and more wine, of course) under an umbrella on the veranda of Cana's Feast Winery:

Dinner was superb, the dessert especially divine. But really what I loved most was watching the sun set slowly over the rolling hills of the vineyard estate. 

(Note to self: Own a vineyard someday. Or better yet, persuade a friend.)

Camp Population Doubles

Summer Camp PDX is super excited to welcome our esteemed guest camper, the lovely Ms. Heather Franzese, who flew up from San Francisco for the long weekend. 

Unfortunately H's check-in time was a little later than scheduled. Her airport driver (who shall remain nameless) was cruisin' along and rockin' out to Jay-Z, when all of the sudden she spotted the most breathtaking view of Mount Hood and totally sped past the exit.

Thank God for those "Welcome to Washington" signs. You know, crossing state lines is usually a good clue that you've gone too far. Also, they really shouldn't put airports in such beautiful locations. Just sayin'.

Besides that minor delay, H's visit started as all good reunions should: with a marathon catch-up conversation over two bottles of Chardonnay from the local Argyle Winery. Ms. Franzese recently launched the Fair Trade Apparel program for Transfair USA (huzzah, you can now buy fair trade clothing!), so she had lots of interesting stories about her factory visits and negotiations around the globe.

Lights out at 2:30 AM -- not bad for two old ladies. Next stop: Pacific Ocean...

Salmon & Sweet Potatoes

Salmon, sweet potatoes, spinach & shallots. (All foods that begin with an "s" apparently.) Super yum.

Scallop & Spinach Salad

Okay, this was so delicious I have to record the recipe so I'll remember to make it again. It calls for large sea scallops, but mine were more petite.

Scallop and Spinach Salad with Bacon Vinaigrette

Serves 4

6 slices bacon, chopped

1/2 medium red onion, sliced thin

1 teaspoon sugar

1/4 cup cider vinegar

2 tablespoons whole-grain mustard

1 1/2 pounds of large sea scallops

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 package baby spinach

salt & pepper

1. Cook bacon in large skillet over medium heat until crisp. Remove bacon and pour off all but 1/4 cup bacon fat from skillet. Add onion and sugar to skillet and cook until softened, about 3 minutes. Add vinegar and mustard, scraping up any browned bits. Transfer dressing to large bowl; cover to keep warm.

2. Season scallops with salt and pepper. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in skillet over high heat until just smoking. Add scallops and cook until well browned, about 1 1/2 minutes per side. (Do this in two batches for crisp, well-browned exterior.)

3. Toss spinach with dressing and season with salt and pepper. Top with scallops and bacon and serve.

Um, yum.

Beet & Bacon Salad

This was a yummy salad I made for lunch the other day. No recipe, just kind of a mash-up of random ingredients I needed to use up. Fresh mixed greens tossed in a mustard vinaigrette with beets, hard-boiled eggs and a little bacon sprinkled on top. (I was supposed to lay off the red meat, but another recipe called for it, so I couldn't let the extra go to waste right?)

Snacking

I'm the worst when it comes to snacking. I have a salty tooth and I love a good crunch, which usually leads me to very bad things. I've been trying to come up with some healthier alternatives at Summer Camp, and here are two. Edamame was my midnight snack yesterday. Always delicious. Today for lunch I made a crabmeat dip with fresh herbs, celery, lemon juice, a little horseradish and other stuff (but no mayo, my other weakness). It was...well...good enough! At least it kept me away from the homemade brownies my sister left in her freezer...

Picnic Fun

Ooooh, why didn't I stumble upon these awesome Picnic Boxes from Boxsal when I was looking for some earlier this summer? (I really gotta check Design Sponge more.) Thirty-five bucks and compostable plates, cups & utensils. Or maybe the clever Matthew Naimi can create a Detroit version for next season? In my dreams, I would even go a step further and have local eateries like Mudgie's and Russell Street Deli fill them with yummy picnic treats for impromptu Belle Isle outings. How much would folks pay for this, I wonder?

Barbequed Pork & Pineapple

I don't know exactly what to call this dish. No recipe, just tossing a bunch of odds & ends together. Maybe a Hawaiian Taco? My initial intention was a Vietnamese Spring Roll, but I couldn't get the rice paper wraps to soften and roll just right. Anyway, it's a tortilla filled with barbequed pork, shrimp & pineapple with cilantro garnish. If you haven't noticed from previous posts, I'm basically sprinkling cilantro on everything these days. Oh-so-good.

Why Camp

My little Summer Camp session here in Portland is inspired, in part, by my childhood camp experience. Yes, before I became a big city girl, I portaged a canoe or two. (This is why I'm so solid, Patrick Thompson.)

Every summer as a teenager (7th-12th grade, I think?) I went to this magical place called Camp Manito-wish in northern Wisconsin. Three weeks of canoeing, kayaking, swimming, sailing, horseback riding, nature walks, archery, riflery, crafting and singing around the campfire in the Northwoods. 

I knew it was a special place because my mother, who had also gone to camp as a child, said, "Wow, this is nice. Really Claire, not all camps are this nice."

We reluctantly turned in our candy bars and hair-dryers and hand-held devices (then Walkmen) at the registration desk. No television, no telephones, no clocks. You knew it was mealtime when you heard the bell toll at Nash Lodge. 

God, how I loved to hear that bell -- especially when we were stuck in the nature lodge with all that creepy taxidermy. (I preferred arts & crafts so I could weave my lanyard bracelets, thank you very much.)

All first-year campers were sent out on a 3-day canoe trip through the streams and lakes of the Manitowish Waters. We packed and carried everything we needed (tents, stoves, pots & pans, food, rain gear), and we paddled and portaged our own canoes. The camp sites we frequented were not the kind with RV hook-ups and toilets. In fact, I think somewhere I still have my copy of the highly acclaimed, bestselling book that should be owned by every adventure-seeker:

Life "on the trail" (as we intrepid sojourners called it), was not all sunsets and s'mores. Sometimes Mother Nature would be good to us, other times not so much. "Wet" and "heavy" are the first words that come to mind. Tears were shed and terse words exchanged. And remember, we were too young for booze, which is really such a vital component of most adult outdoor recreation if you think about it. It was always good to get back home.

As campers progressed through their years at Manito-wish, the trips became longer, more challenging and further afield. Five days, seven days, 14 days. Backpacking in the Porcupine Mountains, treks through Isle Royale National Park. The reward, of course, for longer journeys with more challenging terrain was sweeping views of Lake Superior. Oh, and maybe bragging rights when you returned to school in the fall. ("What did you do this summer?")

After my 14-day trip, I would have been happy to retire my camper card and call it a day. Even then, I aspired to be "cosmopolitan" and liked magazines and movies more than muddy, mosquito-y wilderness. But there was an expectation I would continue for at least one more year. I had now graduated from basic camp to the big-kids Outpost program, and the next rung on the ladder was "The Western."  

Here's the description, straight from their website:

"The Western is a demanding 24-day backpacking trip that takes place in either Montana's Beartooth Mountain Range or Wyoming's Wind River Range. Your group will hike both on and off the trail, above and below the treeline. Over snow-capped mountains, through grassy meadow, and navigate rugged boulder fields to reach high alpine lakes. Off-trail hiking will test your endurance, route finding skills, leadership skills, and determination."

I like how they use the word "demanding" right there in the first sentence. If I was their marketing person, I might choose "rewarding" or something a little less intimidating. But points for honesty, I guess. And expectation-setting...

So anyway, off I went to the Beartooth Mountains in Montana with my oldest friend and lifelong camp buddy, Courtney. I'm sure I acted cool, but I was scared out of my mind. I mean, 24 days without a toilet or shower? (Well, we had one pit stop in the middle.) Three whole weeks of dirty, damp clothes and dry, boring food? (Basically a lot of mac & cheese and Ry Krisps with PB&J.) 

Right, who wants ice-cold soda when you can drink lukewarm water with those gross Potable Aqua pellets? And who needs shampoo, or long-distance calls from your boyfriend, or sleeping in on Sunday mornings? 

Um, that would be ME. I do. A mattress is kinda nice, too.

Of course the scariest part was not the lack of creature comforts, but the "endurance" and "determination" stuff. The rugged boulder fields, the treacherous uphill climbs. Whatever my father says, I am not a natural-born athlete. I can hit a tennis ball okay, I enjoy a little skiing. But that's different than plodding up switchbacks with a 60-pound pack on your back.

Could I really do this? Did I WANT to really do this? 

No, not really. If given a choice, I would have happily traded places with friends on their more relaxing summer vacations. Like fishing and barbequing at a cabin in the woods somewhere. That seemed plenty nature-y enough.

But I did it. And I survived. And no, there was no "aha" moment on a mountain top that changed my life. No major epiphany in a thunderstorm that revealed some special purpose or gift I could offer the world. I mean, I was still a kid, I wasn't looking for some big revelation or transformation. I was just trying to get to the end of the trail so I could have a hot shower and a warm meal already. Or at least to the next plateau so I could catch my breath and take in the view.

Yeah, that's me, 5th from left. After this shot, we broke into "The Hills Are Alive..."

The "aha" moment would actually come later -- at a Camp Manito-wish information session in my hometown. The Director came to pitch and recruit, and alumni and their parents shared stories with prospective campers. I remember my mother standing up at one point to offer her testimonial, and -- very uncharacteristic of her -- she cried. She said that camp had given her children more confidence than anything else they had ever done.

Mind you, we were highly programmed kids -- music lessons, art and dance classes, theater, sports, the works. But I had never seen her gush quite like this to my violin or tennis instructors.

So I was surprised by her emotion, and like a true teen, embarrassed. (Mom! Come on, sit down.) But of course she was absolutely right. All these years later, I can still say that completing The Western was one of my proudest moments. And I'm sure the experience gave me more confidence to do other things later, like go faraway to college, or find a place to live on my own in a new city. After you've pitched your own tent in the rain, you know you can figure it out.

Lord knows, I didn't get any "Best Backpacker" awards -- in fact, I was a real wuss on those rugged boulder fields. And I wasn't all misty-eyed when it was over -- I ran to the shower and devoured my dinner with more gratitude for modern civilization than ever before.

Other Manito-wishers, including my sister, would go on to tackle even longer, more challenging expeditions than this. Like true mountain climbing and repelling, not just backpacking. Many would become camp counselors and trip leaders (which just sounds super hellish to me, herding all those kids --"Stop whining and keep paddling or we'll never get there!"). I have a ton of respect for those people -- also folks, like my father, who have trekked the Himalayas and still want to go further and higher. Or members of the military, who train and serve under much more extreme conditions than I could ever imagine. All I can say is wow, just wow. After having a taste, I'm not sure I could stomach a whole meal.

And I'm okay with that. I mean, would I be a better human if I pushed myself to do something like The Western again? Absolutely. Will I? Probably not. But I'm glad I did once upon a time. And if I ever have children, I will want them to have the same experience. Even if they grow up in a city. Especially if they grow up in a city. To unplug, to be in a new environment, to stretch different muscles, and to even be a wee bit uncomfortable for a little while is HUGE.

It's not just kids who need this. We adults need Summer Camp, too. And I don't mean vacation (which is really a more accurate word for my cushy PDX retreat here). Vacation is for relaxing; camp is for stretching. I realize lots of folks make time for this in their lives -- yoga retreats, eco-adventure travel, etc. But expensive enrichment experiences are out of reach for too many of us. Sure, I would love to travel more, but often it is a luxury I can't afford. There are always more pressing responsibilities and commitments. Life gets in the way of, well, living sometimes.

So I'm challenging myself to create my own annual Summer Camp experience wherever and however I can. Summer Camp doesn't have to be a place (though the empty house of a family member is certainly a great deal). It can be a state of mind -- just a period of time to disconnect all those wires and tap into my inner camper for a little while. Try new things, make mistakes, try again or try something different. A time not to be idle, but active in new ways -- physically is good, mentally even better. (Spiritually is a whole other blog.)

Do I sound like Oprah? Yeah, that means I should shut up now and just go practice what I preach. But first, huge thanks to Mom & Dad for sending me to Manito-wish. (Oh, and Mom, any chance those tears were actually memories of the peace & quiet you enjoyed while we were away for three whole weeks at a time? Yeah, I can see why you loved camp, too.) Also, thanks to my sister for having me here -- and for all the fun photographs around your house to spark memories of ye olden days in Boulder Junction, WI and Red Lodge, Montana.

Okay, back to camp...

Lox Love

There's nothing I love more than a good New York bagel with lox and cream cheese. Since we're trying to be carb-free here at Summer Camp (well, with a few exceptions, like pita bread), I can't do the bagel part. But come on, you can't come to Portland and not eat salmon. So here's my spin on it. Obviously not as good as the real deal, but close.

Painting

I am painting. Not well. But I promised myself that would be okay.

Tim was kind enough to share his brushes and paints with me, so the other day I got out a canvas and went at it. Didn't think about it too much. Just wanted to see what would come.

When I stood back and looked, I realized I was trying (without really knowing it) to mimic my favorite painters. I had challenged myself to loosen up and not be so exacting, but that didn't happen. 

I studied architecture, after all. My very favorite thing to sketch (usually while watching TV) is floor plans. So I can draw a straight line without a ruler, that's cool. But with painting, I hoped I would be a little freer. Yeah, not so much.

My favorite painters are the American realists. More specifically, urban and architectural landscapes. Edward Hopper is tops in my book, the master of capturing people in their environments. Also adore Charles Sheeler's smokestacks and Georgia O'Keefe's skyscrapers. Hugh Ferriss' sketches and Berenice Abbott's photographs, too. In Detroit, I love Stephen Magsig, Taurus Burns and Darcel Deneau's paintings and Stephen McGee and Dante Stella's snapshots.

Not sure what it says about me, but I really dig a good shadow. Themes of loneliness and resignation, the alienation of modern life. But also the audacity of modernity, the architecture of aspiration. 

When I look at my favorite, the Radiator Building by Georgia O'Keefe, I'm reminded of E.B. White's great quote about New York:

"It is to the nation what the white church spire is to the village—the visible symbol of aspiration and faith, the white plume saying that the way is up."

This, in a nutshell, is why I love cities.

But shit. I might have just psyched myself out of painting today by looking for inspiration from the creme de la creme. Don't measure yourself against masters, silly girl. That's a recipe for disappointment. Process, not product. Try, try again...

________

Paintings, clockwise from upper left: “Radiator Building—Night, New York" by Georgia O’Keefe (1927). “Early Sunday Morning” by Edward Hopper (1930). “Automat” by Edward Hopper (1927). “American Landscape” by Charles Sheeler (1920). “Smokestacks in the Cass Corridor” by Taurus Burns (2009). Center: “Citylights 54” by Stephen Magsig (2010).

Mission Figs & Mango Chutney

Sometimes I can't be bothered to cook, especially when it's hot. But I'm trying really hard to prepare food, not just put my hand in a bag of pita chips when I'm hungry. So this was my little meal the other night. Slices of pate and parmesan cheese, mission figs wrapped in prosciutto, and a dollop of mango chutney (mixed with a little cream cheese) on the side. Wish I had more sophisticated crackers, but made do with salteens. All in all, delish!

Ink & Peat

Ink & Peat in NE Portland is one of those shops that makes you want to redecorate your entire home. My sister introduced me to it on a previous visit, and even though the aesthetic is a bit more "organic" than my modern city girl sensibility, it really is such an enchanting place. Proprietor Pam Zsori has a serious gift for merchandising, everything is displayed and presented so beautifully. She also is a talented floral designer, so the shop is filled with gorgeous arrangements. (Oh, and her blog, housemartin, offers great eye candy for design addicts.)

The last time I visited, my sister & I unwittingly ended up in a photograph taken for LoftLife Magazine. So today when I stopped by on my bike, I at least made sure my mascara wasn't running down my face.

Shopping is not on my Summer Camp agenda, but I couldn't resist buying a few little treats I can use while I'm here:

Cassis scented candle from Linnea's Lights. Shea Butter handcreams from Lollia. And cute bicycle letterpress card by Portland-based Lark Press.

Fruit Tart

Not so good at the baking. Nothing ever comes out as it should, and this time was no exception. Burned the edges a little bit and had to remove the darn thing from the broiler before the fruit set in the lemon curd. Oh well, it still is pretty, isn't it? Kiwi always makes things better.

Rainbow Trout Tacos

Speaking of happiness, this made me happy:




Rainbow Trout Tacos with Fresh Homemade Guacomole

(Ingredients: Pan-Seared Trout Fillets, Avocados, Tomatoes, Red Onions, Lemon Juice, Red Pepper Flakes, Cilantro, Watercress, Feta, Red Pepper, Limes)

Extra Spicy

Near disaster last night when the spice jar lid came loose and cumin cascaded into the lemon-mint dressing. Thankfully, a little extra flavor turned out to be a good thing. (Note to self: Turn the lids tight, but don't be afraid to add some heat!)

Spicy Shrimp & Cucumber Salad with Mint, Lemon and Cumin

(Ingredients: Shrimp, Fish Rub, Hot Pepper Flakes, Cucumber, Mint Leaves, Lemon Juice, Cumin, Sriracha Sauce, Black Pepper, Olive Oil)

Middle East in the Northwest

Still honing my healthy cooking skillz. Kinda missed bratwurst & beer on the 4th of July, but I treated myself to another delicious & nutritious meal instead:

Grilled Chicken Pita with Cucumber, Red Onions, Cilantro and Feta. Watermelon & Feta Salad tossed in Olive Oil and sprinkled with Mint.

Speaking of The Middle East, I'm diggin' this song: