Spring Break '08: Days One and Two

I've been in San Francisco for almost two full days now, but up until now, I haven't felt clear-headed enough to actually post a message. Pedro picked me up from the airport around noon on Monday, and we've been busy, busy, busy since.

We went from the airport to lunch at a little place in Cole Valley called Zazie, a French bistro type place, where I kicked off my vacation with two glasses of champagne and a 'croque royale' (a croque monsieur with prosciutto instead of ham and bearnaise sauce instead of plain old white sauce). Spectacular!

After discovering that the DeYoung Museum was closed (it was Monday) we settled for an ice cream cone from Mitchell's in the Mission district, eaten on a park bench in Bernal Heights, which offers some of the best views in the city.

Next, and somewhat irresponsibly, we stopped off at Jade Bar downtown for $2 Happy Hour drinks, after which we returned to Pedro's condo to "freshen up" and decide on dinner. We did some online research and eventually chose a Brazilian/Argentinian/Spanish place the name of which we still can't seem to remember. What I do remember, though, is MEAT, more meat than I've ever eaten in my life, I think. In typical Brazilian restaurant style, the waiters circulate with giant skewers of meat--every kind you can imagine--and cut off slices as you request. In this particular restaurant, each diner is given a coaster that is green on one side and red on the other. Green means go, meaning "bring on the meat." Red, obviously, means STOP.

We returned home somewhat early to rest up for the next day's activities, but, before retiring, finished off another bottle of wine, which proved deadly for me the next morning. Needless to say, an afternoon on the Napa Wine Train did not sound very appealing when my alarm went off at 7 the next morning, but a couple of ibuprofen, a handful of Tums, and a half-gallon or so of water got me well enough to at least make the hour-long car trip up to Napa. By the time we arrived, I was feeling great, good enough even to stomach the two "tastes" they gave us during our supremely tacky "wine lecture" prior to departure.

The Wine Train itself was surprisingly un-tacky and really a lot of fun. The food was very good (I had the grilled quail; Pedro and his friend Yomiko had grilled halibut), and the wine (all Napa Valley) excellent.

We stumbled off the train around 2:30 and went in search of coffee and a place to lie down and take a nap. We eventually found the former, but not the latter, so we settled for a little shopping at the Napa outlet mall, and, later, Dean & DeLuca, with just ONE stop at a winery in between. Because we had several hours to kill before dinner at 8, we bought some cheese, olives and salami and headed up into the hills (where our restaurant was located) to find a likely pre-function spot. It turned out that our restaurant, attached to a luxury hotel and spa, had a lovely courtyard out front, and the staff kindly granted us permission to hang out for a while. Can you picture this? It's sunset in Napa Valley; we're gathered around a little table in the courtyard of a Tuscan-style hillside inn, nibbling on crusty baguette and local olives, rehydrating with fancy imported Dean & DeLuca bottled water. Needless to say, it was a beautiful way to refresh ourselves before dinner.

Dinner, by the way, was the highlight of the day. We dined on the terrace at Auberge du Soleil and were able to catch the last bit of the sunset just after the waiter had poured our wine, carefully and painstakingly selected from a wine list WITH A TABLE OF CONTENTS. I took lots of notes on dinner, and I'll probably post those later, when I have time to wax poetic, on Sauce and Sensibility, but I'll make a few comments here. From the fixed-price menu, I selected a first course of seared foie gras served on a little crostino and with, if you can believe it, rhubarb and a mole-style chocolate sauce. At first glance it looks like something that could only be concocted by Letitia Cropley, but it was absolutely awe-inspiring. It was also my first time eating foie gras, and let me tell you, Auberge du Soleil is a perfect place for a foie gras virgin to be deflowered. For the fish course, I chose the seared ahi tuna, which was served with a tiny square of braised pork belly. And for the main course, I selected the duck, served with yet another morsel of pork belly, perfectly cooked local artichoke hearts and spring onions, and a drizzle of a sauce that involved curry (I'll have to go to the website and check on this). Dessert was chocolate-filled phyllo dumplings with (wait 'til you hear this) tarragon ice cream! At this point I'm almost reluctant to go to Chez Panisse: what if it doesn't match up?

This morning I'm feeling great after a LONG night's sleep that started on the long drive back from Napa. Pedro and I are heading to Chinatown for take-out Dim Sum and a picnic in Golden Gate park, followed by the much anticipated trip to the DeYoung museum. Tonight is vodka tasting at Hangar One and dinner at Chez Panisse. More on that tomorrow.

Day Three

Today I slept in, or at least tried to, while my drama queen of a roommate complained loudly into her cell phone that she desperately needed to get to her psychiatrist appointment but didn't have enough money for a taxi. I offered to pay her fare, eager to be rid of her, but she refused, choosing instead to call her psychiatrist and complain--again, loudly--to him until he agreed to pay the driver upon her arrival.

So I got up and headed across the street to a coffee shop, where I spent what was left of the morning reading the NY Times and sipping a latte. After that, I walked down to the Pearl District where I spent a good part of the early afternoon chatting up some gay boys in a little kitchen shop with the most extensive cookbook selection I've ever seen. Next, I had lunch (at their recommendation)with a bunch of Stepford wives and other beautiful people at the Everett Street bistro. It was good, and not nearly as expensive as you'd think, in spite of the Stepford wives.

I really like Portland. It's a very friendly town and pretty affordable compared with a lot of other places. Still, I've met (actually exceeded) my spending limit, so I'm ready to head home.

See you all tomorrow!

Day Two

This was supposed to be my big Powell's Day, and it was, in a way, but to be honest, I only made it through the New Releases and Cooking sections before becoming quite overwhelmed. The place is almost like...a city of books, or something. I then moved on to Whole Foods, where I stumbled across a VERY exciting find, which I'll tell you about when I get home. I can only think of two people who will be as excited as I am, and one of them knows about it already. Still, I'm pretty pleased.

Not much else to report. I've pretty much reached my spending limit, so I'm not exactly sure what I'll do tomorrow, but I'll figure something out.

Five hours, forty-five dollars...

Three glasses of pretty-darned-good cote du rhone, one order of really good goat cheese ravioli, one order of REALLY good pork medallions in spiced-apple sauce, two glasses of more-than-pretty-good Nebbiolo, and one out-f***ing-standing pizza funghi e prosciutto!

I started my evening at Lucy's Table and finished at a place called Touche (all within 4 or 5 blocks of my hostel). In between these two establishments, I turned down a dinner offer from an old man named Scott, whose business card indicated that he was affiliated with the "Universe University." I was tempted to accept his offer for a "free drink from an old, strange man", but I resisted. I ate my pizza alone and made my way back to the HI Northwest Guesthouse, which is clean, friendly, and almost empty. I'm sharing my six-bed dorm with two Japanese rommates (no Australians in sight, for once!), and all is quiet.

So here I am, safe and sound (Mom!). More tomorrow.

Home! (second try)

After twelve or so hours of travel, I'm back and ready to crawl into my own (non-inflatable) bed. My last day in Quebec was lovely. I walked through most of the old city, had lunch at a Lonely Planet-recommended restaurant which was hosting its 2nd annual "Grilled Cheese Festival", took the Funiculaire back up the hill, and then returned to the hostel for a short nap followed by a glass of wine and dinner with two fellow hostellers from Switzerland (I'm starting to think that I REALLY like the Swiss, based on the handful I've met) and a long evening in bed with--no, dear readers, NOT the Swiss girls --THE HUMMINGBIRD'S DAUGHTER, a novel which I had picked up thinking it would be good, fluffy vacation reading, but which is actually fantastic.

It was quite an adventure, and I'm flattered (and somewhat surprised) to hear that so many of you (aside from the "usual suspects") enjoyed reading about it! Stay tuned for "Mer's 30th in Paris" (assuming that financial circumstances don't force me to downgrade it to "Mer's 30th at the Parkway Tavern"), coming some time between June and December of 2008 ("Big" birthday celebrations should start at least six months in advance, shouldn't they?).

Bon Soiree!

My clothes from yesterday still arent dry, but...

The clouds have parted here in Quebec City, at least for a while, so I may get a chance to actually SEE some of the town today.

Yesterday, after posting my last message, I walked over to the Basilique Notre Dame and, mostly to get a break from the rain, took a guided tour of the church. It ended up being one of the best cathedral tours Ive taken. Ive noticed that the Quebecois seem to favor drama and heroism over accuracy and fairness in their historical accounts, which is great if youre looking for entertainment more than education. After the basilique, I visited the Museum of French-America, which contains a number of exhibits chronicling the heroic journey of the French in North America, their trials and tribulations, their battles with the savage natives and the evil Brits. Not a bad way to spend a rainy afternoon.

After a quick nap back at the hostel, I went downstairs to the hostel bar and sipped a pint of Quebecois beer while chatting with the first sober Australian Ive met on my journey so far. After that, I went in search of dinner and ended up choosing a near-empty Moroccan place just down the street from the hostel (Steve, in response to your comment: in QC, Moroccan seems to be the new Vietnamese--cheap, friendly, reliable, and tourist-free). I chatted with my bored waitress while sipping my harira (perfect on a cold, wet night) and nibbling on lamb kebabs. At the end of the meal, she brought me Moroccan mint tea and perhaps the best baklava Ive ever tasted. After dinner, I returned to the hostel bar for another pint and had a lovely conversation with two young women from Japan (also my roommates) who had just finished an ESL program in Vancouver; this morning, while I was at breakfast (I went back to Le Petit Coin Latin for their giant bowl of cafe au lait and a fantastic ham and cheese bagel), they left a note on my pillow which read Nice to see you! Now we gonna go to Montreal. Thanks!

Now I'm off to make the most of my last day in town. If all goes well, I will be back in town tomorrow evening.

Cold, Wet Greetings from Quebec City

I arrived yesterday afternoon, and, as expected, the computers at the hostel are indefinitely out of order.

The train ride from Montreal to QC was beautiful. Once you get an hour or so north of Montreal, the flat farm land turns into rolling hills, and this far north, the trees are just beginning to change color, so it was a lovely trip. The weather was beautiful yesterday, but today its (again, pardon the lack of apostrophes) windy, rainy and all-around nasty. Not surprisingly, being a Pacific Northwesterner, I'm handling it much better than everyone else.

The hostel here is enormous and much more hotel-like than Le Sous-bois, but it is clean and I have found no sign of fleas. Even better, theres a bar downstairs where you can get a pint for just $4! That's a real bargain around here!

Last night, because I was tired and unfamiliar with the city, I chose a so-called French restaurant on the main tourist drag for dinner. Afterward, I felt the way victims always feel--violated, ashamed, as though I should have known better, as though I could have somehow prevented this from happening to me. Now, I feel the only thing I can do is educate others. So if you come here, no matter how enticed you are by the handsome waiters lingering outside the front door, no matter how romantic the accordion music coming from within may sound, no matter how hungry you are, DO NOT eat at Cafe Paris. If you do, you will find yourself sipping a $10 glass of Yellow-Tail-ish wine (no, I'm not saying theres anything wrong with Yellow Tail, but those of you who drink it know that a BOTTLE of the stuff doesn't cost $10) and nibbling on leathery meat and a dessicated, foil-wrapped (yup, I'm serious) baked potato while the accordionist hovers near your table playing Moon River for the seventh time since you sat down. If you order dessert, you may get a slice of cheesecake that is ABSOLUTELY NOT cheesecake and a really lousy cup of coffee (and bad coffee is pretty hard to find in these parts).

The food situation improved greatly at breakfast. As much as I hate being tied to a guidebook, I have to admit that the Lonely Planet folks know what they are talking about when it comes to restaurants, so I chose a spot called Le Petit Coin Latin for breakfast; here, I had a fantastic omelette and a perfect cafe au lait for about $10 (thats about $9 American--not much more than Id pay for breakfast at home).

The rain appears to be letting up a bit, so Im off to explore--and find an ATM. I FINALLY figured out that my debit card troubles were due to the fact that cash machines here accept EITHER Visa or Mastercard, but not both, and Mastercard is more commonly used in Canada. Finding an ATM that accepts Visa takes a little more time, but once you find one, theres no problem.

Until tomorrow...