I recently completed a website for a great photographer in Portland, Brenton Salo. Brenton has already published a book of studio work documenting the fixed gear bicycle culture in Seattle, Rain City Fix, and another book, Rose City Fix, is in the works for Portland. He also does traditional portraiture work and weddings.
After looking at the quality of his work, I was honored to build a site for him to house some of it.
I was never one for carnival rides.
The noise is the first thing, the shrill cries, screams, and mechanical creaking, the uncouth discussions, the loud talking, the small children, the greediness of toddlers still unaware of their own self-centered viewpoint, the assault of the attendees’ subtle tastes. Everything at a fair screams for your attention; each ride or stand is an island of assault on your senses, promising an extreme experience or ridiculously insensible prize. I know many, many folks that have an empty spot in their living room just waiting to be filled with a six-foot tall stuffed gorilla bear.
I went to the Portland Rose Festival’s Waterfront Village Saturday. I went with my ladyfriend who is, unbeknownst to me until this day, a carnival ride junky. With requisite machismo running high, I agreed to go big, to ride the big rides, the scary, the janky. How bad could it be?
As it turns out, pretty bad.
After the third ride, I was sweating ice water, pot-sticker skinned, the skin of a man about to have a heart attack. It was impending-doom sweat. Something wasn’t right with me and I was fighting back vomit. I was determined to sit out the last ride which appeared to be the worst of all, a contraption that spins you in a circle while you spin in a larger one, g-forces gluing you to your chair, destroying your insides for a small charge. “Funtastic”, indeed.
“This will wreck me,” I remember saying, still panting.
The ladyfriend went, bravely, into the line by herself to await her turn. She gets to the front of the line, and is stopped. Surely, she is too short to ride this as it looks like Satan himself created this machine. She’s turned away, thank God, walks over, and says:
“I have to ride it with a partner—no singles! Please?”
Shit.
To the unacquainted, Stumptown Coffee Roasters is a local, direct-trade coffee roaster. They are renown throughout the Northwest for their unbelievably mind-fuckingly delicious coffee, and have spread to seven locations—five in Portland and two in Seattle—along with dozens (or maybe hundreds) of shops who get their beans wholesale nation-wide.
Coffee shops that buy their beans wholesale do more than hand over money for beans; their baristas have to be trained by the Stumptown folks and proper machines and grinders have to be purchased or rented. If you see a placard outside a coffee shop that says, “Proudly serves Stumptown coffee”, you know that the barista is properly trained, producing your drink on proper equipment, with delicious direct-trade coffee.
If you haven’t checked them out yet, please do yourself a favor. Personally, I fancy the one on 11th & Stark downtown.
I made it to the last day of Lucky Lab’s Barley Wine Festival 2009 tonight. My hand was forced by the inclement weather to a place where I and present company could store our bikes under cover, and the Lucky Lab’s indoor bike racks were perfect for that.
The festival featured over 35 barely wines and strong ales from around the nation, although most were from the Northwest. Of the seven I tasted, the Grand Cru from Pacific City’s own Pelican Brewery was the most smooth and delicious. Not to mention that at 9.5% alcohol by volume, it packed a mean buzz as well.
All in all, the event felt uninspired, with recklessly drunken shenanigans by older folks leaving broken glass and empty plates strewn about the place, and a sticky dirty feeling all around. It was a bunch of booze in coolers in the corner; I like booze, but I also like good vibes.
I’d recommend it with hesitation if it wasn’t over.
Kenny & Zuke’s is a Jewish deli located at 11th & Stark downtown, next to the Ace Hotel and Stumptown. They serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as well as provide a deli counter for to-go orders and bulk purchasing. They make their own bagels, corned beef, and fucking delicious pastrami. They also sell huge sandwiches, like this half of a roast beef sandwich I took as leftovers:
In the morning, I tend to frequent the deli counter; I’m a big fan of the onion bagel with olive cream cheese. $2.75 is a cheap breakfast to go along with the bodacious coffee you just picked up next door.
Highly recommended.
