There is something about the vibe of Portland OR that makes me feel inadequate in a moderately condescending yet strangely desirable way. I feel like Portland is a fat middle schooler who won’t stop shoving me in the back for my lunch money, except what Portland wants is your best effort at creative zeal (only zeal in the most apathetic/chill form). Portland just want’s me to burn my copy(s) of Eat Pray Love, repurpose old furniture into art, perfect a track stand, get an ironic tattoo, sell my car, and shave one side of my head…all things that I seriously consider until I pass some magical line south of Eugene on the way out of town. And of course, we can’t resist a trip to Food Fight to stock up on sweet treats!
I knew when we walked in that we would have to be real assholes not to enjoy ourselves here. The line was seriously like a cast of characters for the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie and I had to reflect on the last time I had a tetanus and/or hepititis shot before sitting at a booth – but we’ve learned that the best food comes with a little risk. The staff looked like Billy Bob Thorton and The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo had a lovechild and started a band with Freddie Mercury, Perry Farrell, and any protagonist from a Wes Anderson movie. Anytime the names of food can tap into the 70% emotional part of my consumer brain I am sold, and with pizzas like “Let us play your party”, “Hawkwind”, and “The ‘Ol Dirty” I can order irrationally to my hearts content. When we ordered the large “New Maps Out of Hell” we had no clue that we would be chomping on soy curls and cashew spread, but man oh man was it delicious! Sarah said her “Ace of Spades” was the best gluten-free pizza she ever had – then proved it by eating it for breakfast and as a snack the next two days.
In recap, the lessons we learned this weekend are that you should eat as much (vegan) food as you want then wash it down with beer then eat some cake then sleep then wake up and do it again for two more days…then, you need to stop. Or, like in our case, run a race after said weekend and experience gurgle gut at the 1k mark followed by sting ring around mile two – and that is enough to get you back on track for at least a few weeks.
Cheers to 32 years Evan. Here’s to living large and eating plants with the goal of another 70 years!