It’s Clearly A Taste Issue
I am not what anyone would call a foodie – I think that, even if I wanted to describe myself as such, I’d be legally prevented from doing so because of the amounts of foodstuffs that I have unexpected and irrational dislikes of – but the longer I live in Portland, the more I find myself loving the various restaurants and eating establishments of the city.
I say this the day after having an incredibly enjoyable lunch at Olympic Provisions, a place I quickly announced was my new favorite foodspot merely based almost entirely on the evidence of their steak tri-tip sandwich (Seriously, people: It’s so good), but the city seems filled with places I want to revisit and things I want to put in my mouth. This hasn’t always been the case; I’d be hardpressed to think of any great restaurants I went to in Glasgow or Aberdeen, when I lived there, and even the truly foodie mecca of San Francisco only offered up a handful of places I genuinely adored (Those’d be Pizzetta 211, Da Flora, NOPA and Park Chow, for the curious); there were many, many other places I’ve visited that I knew were serving amazing food, but none captured my heart and my stomach at the same time in the way that Portland’s eateries seem to be able to do with such ease.
Part of me wonders if this is an age thing; that, as I get older, my taste for food gets more refined to the point where I appreciate good food more easily, while my taste for experiences becomes broader and I can dig more places more expansively. It’s definitely the logical suggestion, which probably explains why I shy away from it so much. I’d much rather believe that it’s Portland itself, and just another sign of how well suited I am to Portland, and vice versa. Any city with a waffle window, Voodoo Doughnut and my new sweet crush, Saint Cupcake has to be more than a little special, after all.
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