lyzadanger posted a photo: Om nom nom nom This is why I was quiet all weekend. Baked like a fiend because I was the host of Aileen's baby shower. Brett, Wes, Chris Higgins and Mr. Pencil also strongly involved. Go see the photo at Flickr to see what some of the treats were.

For PDX-ers still mourning the loss of local coffee chain Coffee People (summarily bought out of existence by Starbucks, who coveted their two drive-in locations on MLK Blvd.) might feel a little bit better knowing that there is somewhere that is still carrying the flame.

There is a shop on SE Grand Ave and approximately Oak Street (quite near Nicholas, the Miller Paint Store and Andy and Bax) called something like “Coffee Shop People” (it’s kind of hard to parse) . They serve Black Tiger and Velvet Hammer espresso drinks and milkshakes. Granted the coffee itself is Dietrich, but that’s as close as you’re going to get. Perhaps my Google fu is weak but they don’t seem to have a Web presence whatsoever, even on GMaps. I didn’t actually get a milkshake today (they’re $4.55 for a “small” and I’d just had a stuffingly yum Nicholas mezza), but I’m very glad to know they’re there.

Girl behind the counter says they’re all authentic Coffee People recipes. Anyone seen this place or tried their clones?

Also, RIP Torrefazione. You were too good for S’bucks, too.

First, let it be known that I love cilantro. But there is a rather silly and fun site out there: I Hate Cilantro– a self-proclaimed “Anti-cilantro community.” Included in their riotous testimonials and whatnot is this gem of a haiku:

verdant enemy
lurking in soupy repose
striking the naive

I know a good handful of folks who can’t stand the flavor of cilantro. My mom, for one, though she’s coming around somewhat. Cloud Four co-founder Jason Grigsby. A few others. The standard complaint is that it tastes like soap.

I find this interesting. The rumor is that it might be genetic.

The only thing I have a visceral revulsion to is liver of all stripes. I want to be able to say I’ll eat anything–I like being an adventurous eater–but when I put liver in my mouth my body roundly rejects it and it gets ugly.

How about you guys? Anything you just absolutely can’t eat? I’m not talking about stuff you don’t like that much, but stuff that makes you want to chork just looking at it.

Update: You can add natto and uni to my list. I love sushi but damn.

Heat: An Amateur’s Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tus… by Bill Buford

It’s easy to read, full of unusual stories, unusual people and gastronomic adventure, but it makes you feel weird.

You see, those chefs you worship–you watch them on the Food Network, you buy their cookbooks–well, they’re creeps. Not just creeps, but obsessive, sadistic cokeheads.Working in a kitchen is brutal (why would anyone do this?!), and people (especially said sadistic chefs) are cruel to you, and you burn yourself and you sweat and you do the same thing thousands of times in a row and you get paid hardly anything for it. For those who don’t shy away from back-stabbing and misery, this might work.

Buford’s vision of Italy (where you spend a drawn-out last third of the book) as food nirvana seems like the writing of a true disciple, one so bent on finding the truth in his craft that he ignores that he’s surrounded by psychopaths and that he’s developed OCD.

Buford’s a good writer–you won’t be bored or cliche-riddled–and if you’re a foodie (I am), you’ll learn a lot of great new stuff. But you might feel less like Mario Batali is a nice guy. ( )

p.s. This was my 50th book read this year!

Our big Thanksgiving meal this year is atypical, and involves a mol�.
A particularly involved mol�. It required an always-exciting trip out
to Food4Less at 82nd and Powell. Going to these edge-of-city
megamarkets is always like traveling, like traveling far away. They
fascinate me, these bastions of thrift with their seven different
brands of fish sauce, their bargain-basement wafer cookies, their
chayotes (both with and without “spikes”), and aisles of Russian
pickled eggplant spreads. You won’t see anything organic, but you will
be able to buy chiles you’ve never even heard of before for this mol�.

When it comes to anything ethnic, these places are miraculous. David’s
insistence on buying a bottle of Thai Pennywort Juice elicited bemused
nods from the cashier.

Just don’t try to find quality “normal” produce or cuts of meat from
“normal” animals that you’d really want to eat. Just because you can
buy pig snouts doesn’t make it a good idea. Well, same with the
pennywort, really.