Flying Pie PiZZeria

With good friends Phil and Connie we decided to drive East out to Issaquah and have a bite to eat and a brew at Flying Pie Pizzeria. We've been talking about it for months, but we never got around to it until Phil suggested it on our monthly beer meet-up on Wednesday. Deal!

The place is a self proclaimed dump, squeezed in to a corner of an old strip-mall in downtown Issaquah. But what this place might lack in "styled" interior (well, it is actually styled pretty nicely, but no money was spent in the process if you see what I mean) it makes up for several times over in the quality of food and the brews.

Simply great pizzas, with hearty ingredients, and no skimping on the quantity. You will not leave hungry! And with a pitcher of Black Butte Porter for $11, who can complain?

We were joined later by David and Linnea (reasonably new Issaquahists, been there about 18 months) for a truly enjoyable evening. I for sure will return to Flying Pie in the not too distant future!

Cause, with things going the way they are on the Eastside, this place will likely be squeezed out down the road and replaced by some me-too chain store at ground level in a "styled" condo complex. Good places that are outright cheap, not part of a godawkward franchise or styled to look like every other restaurant in Microsoft land, simply does not seem to survive on the East shores of Lake Washington. One normally have to drive up on Capitol Hill, Wallingford, or Queen Anne Hill, to find them. At times like this, I badly miss living in France!

So, do your duty. Drive out to Issaquah and support Flying Pie Pizzeria. And while there, take a few steps down the road to the Rogue Brewhouse for some delicious brews and make the outing into an evening.

Great NeighborZ - 2

A relaxing evening down (or up) in the "Flamingo Lounge" with some great cocktails, snacks, and some good jokes. Good thing with the Flamingo is that you can come as you are - as I did today.
I walked out of two days of cleaning out the attic (removing old fiberglass insulation) and straight into the Flamingo. And I wasn't thrown out. There was no bouncer, or a locked door. Just someone yelling from the inside "come on in".

Scott and Daryl; Thanks for a great and relaxing evening. Exactly what I needed after fighting the dust up there!

Great NeighborZ - 1

A house is a place where one park one's "stuff". A home is a place where you live and (hopefully) also enjoy life (and park your stuff). Part of that "enjoying" is having great neighbors - as we do - in multiples.

Just came home from the traditional "Martinka Holiday Party", a longstanding tradition in this part of town. And, as every year, it was an enjoyable evening with friends, brew, and food. All of it great. Fun to see such an eclectic bunch of people in one place.

MiZZing it but finding it!

Christmas (not really a religious holiday) is very important in Sweden. For Americans to really understand how important, one likely have to compare it with Thanksgiving, the big difference that Christmas in Sweden can (during good years) be a two week long holiday - filled with traditional ceremonies (nah, that sounds too serious but you get the idea), tons of food, drinks and desserts. It is a deep rooted celebration to Winter and all good it brings (as long as there's snow of course). The actual Christmas holiday (three days, December 24, 25, and 26) is normally spent over at relatives, but then many take off for the mountains (in Scandinavia, or the Alps), and this "season", Christmas is not rreally ending until January 6, providing for a long extended holiday that started on December 21.

Living far away from one's birthplace and where the rest of the (birth) family resides, sort of takes away some of those traditions, traditions that have been engraved through the hard work of parents and grandparents over the years. You sort of just miss out on them after a while. Missing them when the Christmas season arrives, but still not that badly.

Out of the woodwork pops Magnolia. Born in Portugal, she's spent some years in Sweden and now she's happily married to a Swede up here in the Pacific Northwest.

Even with only little Swedish time under her wings, Magnolia prepares THE BEST Swedish Christmas buffet this side of the Atlantic. Truly amazing (dare I say better than mama's?) for someone that was not born/raised there.
For the 2nd year we had the honor of being invited over to her and Mats' house to "feast", since there is no better description on what they manage to cook up.

Big Thank You guys for a wonderful Christmas eve, with EVERYTHING that could be expected - and more!

Dinner and FriendZ

Got mail last week from an old customer and (still) good friend. Have not seen him in over two years, but he was to pass Seattle on his way to Olympia for a meeting with the Public Utilities Commission.

Given the opportunity we met up tonight for a meal and few drinks. Always good to meet up with old friends after some time has passed. Lot of stuff to tell. In his case, he's recently gotten married and just looked happy. Life is good!

Just have to post this great wedding photo he sent me...

Wedding + Winthrop = AmaZing!

Last year we got an invite to "Karen and Kent's Wedding" (yes they were out early, so early that I initially thought the wedding to be in August of 2006).

Have to go far back here. I initially met Karen on a ski lift in Alta, February 1995. Later that night I sort of caused Annie from Hartford, CT, (met her by the ski lockers earlier that day an mentally forced her to go skiing even though she was tired) to break her nose after a way too long session in the pool, hot tub, sauna (in that order, combined with beer). Karen was at the Alta Peruvian Lodge together with her dad and brother. As it happens, Karen's dad is a doctor and he "corrected" Annie's broken nose that were same night. Karen and Annie were also, unbeknownst to each other, sharing one of the fabulous "dorms" at the Alta Peruvian Lodge.

Karen and I have been friends ever since, and when I lived in Texas and frequently visited Seattle, I could always count on having access to a bunk in the in the "basement suite" at the house she shared with a bunch of fun room mates in Wallingford. It was more fun than Hilton or Sheraton. It was also here that I really learnt the "room mate" concept. Something that is just very rare in native Sweden.
Karen also took the time to really show me the best of the Pacific NorthWest, something that I'm endlessly thankful for and hence, as you know, this is now my home!

Over the years I managed to keep up the contact and visit with Annie (remember, broken nose...) a number of times. Annie eventually got married to this crazy Brit (Chris), a "fake" guide she met on a trip to the French alps. They were both, with wonderful daughter Sarah, visiting us in Seattle last summer. And Annie met Karen again for the "first" time since that accident prone Saturday, some 12 years ago. As an added surprise, Karen's dad was also present! Ready to take care of any more noses.

From the very first time I met Karen I was amazed by her work. Immensely talented and the stuff that would come out of her hands was not only "artsy" but also fun. She eventually broke out of the corporate mold, dared to jump into business for herself and opened an art studio.

When I got married in 2000, there was no debate who I wanted to have as "my" witness. Karen was my first really close friend in Seattle, so she was a given!

So, it was therefore with great joy we looked forward to the "Karen and Kent Wedding" this weekend in Winthrop. Karen had finally met someone that could keep up with her and be her true "mate" (to steal a quote from one of her room mates)!

Winthrop is about a 4-5 hour drive from Seattle. Boring slog up I-5 (traffic jam) but when you start following the Skagit River it turns pretty and the crossing of the Cascades in many ways reminds me of stretches of Norway. Arriving on the other side, you are normally greeted by eternal sunshine and dry weather. Not so this weekend. It was unseasonably cold (about 75F insted of the more normal 95F) and therefore perfect for the pooches and outdoor activities.

We arrived at the Virginian and it took a while before they could find my reservation. But, once all that was done, we settled in a cosy cabin styled room with solid log walls. Best of it all, they charged less than indicated in my reservation and as far as I know, only charged a small flat fee for the dogs.

Before us in the check-in line was two girls and a guy on Harleys. Noted that one of them was not a "real" biker chick, but out here visiting her friends. She rode with the fat guy. It did not take long to figure out that they all got the room above us. There was a lot of "riding" going on all night and likely also some "girl-on-girl" action... Kept me awake in any case. Beth slept through it all, ears plugged up.

Saturday morning started with breakfast at one of the many coffeestands in Winthrop. They all have it in common that there are yellowjackets EVERYWHERE, and with a dog that likes to chase/eat them, we stocked up on some Benadryl, hoping not to have to use it.

The wedding "procedures" started with a fun scavanger hunt through the town of Winthrop. But the "K-9 Assessors" probably did not do all that well, despite a hard effort. We got at least a chance to see a lot of this fun little town during hours of walking, including even given the dogs a few chances to swim in the river.

Wedding was typical Karen "affair", i.e. not like anything else! It was a wonderful outdoor wedding with guest from all over. There was even a shaman from Russia (city of Khabarovsk) with some "holy" tea, in which the couple literally tied their knots.

The "theme" for the day was silly hats, and there were some amazing creations among the guests, too many to be shown here.

Karen is not the one who you'd normally see in a dress, but she had on a beautiful wedding gown, dressed at the bottom by a pair of orange Keen sports sandals. Very fitting, very Karen! Kent was a tad more "classic" in his tie-less black suit. They looked simply very, very, happy during this great outdoor ceremony, followed by a great dinner/dance event at the "Winthrop Barn".

Apart from the amazingly vimsical wedding cake (photo), a cool thing was that Karen's dad had bought brandy when they lived in Spain, some 40 years ago. That brandy was already then 80 years old and hence now 120 years. Yum...

Take a peak at the following photos, and hopefully you'll get a good feel of a great weekend in Winthrop!

GrrringoZ in Portland...

Wow, what a great weekend!
On a "wim" wife and I sort of decided to go to Portland and visit Helen and Chris. Since this was a weekend that really fit them well (kids "distributed" to various venues so house was sort of open), it was a quick decision.

It is all sort of fun. I've "known" Helen since sometime 1999, but never met her until she and husband Chris made it up to Seattle over Easter. We had far too little time together, so it was sort of agreed upon that we sometime should moosey on down to Portland and take care of the dinner we owed them.

Getting out of Seattle this Friday afternoon took some time, with I-5 southbound more or less congested all the way down to Chehalis. There the backsups suddenly evaporated. Sort of weird. No exits, no "less" amount of vehicles, but the "stall" just disappears. Someone better have done extensive studies on this.

In any case, we got to Portland a tad late, like around 10.30 PM. Helen and wife had planned on doing a short run (14+ miles) early on Saturday morning, so upon arrival, we had a beer, did the house tour, and chatted for some time. Wife went to bed, a bit later Chris got bored with "all the Swedes", and I sort ended keeping Helen up until at least 2.30 AM (not planned in order to give the family some running advantage, we just had a great chat into the "little hours").

Come Saturday morning, wife shakes me and asks if I'm joining them (the girls). I had planned for it, brought all the needed stuff, also knowing that Chris would pick "us" up as needed along the trail. But, after a few short moments of intense brain activity it was quickly decided that with less than 3 hours of sleep, the pillow felt much better!

Shortly thereafter, well sort of more than an hour later, someone bangs on the door and ask "are YOU coming?". It was Chris. It was now 7.30 and time to drive in to the "coffee shop" rendez-vous point (aka "end of trail") to collect the female members of the families.

A coffee shop that also allows dogs to be brought inside can only be described in one word: GREAT! Having excellent cinnamon rolls is just another excuse for being firmly planted in the couch. We ended up sitting there, sipping our javas until suddenly four all too fit women gathered up outside (in Chris' case, a "java" is more like a "super gulp" though).

Check these photos. Can you believe that they have just run not only 14 miles, but also the LONGEST distance anyone of them have run in years, maybe even in a life time (one of them with a stress fracture in the heel).

Back to the house for some bagels and breakfast, shower and getting ready for the highlight of the day; The Oregon Brewers Festival!

Sort of like the Seattle festivals, but this one had a good attribute. Beer was much cheaper! During the afternoon, the sun is also slowly breaking through what can only be referred to as a "marine layer", even though the term is not known in Oregon.
The event is nicely situated in downtown Portland along the Willamette River.

After sampling of brews, a dog walk along the waterfront and seeing the sun finally showing its full force, it was time to break up and go for some more serious stuff: Food AND Beer!

McMenamins/Edgefield winery is a small, or rather correct, large paradise for beverage lovers in Troutdale, just on the eastern outskirts of Portland. Even the wife liked the beer so much so she sent the wine back and asked for a brew - not a boad statement for a notorious wine "sipper"!

McMenamins is a destination that can not be described but has to be experienced. Closest comparison in Seattle would likely be compot with equal blends of Chateau S:t Michelle, Willows Lodge, and Redhook Brewery - but all situated on a dense "campus" in old and restored buildings (old looney bin?). Nothing that just has been "smacked up" to lure unknowing tourists.
Food was good, but service really sucked big time. Not the fault of our waitress, she just had too many plates (literally) to tend to. As it is most times, a management problem, not the individual contributor.

We ended the evening with a screening of "Team America" and those of us who stayed awake had a great time.

Sunday was off to a slow start. Tea and bagels, and then out to Cafe Delirium for the morning's "super gulp" of Mocha. Heading eastbound along the Columbia River Highway, we stopped at the Sandy River to give Phoebe a well deserved swim (she's been an angel this weekend) and continuing on to the Vista House and Multnomah Falls.

Our great weekend in Portland ended at an old traditional restaurant (name's passing me by) overlooking the Sandy River. Chicken, Baby Back Ribs and dumplings. Can it be more home cooking than so?

Helen and Chris; thanks for a great weekend and thanks for opening up your house also to the "big horse" (aka Phoebe).

We eventually took the long way home heading east along the Columbia River and then north from Carson (backside of Mount S:t Helens). Did the mistake of "chicken out and cutting out" to I-5 and - again - getting stuck in backups that started somewhere near Chehalis (what is it with that town?), instead of continuing on the small and winding forest roads until Randle. Oh well...

Ski Zeason have come and gone...

OK, many weeks have passed since anything was written in this space. Time for a short update, and also an attempt at more regular entries. With the great snow we've gotten up in the Cascades, there has been a few wonderful days up at Stevens Pass. Actually, the very first skiing in a few years. First the winters were crabby, then it was too much traveling (for work) and the finally, this winter, SNOW. Plenty of it. Over the past 35 years, I've had many great days skiing. Most memorable and on the "top 10" are probably the three years I spent in the French Alps. Living in Tignes Le Val Claret (http://www.espacekilly.com), never being further away from a slope than 2 minutes, 24/7, was simply the best. I have no idea of how many days of skiing I actually got in during those years, but it was more than I managed since. At the same time, I sometimes wonder how it came to that I did survive. Back in those days, there was little talk about the danger of avalanches, rock falls, getting lost in a white out, etc. Skiing was simply about finding "great lines" down the mountain. You followed the "locals" a few times, and when you felt comfortable, you went on your own - totally disregarding the fact that changes in snow conditions voided what little you learnt over the previous days. But, we did so much "stuff", extreme skiing of the days - with out ANY safety equipment (beacon, probe, shovel) and many times one even went alone - the 3-4 hour lunch break was precious and dragging people around (visiting tourists) had to wait until a you had a full day off. At lunch you wanted to get in maximum vertical!I specifically remember one time in the spring of 1983. I had taken the cable car up to La Grande Motte, did a few warm-up runs on one of my favorite slopes, a long and wide empty dance floor served only by two double chairs. It was exposed on top of the glacier, a bit to the side, and few people bothered with it (probably considered a bore due to its location). It resulted in short lines and A LOT of skiing - a hidden gem in plain view!Anyway, up to the summit again, crossing over the glacier (yes, alone) and then up to the summit of "Dome du Pramecou". It is a mild mountain on its south side, but with a wonderfully steep north face where all wind driven snow was dumped (deep powder as late as May...). In order to get there, you had to traverse the glacier, aptly named "mer de glace" (sea of ice), hike up to the summit and I think all that labor kept many away. The run down was as great as ever, soft snow, but no Utah powder (which I did not know at the time, but you just don't find that in the Alps). From the bottom of Pramecou's north face, one can ski down a couloir, or take another small hike up to the summit of a small peak with a name I no longer recall, but it can end up in a viciously steep and narrow couloir run back to the village. From up there, EVERYONE could see you - if they looked up that is... But, this day I was lazy and took the couloir down towards the valley where the cable was located (cable car is long gone and replaced by an UNDERGROUND tram that ferries skiers up the mountain). The couloir was as good as it could be after having been skied w/o any new snow for a couple of days. It was always in the shade and the snow was cold any nice. This steep and narrow chute, was accessible via a long traverse and hence frequent by quite a few on a daily basis. Even so, it rarely turned to ice until very late spring. Out of the couloir, I cut out to the left (north), and traversed a the shaded wide open East face of the "unnamed mountain" in order not to have to take the slope back down to the cable car. I've done this many times. You keep altitude and get a decent run in the final fall line down towards the village.
Tired after only three great descents in one? You can always rest on the way back up again. I did so, sitting in one of the cable cars going back up, looking to the west to see if I can see my tracks in the dark shadow of the unnamed peak. To my amazement (and later horror), the entire side of the mountain is now a debris field after an avalanche. It must have happened when I was waiting in line to get up again. Had I been 10 minutes or so (=one more run on top of the glacier) , I would not have been sitting here today at all. I'd probably be one of the small "snow boulders" strewn across the mountain side. Next day I did take a look at these small snow boulders, they were about the size of a VW Microbus and just as hard. It would have hurt, really bad, to be there when they came down from above... I'm not religious, but I do believe in fate and the importance of having impeccable timing...
Oh well, just another day of skiing in the wild 80ies. When there really were no rules!

I return to Tignes summer of 1986. I am greeted with the sad news that M. Perinet (my landlord) and "George" (the local butcher) have died in a climbing accident on the same glacier. "Mer de glace" ends just south of Val Claret with the "ice fall", or "le langue du glacier". It is a popular ice climbing spot in the late summers when the real ice actually gets some exposure. What I hear is that the glacier "calved" and they were crushed under the falling ice. Took many days before their bodies could be recovered. Looking back, it could just as well had been me...