Portland, Oregon is a haven for food enthusiasts, affectionately known as “foodies.” (I kind of hate that word, but I used it for you anyway, Dear Reader, because I would bleed for you.) And for reasons I do not wholly understand, the food scene here is absolutely exploding: food cart pods are blossoming on both sides of the river, ethnic cuisine from around the globe is represented by family-owned and operated restaurants in all 4 quadrants of the city (Note: I also hate the word ‘ethnic’), and, of course, we have our infamous dessert destinations…
Pix Patisserie, Voodoo Doughnut, Papa Haydn and Rimsky-Korsakoffee House are just a few of Portland’s sugary locales guaranteed to throw off your insulin balance like a fat kid on a teeter-totter. However, my wife and I largely ignore these places because: A) My wife is German, so her idea of ‘dessert’ is some ultra-dense cake the color of midnight with a taste that is one part intimidation and two parts depression; and B) I prefer savory over sweet, and like any true American worth his salt, I keep my systolic blood pressure at a screaming 200 mmHg.
This is why, when asked to define our taste preferences, my wife will proudly inform you:
THE WIFE: “We don’t eat much dessert. We are not sweeties.”
Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”
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