My first job was at a walk-up Dairy Queen on the strip in my hometown in Illinois.  I served dipped DQs, blizzards, and Mr. Misty’s from what was essentially an air-conditioned, cement shack.  In my first week, I learned how to make the layered bumps and the little swirl on the top of the ice cream cones, I learned how to use the machine to blend candy into ice cream (kind of dangerous!), AND I received my “bottomless” employee cup: a plastic mug with one of those vinyl, sticky labels that comes out of the hand-held printing wheel-thingy.  My label read S I G N E.  That’s my name, I used to work with Jen and now we’re pals.

Best job EVER!

Best job EVER!

Thus began my love affair with soft serve…and soft serve related mad science.  I always wonder if giving one’s employees free rein to combine different flavors is really a secret strategy to have one of them discover the next sensational flavor combination and then claim the intellectual property rights.  More likely, bosses just figure, “These people are going to steal from me anyway, why not just give them free ice cream and call it a day.  How much ice cream can a 17 year old girl eat anyway?”  To this I laugh maniacally.

So, naturally, with such a rich history of soft serve adventures, I feel it’s necessary to begin my GastrOregon blog-sitting by writing about Scotties Drive-In in Forest Grove.  Scotties is a soft serve induced flashback.  Sitting over a little hill and just before Pacific Avenue turns into Hwy 8, is a cute, drive up cafe with a blue and red marquis that says things like, “Congrats Donna and Jeb” or “Way to go Vikings.”

So cute, you could eat it up

So cute, you could eat it up

I think the term “drive-in” might be a bit of a misnomer because, as far as I can tell, there’s no car-door service.  That’s okay though because you have the option to either enter the cafe, order at the counter, and sit in one of the yellow booths, OR walk up to the window (staffed by plucky high school students) to place your order.  I recommend the window option because it’s near and dear to my heart.  Don’t be offended when they close the sliding window after you order – they’re just trying to keep the AC in!

Now, I’ve been to Scotties several times and I have to say it’s fantastic.  Not only do they have every make and model of ice cream treats in every flavor of the rainbow, they also have burgers, fries, and other heart-stopping goodies you would expect from a drive in.  AND, they often make their ice cream flavors with fresh ingredients.  The last time I was there, my companion ordered a marionberry shake made with real berries!  It was tart, sweet, and purple; it tasted like summer.  I’ve also sampled their french fries which are of the thick cut variety; crispy on the outside and soft on the inside – quite yummy.

As a bonus, Forest Grove is only about 45 minutes away from Portland on Hwy 26 West and it’s a lovely drive.  If you’re headed to the coast for the weekend, antiquing, or just going for a spin to make sure that replacement master cylinder is working, I encourage you to stop at Scotties for a cone.  You will not be disappointed.

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Here’s the thing about Central Oregon – when oncoming cars pass each other, the drivers wave to you. The last time I had to go through an ordeal like that was the last time I was in a pontoon boat. I could stop right here and you could probably come up with the rest of my story for me. I should also explain that my name is Matt, and I work with Jen.

No one was watching when I took this picture

No one was watching when I took this picture

As I prepared for my mammoth drive from Portland through Condon and Fossil to John Day, and back to Portland through Monument and Long Creek, it was suggested to me that I log my eating habits (somewhat). I says to myself I says, “What a quaint idea”, and I laughed it off. But after 5 hours of driving the “Journey Through Time Scenic Byway”, every opportunity to stop seemed blog-worthy. My mind was spinning; Andrew W.K. sounded like a great idea to play with the windows down. Suddenly I was taking pictures of landscapes, outhouses, and my car next to outhouses.

Grub + Steak =

Grub + Steak = ?

But I digress. This is about food, and I ate food in John Day. Upon stretching and settling in at the Best Western, I did find myself yearning for more than beef jerky and spearmint gum, which with a little help from lunch in Fossil (I found out later that Jen had already blogged about Big Timber Family Restaurant) was all that sustained me through the torment of waving with my hand on the wheel to complete strangers. The smell of sagebrush was in the air. My carefully mapped out venture to Grubsteak Mining Co. was in the cards tonight.

You know when you are hungry and you order something, but as soon as you order it you instantly regret it? Not because you’re worried about how it will taste, but that you know you probably shortened your lifespan and probably the lifespan of your future children? That’s pretty much the menu at Grubsteak. Matty Jr., I’m sorry but that was one hell of a Monte Cristo. And yes, those are gigantic tater tots and ranch dressing. Is there any better mixture of foods? I submit there is not. Needless to say after that feast I took a walk around the neighborhood because it hurt to sit down. Well played, Grubsteak. Well played.

Meat, grease, beer, pickle

Meat, grease, beer, pickle

THE NEXT MORNING
Fun fact: I love breakfast, and I had actually planned my breakfast for the next morning before I planned my dinner at Grubsteak Mining Co. The Squeeze-In Restaurant (don’t worry, that’s not the best name I have in store for you) was everything I wanted in a breakfast. Breakfast is greasy, it’s your choice of meat but you always choose bacon, and it’s a lot of food. One thought: Jen I don’t know how you take pictures of your food without having the locals stare at you. I was such a tourist…not that I blend in anyway. I am at my most content when eating breakfast, and as I mopped up what was left of my over easy eggs with my butter soaked toast I was oblivious to my short sightedness of only staying one night, because that means only one breakfast.

Pile it on!!!

Pile it on!!!

LATER THAT DAY…

Did you know Monument has a food cart? I heard it was the talk of the town, and decided it would be a brilliant idea to meet my AmeriCorps member there.

Too scared to take a picture of the cart

Too scared to take a picture of the cart

I apologize for not taking a picture of the cart itself – I already felt like a tourist and the lady looked at me quizzically when I said I didn’t want anything on my hot dog. Not wanting to stir up any trouble, I didn’t push the issue by explaining that I was writing for a food blog, as it would seem my story did not match my entree. What can I say? I like my hot dogs naked. It’s the same as ordering a cheeseburger plain, so you can really judge for yourself if this is a tasty burger or if someone in back is smuggling in inferior goods. Moral of the story: If you’re ever in Monument for whatever reason, stop by the Chuckwagon.

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