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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The Daily Bagel in Klamath Falls

The Daily Bagel in Klamath Falls

Three-hundred and sixty degrees of snow dusted hills surround Klamath Falls. The city (it is a city) is clustered around a friendly historic downtown and the long stretch of Sixth Avenue, which reaches out from the center to the edges of town.

Arriving bleary eyed from the airport (they have two flights in and out each day from Portland and San Francisco), I hopped into my pop can sized rental car and followed directions to the city center.

After cruising up and down the main drags, I settled in at The Daily Bagel to kick start my day. In addition to the attractive typeface heralding their name, the Daily Bagel boasts a delightful selection of artisan bagels and some sweeter treats.

I had the raisin-oat, which was quite reasonable, and, unlike all the other artisan bagels I have had in the past three years, it did NOT cause me to break into full body hives. Go Daily Bagel! This curious turn of events could be related to a number of factors:

  1. It was a raisin bagel instead of blueberry bagel. While I am not generally allergic to blueberries, it is entirely possible that I am allergic to them when they occur in  artisan bagels.
  2. The Daily Bagels were not as artisan as the other artisan bagels I have consumed. For some reason, commercial, pre-packaged bagels do not provoke an allergic reaction. So, it is entirely possible that The Daily Bagel provides less of an artisan experience than I give them credit for.
  3. My overall sense of well-being was particularly high since I had just discovered that spending two days in Klamath Falls was not going to be so bad after all. Therefore, I didn’t have any stress induced histo-immune reaction to the artisan bagel.

Regardless, it is great to start the morning, and a trip, by taking in some majestic scenery and languidly consuming a quality bagel, especially one that does not cause a full body rash, before jumping into a day of meetings in K Falls. Highly recommended.

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Mix Sweet ShopOf all places outside the Metro area, I would argue that Ashland jives most with the tastes of Portlanders. The downtown is packed with cozy restaurants, breweries, independent bookstores, and clothing stores. The shopping district invite you to amble and linger without seeming like a contrived outdoor mall. If that is not enough, travelers from the City of Roses have yet another reason to feel at home in Rogue Valley: Mix Sweet Shop serves their beloved Stumptown Coffee.

Featuring a requisite orange La Marzocco, Mix Sweet Shop not only makes the coffee of choice for most Portlanders, they do it with the right machine. And, while I am aware there is a backlash against Stumptown rising up in Stumptown for expanding beyond the city, I still find its presence a reassuring welcome sign when traveling. The little swift carrying its banner seems to say, “You’ll like it here. Sit down. Stop thinking so much. We’ll cater to your kind.” Which, as I age, all sounds pretty good. Thanks for pandering to me. I will reward you with my patronage every time I return.

Inside Mix Sweet Shop

Inside Mix Sweet Shop

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Wilson Ranches Retreat Bed and Breakfast Sign

Wilson Ranches Retreat Bed and Breakfast Sign

First of all: There are no locks at Wilson Ranches Retreat. At least not on the guest bedrooms. And, while I think they exist on the front and back doors, there seems to be no reason to employ them. On the back deck, bobble-headed ceramic owls with yellow eyes do all the spooking that needs to be done.   Along the slopes behind the house, a large herd of black and brown cattle graze. Calves frolic in the stream cutting through the bright green floor of the valley. And the sky is lit from chalk blue to near black as the weather rolls between sunny and sleeting. 

Second of all: This is serious dude country. The owners’ son scooted over to the Bed and Breakfast at 6:00 AM to ready our breakfast in starched Wranglers and striped button-up. The official story for his cooking in place of his folks was that his parents were needed in Portland, but I am guessing his father was pretty wiped out still from the “calving” over the past few weeks. Apparently, he stays up all night with the cows as they give birth. For a city slicker such as myself, that sounds exhausting.

The herd at Wilson Ranches.

The herd at Wilson Ranches.

Additionally, the other guests (long-time friends of the owners) showed me photographs of a cougar, splayed out triumphantly on the driveway of another rancher. One less big kitty to disturb the herd. I learned that if you do find yourself in possession of a puma carcass, your one responsibility is to send in a tooth for age verification. Fascinating.

 

Bobble-headed ceramic owl on the back deck.

Bobble-headed ceramic owl on the back deck.

Third of all: Grandmother’s biscuit recipe puts all other recipes to shame. Light, fluffy, perfectly browned on the outside and flakey on the inside. Our chef noted to another guest that he only uses his grandmother’s recipe. Good move, cowboy. No need to mess with a good thing. The rest of the breakfast included scrambled eggs, “porridge” also known as oatmeal with “the fixin’s” (brown sugar, pecans, cranberries and raisins), fried ham slices, and homemade jam. It was decent, but those biscuits stole my heart.

And, because, fourth of all: Fossil is a ridiculously friendly place, the other guests found me a ziplock bag to take the leftover biscuits home.

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