LETTER TO BIRDLAND: SEATTLE THANSKGIVING

Foggy Seattle

IT'S FOGGY IN SEATTLE, AND THE SUN IS JUST RISING. I'm at the airport, waiting to board my plane back to Chicago. Chandra drove me through the dark streets, down the interstate. My oldest knows the way to the airport. It was not that early, 6:30, but the sun is just now rising an hour later. Winter days are short in Seattle.

Our Elegant Feast

Just yesterday we feasted on a rolled turkey breast, brined and herbed the night before. Chandra eats vegetarian on ethical and environmental grounds, but he made an exception for the holiday. Through the magic of technology, we connected with the rest of the family, feasting in Chicago. We each sent photos of our table. On ours, besides the turkey, was a lovely green salad, some artisan bread, and our dessert, a Persian sweet potato pie, like no pie I've ever made. We peeled and sliced the raw potatoes and arranged them in a spiral, like petals on a flower. Then poured over the petals a spiced brown sugar syrup. The crust was a wild experiment. After bragging that I could easily handle the crust, I decided to get fancy. First I thought I'd add cardamom, then I thought, "what about using half coconut oil and half butter?" At home I usually substitute flax meal for 1/4 cup of the flour, but when I saw that we had only bread flour, I also switched in some rice flour, sorghum flour (new to me) and some other kind of gluten free flour. All was fine until the rolling out, when our neat little ball of chilled dough shattered with the first touch of a rolling pin. "No problem, really," I told him. "We'll just do a pat-in-the-pan crust." Since we used a fancy brown sugar from India, the sugar syrup was dark, giving our potato-petaled flower lovely dark tones. We baked the pie and the bread and then had two hours for the turkey roll to slowly roast. "Do you want to go to Volunteer Park?" asked my boy.

Brisk walking kept us warm, and though it was foggy and damp, it was sweater weather. In Seattle most of our walks seem to be uphill. Walking in Seattle on a quiet Thanksgiving afternoon was peaceful. Winding up through the neighborhood toward the park we joined in the holiday spirit. Smells of turkey and sage wafted from various homes. Every block or so, we'd encounter a new delicious aroma. We passed one kitchen window with partly drawn shades to see hands chopping vegetables, the celery and carrots laid out in neat piles.

Pat-in-the-Pan saves the day.

Volunteer Park has lovely, expansive lawns and well-tended gardens. We walked up to the koi ponds. I remembered these lovely round ponds with lilies from my last visit, but now they were empty of fish. Close by is a wonderful round tower of rustic brick. "What's that?" I asked. "It's the water tower. We can go in," said Chandra. And so we climbed the hill to the tower, and climbed the spiral staircase up and up for a lovely view of Seattle. By now the fog had mostly cleared, but still a haze hung in the distance, haunting the skyline just a little bit. We looked out of the arched windows, through decorative iron railings. Then our turkey began calling us, so we descended the tower, the hill, the neighborhood, and returned to our dinner.

light and shadow in the water tower

Back at home it was time to phone the rest of the family. We had been texting pictures of our preparations across the continent. After we set our little table we made a call to Chicago. They had a lovely roast chicken and mashed potatoes, the traditional pie and cranberry sauce. We had our elegant feast. We teased back and forth. They had already eaten; we were about to sit down. "It's not a contest," said Chandra, "but we're winning."

Water Tower in Volunteer Park

 And now, here is my plane, ready to board. It will carry me over mountains and back to the prairie just in time to have a birthday feast with my middle boy, Dylan.

Fly in Beauty; Feast in Peace; Blessed Be.

Head East Young Man

FOR OUR LAST NIGHT IN SEATTLE, CHAD MADE CHANA MASALA FOR US, and naan on the grill. My oldest is an ambitious cook, making the dough from scratch, turning the flatbread on the grill with tongs. The meal was delicious and next morning we packed ourselves back into our little car and headed east to do our drive in reverse. Going out of town on I-5 we had a last look at the city where even a chink in the pavement becomes a garden. One small triangle of soil at the corner where Olive Way goes over the interstate is a wildish patch that looks weedy at first glance, but a closer inspection shows it has some kind of golden Asters in bloom and something with delicate stalks of lavender gray petals.  Hollyhocks stretch up to the sky with their tight, green buds that look like tiny Vidalia Sweet Onions. This patch is behind a chain link fence and surrounded by concrete, which juts out over the cars speeding by below. On one of our walks I showed it to Chad and he said that nobody tends it. “Probably it just grew there, or somebody seed bombed it.” I said, “I know. That's the point. Gardens just grow here for no particular reason.” Then I went home and googled “seed bombing.” Turns out it is a form of guerrilla gardening.

Ellis drives across the plains.

On the way home we did the longest leg first, across the state of Washington and the thumb of Idaho, then through the long state of Montana, which is aptly named. We passed the exit for Anaconda, where my grandmother was born. Anaconda is an old mining town, and I could see the smokestack in the hills. I have at home a copper spoon with a picture of that smokestack, proclaiming it the “World's Largest Stack.” I regretted not taking that exit as soon as we passed it. When would I travel this road again? 

A few miles later another sign marked the exit for the road to Opportunity and Anaconda. This time I took the opportunity to visit the land of my grandmother's birth.  We had to backtrack about seven miles, but it was worth it to see the rows of close set houses and imagine my grandmother walking here as a child one hundred years ago, looking up at the smokestack in the hills. It was worth it to call my mother from the grocery story there, and say, “Guess where I am?” 

"The World's Largest Stack"

We decided to sleep a little in Montana, and then continued on to Claire's ranch in Wyoming. On the way to Seattle we stayed with my childhood friend, but did little more than wrinkle up her sheets. This time we arrived in time for lunch and I asked to see the new foals she had been facebooking about. Claire's ranch home is in a natural bowl formed by the rolling hills. A road of red clay leads up to her house. I imagined we'd walk over one of these hills and find a little paddock with the horses. But this is a cattle ranch, and this is Wyoming. If Claire's house were at Birdland, the horses would not be in a pasture in the back 40 where I could see them from the kitchen window; they'd  be up at the ball diamond in town, and we'd have to drive there to see them. We got into the truck and drove out through two gates, Claire hopped out to open and then shut each gate, until I suggested that Ellis could do it. My youngest got an introduction to a wire gate, which is not common in the Midwest—simply fence wire stretched between two posts, one of them moveable so you can walk it across the drive and let the truck through. The foals were just 10 days old. One was a little skittish, but the other we could pet a little.

After the visit, Claire offered to call up a horse we could ride, and I thought I was in heaven. But my goodness, look at the time! I've got chores to do, so our riding adventure will have to wait til next time.

Journey in Beauty; Ride in Peace; Blessed Be.

SEATTLE TREASURES--Readers Respond and Request

Seattle really got people's attention--especially the donuts. I had more email and letters in response to the Seattle columns than any other. Most were interested in places to eat. Here are a few:

• Top Pot Donuts We went to the one on 5th street, since we were on our way to the needle, but the web page shows other locations including one on Capitol Hill. They also tell the fun story on the web page of how they got their name. My son says they have "the world's best donuts" but I have only tried the Old Fashioned Maple Iced. It might qualify, but more research is needed. (To help fund this important research, please see the sidebar.)  ;)
• Phở Cyclo Café  I've been there each time I've visited, and always enjoyed my lunch. The first time I had a lettuce wrap, and didn't realize until I was on the way out when I saw someone eating one, that I should have used the lettuce like a tortilla. Oh well, it was still delicious. Murals on all the walls open your view to a street scene, complete with other shops and restaurants, street signs, pedestrians, and cyclists.  I'm happy to suspend myself inside the belief that I'm really eating lunch on a sunny day on a Vietnamese street.
• B & O Espresso on Capitol Hill--here is where I had my first Seattle Breakfast last year. The pancakes with real maple syrup were just what I needed after my long trip.
• And don't forget to check out the Victrola Coffee Roasters (several locations. In some you can see them roasting the beans through a window to the roastery.) 

but honestly all my meal memories are running together into one big bite of deliciousness. Here's the thing about eating in Seattle. You'll find lots of international restaurants, and not too many national chains (except, of course, for coffee.) If you want Denny's or Applebee's you have to go to a suburb; we were very happy to stay in the city.


Do you have suggestions for places to visit in Seattle? Good food or quirky artwork? We'd love to hear them. (It's easy to comment here!) Or, if you have specific questions, please enter them too.