barbecue tour photos: part deux

[first installment here]

the barbecue tour

Things have been awful quiet around here, and for good reason: I've been on the road, enjoying the best barbecue the country has to offer--and some outstanding natural beauty along the way.  Since the state figuring most prominently in my plans has more in the way of smoked meats than scenery, I'm focusing on the culinary experience, calling it my Barbecue Tour.

Why a gastronomic excursion through the heartland? Because I love smoked meats, and because I need to gain weight.

I'll add more photos as I take 'em.



Added: More photos from the new Nikon.

the great smoky mountains (of meat)

Our next travelogue takes us the slow-cooked way home: to America's haven of barbecue, wherever it shall be found.  In 2005, lucky David Plotz made the quest:

I had read all the books (Smokestack Lightning, The Barbecue! Bible, Barbecue America etc.), seen the movie (Barbecue: A Texas Love Story), and glutted on Food Network barbecue shows. Now I decided to set out on a pilgrimage in search of the greatest barbecue joints in America, an R.W. Apple-ian gut-stuffing to sample as much 'cue of as many different varieties as I could in a week, to try to figure why barbecue was so distinctly American and where you should go to eat the best meat in the world.

He began at Oklahoma Joe's, which, I can attest, produces some of the finest pulled pork in Kansas City, which is to say, the universe.

journey to The Bigs

I'm a little jet lagged from a trip to the East Coast, so the next couple posts are going to be link-heavy travelogues. But not mine, because I'm tired and hungry with a brain and stomach three hours ahead of schedule.

In the first series, Jim Caple slices up life at every level of professional baseball in Washington state (with a quick jaunt to its northern neighbor). It's of interest to baseball fans, Pacific Northwesterners, and, most of all, students of the American Dream: doing what you love and being paid for it.

Caple begins his odyssey in Walla Walla:

This fertile region grows everything from wheat to grapes to onions, and pretty much everyone is planting their own dreams here, hoping they'll take root. The general manager sitting behind home plate dreams of running a major league team. The young man in the play-by-play booth dreams of calling games for a top pro team or a big Division I school. The enology and viticulture student running the concessions dreams of operating a world-class winery. Even Sweet Lou, the giant onion mascot, is dreaming up routines for next season.

Continue with him to Victoria, Everett, and Tacoma--and, if you're one of a lucky few, stride into Safeco Field with a number on your back and a fatty paycheck in your pocket. The vast gulf between the majors and the minors will never seem vaster.

And when you're done, watch Sugar.

stray Victoria observations

1. Headed to Victoria, BC? Be prepared to spend big bucks. It's the world's classiest tourist trap.

2. There are three (three!) shelves of Scotch at the Bard and Banker, Robert Service's honorary pub, including a single malt that must have been distilled by angels, given its price. This led me, otherwise unprovoked, to utter this impromptu Service-esque poem:

Some lads they like to drink a lot
And some drink even more
But now and then a lad requires
A sixty dollar pour.

It is really, really easy to write in Service's lilting meter. You should try it.

3. Here's one for fusion: East African + East Indian = Spice Jammer. Which also equals deliciousness.

4. Also recommended: the mini breakfast and pastries at the Dutch Bakery and Coffee Shop. Just before we entered, a gray-haired matriarch in a periwinkle blue dress opened the door, held it for us, and said, "It's the best place in town." We must have been the only couple under 40 in the place, but if other young folks aren't hip to the pastry scene, fine by us.

5. Was quite happy to find a Nando's, even with the inflated Victoria prices. Peri peri chicken is ridiculously tasty. If someone wants to open a Seattle franchise, you have my blessing.

things I learned in New Mexico

I spent the last five days in Montezuma, New Mexico, attending an IB conference at UWC-USA. In five days of classes, meals, road trips, and bull sessions, I learned a few things.

1. My students are even more competent than I imagine. When it comes to IB rubrics, I tend to be stingy with 5's, and now I know why: I expect a 5 to be like the writing of an accomplished graduate of a top-tier university English program. After eight sessions focusing on English assessment, I realize that a 5 isn't perfection.

2. Moderating my assessment doesn't mean I'm going to change how I teach. Big, big difference.

3. They call New Mexico "The Land of Enchantment" for a reason. The reason involves scorpions, brown bears, skunks, wildflowers, piny woods, sage, rock outcroppings, mosquitoes, and thunderstorms.

4. Teachers dance. I was not mentally (or spiritually?) prepared for that.

5. Every education workshop should start with a two hour bus ride and should be hosted in a building that necessitates having a roommate. Nothing better for socializing--more on this in a bit.

6. I am a natural introvert, although I've figured out how to overcome my extreme discomfort while mingling, or when scanning a cafeteria for an open seat. On the first day I resolved to sit at a new table each day, introduce myself, and then--and this is key, introverts--let the extroverts take over from there. They tend to draw you in to the conversation and draw you out of yourself.

7. People seem to appreciate it when you do the right thing without making a fuss.

8. I can't write an ode on command.

9. I felt most like a true student when learning the art of the cowboy hat in the Popular Dry Goods on Bridge Street in Las Vegas, New Mexico. (The one featured in No Country for Old Men, as the owner, a lifelong local who, sadly, wasn't featured in the film, was happy to share. Under his guidance, I stood where Josh Brolin stood. Not usually a fanboy, but come on, it's the Coen brothers.) The sales assistant, the owner's daughter, provided the lesson, patiently waiting as I dithered over styles and materials and colors. Hope you like the hat, Dad.

10. I didn't get to say this to everyone I met, but: thanks.

greetings from NFL Nationals

We're "Jazzin' it up in KC" at the NFL National Tournament, waiting for the second flight of the first round of Public Forum to commence. How'd we get here? By surviving...

* Construction-based traffic delay in Lakewood, WA that nearly made us miss our flight out of SeaTac. Luckily, at 11:15 p.m., you can breeze through security in five minutes.

* Thunderstorms. Like last year's trek to Birmingham, we were greeted with flash flood-bearing fireworks shows. We missed the ones that delayed a few flights on Sunday morning, and then tried, and failed, to sleep through the one that lit up and drowned the city last night. But no floods in our neighborhood, this time, at least.

* Free hotel breakfast. It is, in fact, possible to screw up cranberry juice.

* Google Maps' directions. Exit on the left? Exit on the left!

Flight B starts in 13 minutes. It's gonna be great.

pack smarter

Ten days, one carry-on. I'd tried the rolling-'em-up trick before, but never so comprehensively. And the folding-over-the-other-clothing trick is a new one.

The slideshow couldn't have come at a better time: I'll be traveling to Missouri, Wyoming, New Mexico, and Vermont in the next three months.

bear fail

From Newcastle Trip '09

Even though we knew what the sign was trying to accomplish, every time we drove past it, we cracked up.

at the Museum of the Rockies

Earlier this summer, a group of unrowdy atheists, agnostics, freethinkers, and otherwise scientifically inclined skeptics descended upon Ken Ham's infamous Creation "Museum" in Petersburg, Kentucky. Pseudoscience-bashing fun was had by all.

As an intellectual palate-cleanser, I'd recommend that they make tracks to the Museum of the Rockies in Bozeman, Montana, which I visited for the first time a few days ago.

The Museum--which covers many other aspects of Montana's fascinating history--seems to have little patience for pseudoscience. Which is good. Though it lacks the size and grandeur of the Royal Tyrell Museum, its neighbor to the north, it's also a lot cheaper ($10 for adults) and a lot cleverer. Consider it the anti-Creation-"Museum."

Here are a few of the photos I took.

hooperhacking

Last weekend, Melissa and I helped Mom and Dad move to Newcastle, Wyoming. On a Saturday evening, after we tired of unpacking, the folks suggested that we take a drive through the area. (We brought our cameras along.) Mom says that when she was a teenager, she and her friends would similarly roam about the countryside, a practice she calls "hooperhacking."

At this point on the World Wide Web, this very blog is the only reference to such a cultural phenomenon, so I cannot say with any authority that the term "hooperhacking" belongs anywhere but in her crazy imagination.

the history of South Dakota tourism

To understand the profusion of roadside attractions along Highway 16 from the Wyoming border to Rapid City, you have to know your history.

In 1934, the United States suffered through a crippling Depression. As a way to spur economic development, Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed the Tourism Restoration and Protection Act* into law, designating the southwestern corner of South Dakota as a National Cash Extraction Zone. The Act provided for the construction of a gigantic statue carved into the Black Hills, to be called the Mount of the Three Presidents, honoring Lincoln, Washington, and Jefferson.**

The TRPA enjoyed limited immediate success, bearing most of its fruit after the end of the Second World War, as hundreds of thousands of Americans, hungry for a sense of normalcy, descended upon South Dakota like gnats on a banana.

In 1964, the United Nations proclaimed the region a World Old-Timey Heritage Area,*** ensuring the maintenance of Reptile Gardens, Cartoon-Based Theme Parks, Chuck Wagon Dinners, Mystery Areas, and Ridiculous Tram Rides for generations to come.




*Or, as it was affectionately known, the Tourist Trap Act.
**Teddy Roosevelt's bespectacled face was added to the plan upon the insistence of nephew Franklin Delano, who refused to sign the TRPA without it.
***Only one other site in the United States has merited such a designation: the Drug Store That Shall Not Be Named.

Astoria trip photos: part I

My wife and I took a weekend jaunt to Astoria, Oregon (and then north to the Long Beach peninsula) to celebrate our fifthiversary. Some of the photos are available here.

Update: I've added fifteen more shots, previewed below.



Update Update: There will be no Part II. Instead, I added captions.

Saint Helens in late summer

Today Melissa and I drove to Mount Saint Helens via the Hwy 504 entrance, headed to the Johnston Ridge Observatory.


Pictures were taken from the observatory and nearby trails.



The observatory / apocalyptic bunker in question.



"The Message of the Mountain," the cheesy yet entertaining video that the Observatory features every half hour, and which desperately needs some updated computer graphics, said that in the immediate blast zone, trees as large as 8 feet in diameter snapped like twigs.



What might you see when you're not gawking at the volcano.



Free the dandelions.



Look closely to see the peak hiding in the background.



The professional (that is, the one with the fancy camera) at work.



Along the Boundary Trail, a short walk from the Observatory (or the parking lot).



A memorial to those who perished in the blast.



The observatory as seen from the Boundary Trail.



One last look.

such a coy mountain

Drove to Mount Rainier today, hiking up Rampart Ridge in expectation of a lovely view of the peak. The trail, though steep, is almost entirely shaded if you go at it clockwise from the Trail of the Shadows.

Everything would've turned out brilliantly, except for interfering clouds.

Smith Rock on a hot day

photos of Crater Lake

From one of the many photographic vantage points near the Rim Visitor Center.



Lingering snow + pesky mosquitoes = Picnic Hell.



A dead tree helpfully points to a cinder cone called Wizard Island.



Afternoon rain.



Hypnotic and meditative and multifaceted, there is no blue quite like the blue of Crater Lake.

Lava Butte

Lava Butte, part of the Newberry National Volcanic Monument, is accessible only with a special half-hour parking permit attained at the Lava Lands Visitor Center registration booth, where one is adjured to watch the 15-minute introductory video before departing for the butte. (Did you know that geology is an ongoing process? Crazy!)



The view from the top, looking down into the landscaping rock collection bowl.



Looking back from the trail, wistfully.



A foolish, foolish tree.

Fourth at the Fort

I spent this year's Fourth of July with some of my favorite people at one of my favorite places, Oregon's Fort Rock. From our campsite at La Pine State Park, in two cars, eight family members rode roughly fifty miles in late morning sunshine, ready for a hike in the heat at the geological oddity that rises out of the desert like a... fort. As you can see.



While I was scouting a route up the right side--and not finding one amenable to the less daring / foolish members of the group--others hiked around the base.



A pocket gopher makes a rare appearance atop the formation.



The lizard asked if I was going to blog the photo, and I said not if he didn't want to, and he shrugged and said no biggie.



Triumph.



If you're into the easy way, when you start up the trail to the interior, head left toward the path you can see snaking up the side. If you're into the hard way, good on you. You're gonna love Fort Rock.

why I love Olympia

I recently received an email from far, far away:

So somehow this zany kayaking family found your blog and were wondering if someone such as yourself could shed some (sun)light? on why a crew with two little boys (4th and 6th grade) would love Olympia (or not). We're particularly interested in your opinions on the schools!

Thanks for your help!

Happy to, kayaking out-of-towners. I have many reasons to love Olympia. So I don't seem obsessed, I'll stick with just ten, keeping brand names out of it, and let others chime in as they wish.


The people.
Friendly, laid back, passionate. Hippie-greener-preppy-hipster-wonk-logger-retiree-goth-punks dot the landscape.

Downtown.
Restaurants, galleries, wine shops, too many coffee bars to count, restaurants, antique stores, more restaurants, book stores, the fountain, the Ugly Building, more coffee bars.

Arts Walk.
Combines the best of 1 and 2. Art, local mostly, with food, music, and a cast of thousands. Walk from station to station on the tour, or just amble around aimlessly, people-watching all the while. On a successive Friday and Saturday, the April version is best; it includes the fabled Procession of the Species.

The waterfront.

At sunset the boardwalk, with its view of the Capitol and the Olympics, as picturesque as it gets. Anytime, it's a perfect place for a stroll. It's especially entertaining during Harbor Days. Oh, and there's plenty of kayaking to be done, too.

The Capitol.
Modeled after the one in D.C., our state capitol is beautiful inside and out. Gad about in the rotunda or on the grassy campus, then take a walk down the hillside toward Capitol Lake. (Ride The Dash back to your car, if your feet get tired.)

The Spaghetti Bowl.

The name comes from the spaghetti feed fundraiser that always precedes the contest. The game starts after seven, but people line up for hours to get good seats at one of the most exciting sports events in the South Sound. Crosstown rivals Olympia High and Capital battle it out in Ingersoll stadium in front of thousands of screaming fans. Goodwill always prevails in the form of blended marching bands and drill teams for halftime entertainment.

Batdorf and Bronson coffee.
Broke the rule. But Batdorf and Bronson coffee is the greatest in existence, and is available all over Olympia in its flagship store, associated coffee shops and stands, and whatever restaurants and cafes have good taste in caffeine.

The location.

Crave the city? Seattle's an hour north; Portland's two south. Pine for the cedars? National parks and forests, including Mounts Rainier, Adams, Saint Helens, and the magnificent Olympic range, are within easy driving distance. (Pictured: view from Mount Ellinor.) The coast is close, too.

The schools.
You'll have to pardon my bias, since I teach at Capital High School and am a pretty big fan of the Olympia School District. Our neighboring districts--Tumwater, Griffin, and North Thurston--are nice, but I can only speak for the schools I know and love.

Like every district in the area, we're going through rough financial times, but the quality of an Olympia School District education is still excellent. We have great elementary and middle schools, with lots of options. Our high schools offer a panoply of challenging courses--AP at Olympia, International Baccalaureate at Capital--and choices, from Avanti to New Market to ORLA to Running Start at South Puget Sound.

The Evergreen State College
One of the nation's best, and best-known, progressive institutions. It's where I earned my master's in teaching and where my wife earned her bachelor's in American Studies / Anthropology / Spanish / Smartness. Tucked away in the woods on the west side of town, it's a haven for culture, weirdness, and life lived organically. The pulse of Olympia beats from the heart of Evergreen.

Odds and ends.
The Farmers Market rocks.
You'll never run out of patchouli.
The rain is endearing.
Traffic's never too bad.

Have your own reasons to love Olympia? Add them in the comments.