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I'm in Portland, Oregon, reporting a story on the city's distillery explosion (as in growth, not BOOM). On the plane ride in I read an article about Twitter, an online community/forum/microblog where users post very short snippets about their day (e.g. "I'm buying orange juice at the 7-11," or "I'm scratching my armpit"). I decided to do some twittering in Portland, sending myself the best snippets of my trip. Here goes:
-Saturday, 7:21 p.m.: Eating a salad of fennel sausage, octopus, fried potatoes and squid ink dressing at the minimalist-hip Clyde Commons.
-Saturday, 9:37 p.m.: Waiting in line at Pok Pok, a frustratingly popular new Thai restaurant and bar.
-Saturday, 10:11 p.m.: Still waiting.
-Saturday, 10:34 p.m.: Giving up.
-Sunday, 12:14 a.m.: Drinking a glass of Zwack Unicum, a potent Hungarian digestif, at the loungey bar Apotheke (pronounced "apo-tec-ah," I'm told).
-Sunday, 10:18 a.m.: Eating restorative biscuits and gravy at the truck-stop-chic Doug Fir.
-Sunday, 6:58 p.m.: Pouring over the pinxtos selection at Toro Bravo, a friendly new Spanish restaurant.
-Sunday, 8:15 p.m.: Sitting at the kitchen counter at The Country Cat, a new upscale Southern restaurant from a former Wildwood chef de cuisine.
-Sunday: 8:43 p.m.: Staring at a stack of skillet-fried chicken with braised lettuce and grilled onions.
-Sunday: 8:55 p.m.: Hog three ways with grits and plums. I'm full.
-Sunday, 9:11 p.m.: Butterscotch pudding. Yum.
-Sunday: 9:33 p.m.: Working up the courage for more food.
-Sunday, 11:07 p.m.: A table at Pok Pok. Score!
-Sunday, 11:33 p.m.: Nirvana: fried chicken wings marinated with a sticky-sweet fish sauce glaze.
-Monday, 12:09 p.m..: Wishing for another glass of Zwack.