by Cory Tracy

Overindulgence

I am ordinarily chaste and lame, but I am an unrepentant whore for The Awesome, Portland’s premier ’80s cover band. The music is a refreshing reminder of my carefree childhood, and their shows invariably attract a full house of attractive women, so I see The Awesome whenever and wherever I can. In late July that was at Portland House of Music and Events, where I was joined by my Portland Check Mates chess friends Reggie Groff, Kathy Vilnrotter and Tim Flanders. The core members of The Awesome, most of whom also play in other local bands, are Michael Taylor (vocals, guitar and keyboard), Jennywren Walker (vocals and super-sexy cowbell), Joel Amsden (guitar and vocals), Peter Dugas (keys, vocals, and the occasional pennywhistle and flute), DJ Moore (drums) and Tyler Quist (bass and keys). Seeing The Awesome frees you to admire the past from a safe distance while enjoying the bittersweet flavor of lost youth.

Unpicked apples fall on the ground but never roll far from the tree. The next day, Kathy, Reggie, Tim and I met for lunch at Silly’s Restaurant, on inner Washington Ave. The guys and I are all longtime fans of Silly’s, a favorite destination since well before this neighborhood got popular, but Kathy, who’s relatively new to town, had never experienced the outlandish wonder of the place, so we had the pleasure of introducing her, starting with the witty and wide-ranging menu. I’m a nerdy vegetarian, so I got a meat-free Zombie Burger. Unfortunately the huge burger and side of delicious sweet-potato fries left no room for Silly’s cake. A slice of the towering cakes Silly’s makes in-house is a meal in itself. They usually have five or six kinds on hand, including a couple vegan varieties. We overstayed our welcome, chewing and chatting for about four hours, but somehow managed not to get kicked out.

I am also guilty of being an unabashed pancake whore. My parents divorced when I was pretty young and, though I lived with my mom, dad had me for the weekends. Every Sunday morning I would raid his cupboards and wreck his kitchen on a quest to quell my jones for flapjacks. One Saturday last month, I went to Local 188 to have brunch with my old friends Lisa and Bart Johnson. Local serves a thick pancake smothered in blueberry compote that makes me glad I’m such a glutton. I also crave the custom blend of coffee that Coffee By Design provides the restaurant. Lisa and Bart are semi-retired these days, living in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, and they do a lot of traveling. They told me about their hike along the Way of St. James, a pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela, the capital of Galicia, in northwestern Spain, where the remains of James the Great (the first Apostle) are said to rest in a cathedral. They also shared tales of chilling with Hindu and Buddhist holy men on the icy crags of Nepal. I countered with stories of chasing after women of ill-repute on Wharf Street late at night.

My last victory lap of caloric conquest took place at Baharat, a restaurant in East Bayside. Formerly a food truck, Baharat planted roots last spring on the ground floor of 89 Anderson, a new “modern living” apartment building at the corner of Fox and Anderson streets. I must admit I had an ulterior motive for visiting. My lust for food is famous, but my love of friends is my true calling, and though I am a potbellied wheelchair gremlin with a face like a page from a two-year-old’s coloring book, and she is a beacon of feminine perfection, Kristen Hill and I are friends. Kristen works at Baharat. The scene was sparse when I arrived but the place filled up fast, as did I. I ordered a falafel sandwich and the house salad. The falafel hit the bull’s-eye, but the salad — a rotating selection of veggies tossed with fresh herbs in a vinaigrette — took the meal to another level! For dessert I got a chocolate terrine (like a mousse, without the antlers) that came with a blueberry and lemon sorbet that challenged my affinity for simplicity.

Do yourself a favor and check out Baharat, but be prepared to overeat! And remember: people seek ways to distinguish themselves from others, but no matter how rich your tastes or how poor your judgment, we all use the same sewer system.