Tag Archives: food carts

Oma…huh?!

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A few days ago, I was in a weird place. I don’t mean physically – there’s nothing odd about my townhouse – but rather, in a strange state of mind. How do I know this? Because I found myself looking at classified ads in Omaha. Omaha! WTF is that all about?! Omaha isn’t even one of the places I visited, though I did pass through. For some reason I got it in my head that Omaha might be a nice place to live, so I started researching the job market and the climate and looking at the demographics, cost of living, etc. My reasoning for this temporary bout of Nebraska madness? I’ve always said I wished it would snow more here, and Omaha is not hurting in the snow department. No, sirree: they average 30″ a year. Plus, I reasoned, there’s a Raising Cane’s about an hour away. Anytime I craved chicken fingers, I could get ‘em! Based on the abundance of snow and the proximity of chicken fingers, for a few brief minutes I seriously considered uprooting my whole life and moving to the midwest.

Fortunately, sanity prevailed. An hour later, I wondered what the hell I had been thinking! I’m sure Omaha is great – the Counting Crows sing a nice little ode to it, after all – but, come on. I don’t have a Cornhusker mentality! The Pacific Northwest is my home, and I love it here. I don’t want to live anywhere else. Something similar happened years ago, after I took a business trip to Boston. Suddenly I was sending away for Massachusetts relocation packets and studying the housing market. I even started watching Good Will Hunting often, so I could pick up the Bahs-ton accent and blend in with the locals. Again, that time too, I came to my senses. I guess it’s just the allure of something new. I’ve often said, those first six months after moving up here in 1994 were the most exciting and happiest time of my life. Everything was new, and life was one big adventure. I sort of feel like a crack addict trying to chase after that elusive first high – it’s never the same again, no matter how many hits you take.

I’ve heard, that is.

I attributed my weird Omaha craving to a passing fancy, a fleeting “what if” moment in time that quickly disappeared. Still, I figured the best cure of all – one sure way to guarantee this wouldn’t happen again (and I mean no offense to Omaha people, of course) – was to give myself a fun day in Portland. It had been about a month since I’d even seen my favorite city, so I was overdue anyway. I needed a big ol’ dose of the Rose City in order to set myself straight again and ensure those crazy thoughts would not return. Kind of like a Portland immunization, if you will. An inoculation to prevent any weird I-think-I’ll-become-a-Nebraskan! diseases from developing.

So this morning, I took myself to town, if you will. It was lunchtime, so my first stop was the food cart pod at 10th and Alder. After debating my choices, I opted for a Thai chicken and rice dish from Nong’s Khao Man Gai, which I ate in O’Bryant Square, beneath a gunmetal gray sky that carried with it the hint of a light breeze. I love the hustle and bustle of the city – it energizes me, and makes me feel electric. And the weather? Perfect! A lot of people are complaining about our lack of summer this year. It has been unusually cloudy and cool – the temperature hovered only in the mid-60s all week, and we barely saw the sun – but with news reports of this massive heatwave gripping 2/3 of the country, I am certainly not complaining! I experienced heat and humidity aplenty during my trip. I am loving our weather this year! (Seven day forecast for Omaha: 92/93/96/100/100/100/97. Seven day forecast for Portland: 76/69/73/72/74/70/74. It’s not even close: we win, hands down. And I’ll bet those 70s are optimistic).

After lunch, I drove myself to Forest Park. Forest Park is a sprawling, vast forested wilderness that covers 5100 acres and stretches for eight miles over the hillsides of the Willamette River. It’s a leafy green oasis that is within the Portland city limits, making it the largest forest in a major metropolitan city in the U.S. It’s got a vast network of hiking trails and is home to all sorts of wildlife. And, shockingly, before today I had never been there. This was a serious wrong that needed righting! After all, not only do I love Portland to death, but I’m also an avid hiker. This month’s issue of Portland Monthly featured a big spread on Forest Park and a handy, detachable map, so I stuffed that into my backpack, wound my way into the park, stopped the car, and commenced my hike.

And promptly got lost.

Actually, that’s not true. I was never lost! I just didn’t exactly know where I was at all times. But I knew how to get back to my car, so again, I contend that there is a difference and I was. not. lost. The problem? Forest Park is so big, it’s overwhelming. There are trails bisecting other trails that intersect still other trails. Many of them are interconnected, like a giant spiderweb. But they’re not all marked. Case in point: I came to a junction of five trails, and only three had signs. I studied my sort-of-worthless map for a good five minutes before deciding the trail I wanted was second from the right. The good news: it turned out I was correct! The bad news: I was by now way off course. It really didn’t matter, though – the scenery was stunning. After walking forever, I came to a sign for the Ridge Trail, and came to a screeching halt. “What the hell?” I said out loud, whipping out my map and studying it again. The Ridge Trail was a hike I had contemplated originally, but decided to save for another time as it was way out of my way. Only, apparently, I had hiked so far off course it was right there! “How can this be?” I said, still talking to myself out loud, when another approaching hiker made me jump. She was coming off the Ridge Trail and had clearly heard me holding a conversation with, umm, nobody. How embarrassing! We chatted briefly, though – she was cute, after all – and I decided to walk the twenty minutes or so down the Ridge Trail for the fantastic view of the St. John’s Bridge that had caught my eye in the magazine. Cute hiker assured me it was worth it “if you like bridges,” and I’ve never met a bridge I didn’t like, so I decided to check it out. The Ridge Trail descends 1000 vertical feet (!) and though I wasn’t starting from the top, it was still plenty steep enough. Sure enough, the view of the bridge was breathtaking. Then, of course, I had to conquer the uphill portion of the climb, and that was a killer. Totally worth it, though. I finally made it back to my car 3.5 hours after setting out. I had planned on taking a gentle, scenic 3-mile loop hike, but ended up doing nearly 9 miles instead. Oops.

But you know what? I had an amazing day. This was exactly what I needed! Omaha who?! Portland and I are a match made in heaven.

View of the St. John's Bridge and Portland, from a confusing junction of five trails in Forest Park. Love the cloudy, cool day!

Forest Park is aptly named.

Tiger lily (according to my Nat'l Audubon Society Field Guide). These were growing in clearings throughout Forest Park.

Most definitely not scenery you'd find in Omaha.

Forest Park, Portland

The St. John's Bridge, as seen from the bottom of the Ridge Trail.

What’s In A Name?

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I’m getting pretty serious about this whole blogging thing. So much so that, when I spent a few hours at Powell’s Books in downtown Portland earlier in the week, I emerged with a book called Blogging For Fame And Fortune. Now, I don’t honestly expect to get rich or famous here. For one thing, I cringe at the idea of selling ad space – I think that detracts from the “professional” image I’m trying to establish. The truth is, I’m just trying to have fun and hopefully showcase my writing style. It’s one more weapon in my let’s-get-published arsenal. But the book does have tons of good advice on blogging, everything from what to write about to how to market it and which widgets to add. I tore through 100 pages that first day. I’m eating this stuff up.

Finding the perfect domain name is tough! (Image courtesy of drylinehosting.com).

I’d been thinking about domain names for awhile. WordPress is awesome – easy to use, great features, tons of support – but I’m trying to build a “brand name”, if you will. Mark My Words. It’s catchy, and since my name is Mark, and these are my words, well…it’s pretty much perfect. So I thought, instead of having people find me through http://markp427.wordpress.com, how cool would it be if I owned markmywords.com? So I did a bit of research, located a domain name registrar (godaddy.com – so that’s what they do! I only knew their name from those sexy Super Bowl ads they air every year). I eagerly typed markmywords.com into the search field…only to find that the domain name was already registered. To some guy in Virginia, who’d bought it in 2000 and paid up through 2016. Now, there was no corresponding website, so basically this guy was just sitting on the name. He probably owns countless others. People snatch those things up and then turn around and try to sell them for a profit. If only I’d had a crystal ball and registered something like starbucks.com when the internet was in its infancy. I might be a rich man today.

So, I contacted the guy. There are domain name acquisition services, that typically charge $60-$70 + 10% commission to contact the domain name owners and negotiate a sale for you, but why pay somebody else to do your own dirty work? All that information is public, and contained in what’s called a WhoIs database. I sent Carl a brief, polite e-mail. Said I was just wondering if he might be willing to sell the domain name to me. His response was very to-the-point.

I live in America; everything is for sale, only question is how much. This is pricy, but give it a shot.

Which immediately established Carl as a greedy little bastard. I could go on an anti-Capitalism rant here, but I already have a well-deserved reputation as a liberal, so I’ll abstain. I would consider paying, I don’t know, $100 or so for the domain name, but the guy owns it for another six years and I’m sure his asking price is considerably higher. Plus, I’m unemployed. So, I went back to godaddy.com and searched for alternate names. Good news: markmywords.asia was available! Bad news: dot Asia?! I know I’m a celebrity in Japan, but still. I also could have purchased .co (too confusing, everybody would be looking for the missing “m”); .cc (never heard of it); and .mobi (huh?). None of those appealed to me. Then I saw a suggestion box with other alternate possibilities. mymarkmywords.com, themarkmywords.com, markmywordstoday.com. Most of them were stupid and made no sense. But…wait a minute…there was markmywordssite.com. Hmm – not too bad. Makes sense – it’s the website for markmywords. Definitely keeps the focus on the tagline. It was available for $11.95 a year, so I decided to bite the bullet and snatched it up. I was almost giddy with excitement – I owned my own domain name!!

Where's .asia? (Image courtesy of thedigeratilife.com).

About 30 seconds later, I realized, I had no idea what to do with it, though. I figured there had to be a way to link my existing WP blog to it, and luckily, there was. It took a few brief steps – changing the “nameservers” on my registered domain, and then paying another $12/year to WordPress in order to make it my primary name. But, voila – it’s done! And, for me – considering my long-term goals – worth it. Now, anybody can find me at: http://markmywordssite.com. The WP link will also redirect there. I like that it feels more professional. Plus, it’s just cool, owning your own domain name.

You know what, Carl? Bite me.

This past week I would characterize as a good mixture of business and pleasure. I’d been cooped up too much the week before, and while searching for a job is important, taking time out to do other things and have some fun is crucial. I had a mandatory “Orientation to Re-Employment Services” meeting at the local worksource center early on Tuesday morning, which was kind of a drag, because it’s depressing to sit around in a room with a bunch of other unemployed people. Plus, they made me get up early. The nerve! While a lot of the information was pretty basic – how to fill out forms, the importance of resumes – I did learn a few things, and met one-on-one with an employment specialist, so in the end it was worth it. That afternoon I took myself to the movies to see Paranormal Activity 2 because a couple of the local theaters have $5 Tuesdays. Great price, considering matinees are now upwards of $8. I may have to make this a weekly ritual. The movie was good – creepy, and lived up to the original.

Wednesday was a completely lazy day. I never showered or even changed out of my pajama pants. I won’t make that a habit, but it was cold and rainy, and it felt good to do that. I still looked for jobs, and found a good one to apply for, so it’s not like I didn’t do anything. Thursday I trekked into Portland for the aforementioned visit to Powell’s. Before that, I hunted down one of the city’s infamous food carts, Koi Fusion. They offer up a fusion of Korean and Mexican food, and are always ranked as one of the best food carts in town. I tried a spicy pork burrito that came loaded with both rice and kimchee. Sure enough, it was delicious! I should do a proper review on another entry. It was one of those soaking wet days with constant heavy rain showers rolling through, and I ended up drenched, but had a blast anyway.

I’m not sure what this weekend holds in store. The weather is turning colder, and they’re throwing around the “S” word a lot. As in, snow. Not a big deal in other parts of the country, but here in the Pacific Northwest, a little bit of snow shuts down the city. Sounds like our best chance is Sunday night and Monday, so it wouldn’t surprise me if the kids end up with a snow day, seeing as how the public education system around here goes into a panic the moment a few flurries fall.

Crossing my fingers though, because I love snow.

Revenge Of The Pod People

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In the old days, we sneered at them in derision.  They were called “roach coaches” and, when they blasted their horns to announce their lunchtime arrival, we rolled our eyes.  At best, we might end up with a lukewarm burrito or a sandwich that wasn’t too soggy.  We certainly didn’t expect haute cuisine.  And yet, these days, a full-blown revolution is under way in Portland, Oregon.  The once-lowly food cart has been elevated to a lofty new culinary perch, one in which the food is varied and ethnic and inspiring and delicious, giving regular brick-and-mortar establishments a run for their money.  And, you know what?  I want in.

Mum's Kitchen dishes out "Indian South African" cuisine.

I remember my first food cart experience fondly.  Wandering through the Farmer’s Market one spring afternoon, I stumbled upon a green-and-white trailer with the name Mum’s Kitchen.  It billed itself as offering “Indian South African cuisine.” I’m not real familiar with either, and even less so with a fusion of both, but it sounded much more intriguing than a tired burger from a fast-food chain, so I ponied up for their special of the day – “roti rolls” filled with pork and cabbage, and chicken curry.  One bite and I was hooked.  They were aromatic and flavorful, wonderfully exotic and spicy.  So much so that tears were streaming down my face as I munched away.  Oh, baby.  I like it hot.  I was in heaven.  My initiation into the Portland food cart scene now complete, I decided to hunt down the cart that Portland Monthly named their best last year, Nong’s Khao Man Gai, on my next free Friday.

Southwest Alder Street, between 10th and 11th Avenues, is one of a growing number of food cart “pods” in the Portland area: clusters of carts set up in parking lots or vacant fields.  Think of an outdoor food court, and you’ll have a pretty good idea of what they are like.  There are at least a dozen carts in this particular pod, probably the best-known in the city, catering to office workers and tourists alike.  Food choices range from sandwiches and frozen yogurt to Vietnamese pho and Polish Hunter’s Stew.  Nong’s cart, which not surprisingly had the longest line, serves one dish, and one dish only: khao man gai, a popular Thai dish that is, literally, chicken and rice.  Doesn’t sound very inspiring, and yet, I was amazed by the depths of flavor.  The chicken, served atop a bed of rice, is wonderfully tender, and the accompanying broth – a gingery, garlicky, sweetly spicy Asian blend – is to die for.  You also get a cup of winter squash soup which is refreshingly hot and tasty, and a side of sliced cucumbers.  For $6, this is a steal.  Nong’s lives up to the hype.

Typical lunchtime crowd at Nong's Khao Man Gai.

With so many great food carts spread around town, many of them earning rave reviews, I’ve begun to think that this is something I’d like to do.  I’m a pretty good cook, and watching shows like Top Chef, Hell’s Kitchen, and Master Chef has awakened in me dreams of running my own kitchen.  Only I have no formal training and can’t exactly afford to go to culinary school.  Sure, it would be great to own a restaurant, and Portland is quite the hot spot for foodies.  But my chances for success in that realm are slim to none: I’m hardly a skilled chef, and it takes hundreds of thousands of dollars to open a restaurant.  You’ll have to deal with permits, zoning issues, leasing or buying a building, hiring and paying employees, etc.  Even then, roughly half go out of business within a year.  Not very good odds no matter how you slice and dice (and julienne) it!  However, with Portland’s growing reputation as a food cart mecca (articles extolling the local scene have appeared in newspapers like the New York Times and Washington Post, and  Budget Travel awarded Portland first-place for “World’s Best Street Food” in 2010), I figure my best shot at becoming my own boss lies right here in my own backyard.  I’d love to open my own food cart.  Turns out, it’s surprisingly easy – and considerably less expensive than you might think – to get started in the Rose City.

The biggest expense is going to be the cart itself.  Those little umbrella-covered push-carts so ubiquitous to hot dog vendors are a thing of the past; nowadays, food carts are likelier to be renovated campers or Airstream trailers.  Still, if you scout around for a good deal, you can pick one up for a few thousand dollars.  Add in the cost of plumbing and electrical modifications, equipment, and a license from the city of Portland, and you could get your venture off the ground and running for less than $10,000 – dirt cheap when you consider the cost of starting up your own business in a more traditional environment.

Proof that food carts have come a long way! Khao man gai from Nong's.

I’m under no delusions that the work is easy, or a guaranteed way to get rich quick.  Even though the majority of carts around town are open Monday-Friday from, say, 11:00 to 4:00, most vendors put in considerably longer hours.  You have to be willing to roll up your sleeves and get down and dirty.  You’ll wear many hats – chef, banker, carpenter, etc.  You’ve got to enjoy dealing with people, and you can’t escape health inspections just because you’re a restaurant on wheels.  But being mobile is an advantage itself; if one particular location isn’t working, you can simply move on to a new one tomorrow!  If you’re part of a pod, then your fellow food cart vendors become almost like a second family, offering encouragement, advice, and help when needed.  It’s hard work indeed, but at the end of the day, the person in charge is you, and that’s a pretty big draw in this era of downsizing.  I’ve been a part of corporate America ever since graduating from college nearly two decades ago.  Maybe it’s time I became an independent nation of one instead?

I’ve already decided on the cart.  I’ll cook, and serve, Hawaiian food.  I was born in Honolulu and pretty much grew up there, so I’m familiar with some of their more popular dishes, and adept at making them.  I figure I’ll do kalua pork, chicken long rice, a loco moco plate, macaroni/potato salad, and saimin.  I’ll have rotating specials periodically.  Oh, and hot malasadas for dessert.  I even have the perfect name: Ohana Nui, which is Hawaiian for “extended family” and also happens to be the name of the street we lived on from 1974-1977.

It’ll be a little taste of paradise in downtown Portland.  The perfect pick-me-up on a dreary winter’s day.

All I need now is ca$h!  Anybody want to invest in this little venture with me?