Jews Hit Portland: Good Chinese Food Found

My parents have been here less than 72 hours and we have discovered a true gem: Zien Hong on Sandy and 53rd. They serve authentic dishes like eggplant with garlic sauce, General Tso's chicken, and a sizzling Chow mien or as my dad says: chal-main.

Though I found it via yelp and googling, it was my parents' demands for Chinese food that pushed me to research properly. What about a local place? Or something organic? Ridiculous!

While walking on the sidewalk we outran another senior set, but once inside the stranger, a man of about 70 claimed to be before us in line. My mom, at five two, suddenly appeared to sprout up taller. She quickly gave him the stink eye and said, "No he wasn't. We were here first." It didn't matter much that the restaurant, though crowded, had 3 or 4 empty tables.

Later, my mom shared a delightful story of how she an my dad were traveling in Dublin and of course wanted some Italian food. They asked the hotel, which recommended a terrible restaurant that served noodles with ketchup. The moral of the story: hotel chains get a cut and want to promote crappy, new restaurants. Don't trust them. In fact, while you're at it, don't trust anyone.

Call me crazy, but I find a tiny flaw in this. Why search out Italian food in Ireland? But hey, you get to reach 60, yo do whatever you want, like burp without covering your mouth. Hypothetically.

At dinner my dad salts the General Tso's Chicken, points out a customer who he finds aesthetically unpleasant and we enjoy our food. I decide, with the carpet and taped on wallpaper, that maybe this is where I should take my future dates. With the lack of ambiance, all you have is food and conversation - it's sink or swim.

Anyway, we enjoyed the meal and the refrigerator is overflowing now with crazy leftovers, as are the counters. There is fruit everywhere, as if something has exploded.

And something has: my patience.

xxx

The day before we went to Dundee to try some wines at the Soter vineyard in Carlton. Though we enjoyed the view and the adirondack chairs, they poured several white wines and it does not meet my dad's hopes. The neighbor who recommended it will not be trusted again and when said neighbor later tells us about Clark and Lewis my parents don't want to hear a thing about it. "What does he know?" my dad says. Mom chimes in, "Yeah. He recommended that German place."

Over lunch at Farm to Fork my dad mentions how dark it is. I explain that it's all windows and there's no sun out today. "So," he says, "couldn't it be sunnier?"

My dad scoops up a bunch of coleslaw and adds it to my mom's plate. "Here. Take."
Mom says, "What am I? A Garbage Pail?"
Dad, "You used to be."

xxx

At Laurelhurst Theatre to see The Ghost Writer. The admission is $3.
Dad, "No senior discount?"

xxx

Tomorrow night we hit Vancouver, British Columbia, then Victoria. We will be sharing one hotel room. Wish me luck.