Bellevue Strawberry Festival

I've been MIA for a while, mostly due to this annoying cough I have acquired somewhere that makes me want to really hack out my lungs if only it were possible. Finally, I was able to pull myself out of bed this weekend and rejoin the human race again. Unfortunately, I chose one of the warmest days here in Seattle to be out and about - I saw on the news that the temperature reached 91 degrees Fahrenheit today. I guess it was a good thing then that I was at the Bellevue Strawberry Festival in the morning when the weather was still tolerable. By the time I left the festival at 1:00pm, the weather was already so toasty I was thinking of using the pavement to make, well, toast.

I hate putting people or events down, but I feel I have to be brutally honest. In my mind, calling this event a "strawberry festival" is using the term charitably, especially considering there was only one booth in the entire event that was actually selling strawberries.

This is not to say the event wasn't fun. The musicians and the performers were fantastic, bringing a bright energetic vibe to the event throughout the day. The smell from the barbecue pits and the grilling stations were incredible, to the point it made you feel they were actually doing you a favor by selling a hot dog or a slice of pizza for "only" $5.00. Due to the warm weather, the most popular booth (and probably the most profitable one) was the vendor selling Hawaiian shaved ice; I've actually had Hawaiian shaved ice in Hawaii when I lived there a long time ago and can say with authority that the ice at this event was not remotely "Hawaiian" at all, but for some reason it felt good to pay $3.00 for what was essentially crystallized water with flavored neon food coloring.

The non-food vendors were a mixed, hit-or-miss bunch. A few stalls were representing the home improvement industry like windows and wall sidings, but I blew past them since I don't own a home (yet). Some booths were selling extremely overpriced kitschy junk, the kind you could find in dollar stores that you know will be recalled in the next few months or so. The two stalls that caught my eye were the Nicaraguan pottery and the Venetian masks. The pottery pieces were elaborately decorated with birds and flowers, colored in moss greens and earth reds; the prices were not bad considering each pottery is one-of-a-kind, handmade and hand signed by the artist. The masks were sold by A Masquerade, a costume company in Bellevue, and were genuine imported Venetian masks with seals and stamps on the inside of each mask to verify authentication. Considering the labor, the artistry, the materials, and the gas and shipping charges required to bring them over from Europe, I really don't think the $100 price tag (the silver lace one below actually costs $350) that is typical for most of their Venetian masks is too much to ask for these works of art. Of course, if you are not interested in collecting the masks as art, but are merely looking for a toy for your young child, A Masquerade also sells cheap imitation masks at much more affordable prices of around $10.



In the end, I had a good time thanks to the event coodinators and the volunteers that helped put the festival together. However, if I am to change my ranking from "good" to "great" next time, I would like to see a lot more strawberry vendors, by-products, contests, and maybe even some berry-themed rides. At the very least, put up some strawberry decorations so we remember why we are there.

By the way, I didn't get any strawberries today (I'm not kidding when I say I want to see more strawberries at the festival), but I did get this lovely bag of Rainier cherries that was handpicked within less than 24 hours of the festival. And I love Starbucks for giving out the free little cups of frappachinos to help us cool off at the festival.

Trader Vics Disappointment

I have always been very adventurous when it comes to eating. Like Andrew Zimmern (of the "if it looks good, eat it" quote), I am not easily grossed out by foods that are not normally found in your average typical supermarket. I love thousand-year-eggs, I think snake is a great delicacy, and I have tried a few rocky mountain oysters one year when I was in Texas (don't remember the taste anymore, but the story is a great conversation piece at gatherings).

I bring this up because I consider myself a food traveler, slightly amateurish maybe, but still well experienced in how food should be prepared and taste. And the meal I had at Trader Vics today was an exemplary example of what not to do if you are a chef.

Okay, before we go dissecting into the inedible-mistake-on-a-plate that the restaurant had the nerve to call my entree, I will preface by saying that I do not have a problem with chain restaurants. There happens to be a few that I like to frequent (such as California Pizza Kitchen and Red Robin). It is true that most chain restaurants do have bland, dumbed-down menus, but my favorite chain restaurants won't charge you an arm and a leg for their bland, dumbed-down menus either. Not so with Trader Vics; the entree I ordered cost $26, which eventually came out to close to $40 after taxes and tip. Forty clams for a plate of uncooked fish; you can see why I left the restaurant angry.

But I am prematurely jumping to the end of the story. It all started because I received a coupon in the mail. The coupon clearly stated it expired on 6/30/08. Since I've never been to Trader Vic's before, but previously heard people say it is an island-cuisine seafood restaurant (hmmm, interesting), I thought I'd check it out.

As soon as I was seated and the waitress brought me my mai-tai, I was having my doubts about the meal. First of all, the restaurant was plastered in this garish, cliche, Polynesian-themed decor that looked like it was put together by a couple of drunk seniors for their high-school prom. An even better metaphor, I would say the restaurant looked like a hooker with bright red lipstick and a see through low-cut blouse who was afraid that everyone wouldn't be able to see her goods. Second, the restaurant announced, in big bold letters in their menus, that they were the creator of the mai-tai and strongly recommended it. After a sip, I wanted to tell the bartender that I've had better. At almost every other restaurant I've ever ordered the drink.

Still, I had the coupon. What was the worst that could happen, I thought to myself. When the waitress came over and recited the specials, I thought the mahi-mahi with mango chutney, bok choy, and jasmine rice sounded appetizing. Maybe I was judging a book too much by its cover, and the chef will somehow wow me with a tasty dish of food. In fact, when the waitress brought my plate over, I was impressed by the plating and the beautiful colors of gold and greens and translucent whites. Alas, that would be the only thing I could say positively in this review. The meal went downhill from there.

First of all, as you probably have guessed, the fish was not cooked all the way through. Now, this would have been find if I were ordering sashimi at my most trustworthy sushi house; but I'm not eating sashimi, and I have no idea at what grade of meat my lump of mahi-mahi started out, so it wasn't reassuring to find parts of my fish so raw and stringy that it couldn't even be cut with my knife. When I called the waitress over to show her my raw fish, instead of bringing the entire dish back to the chef, she told me that fish was supposed to be medium rare. I wanted to tell her that beef was supposed to be medium rare; fish is supposed to be flaky enough to be eaten with a fork sans the knife. Instead I sat in muted silence and mentally started deducting points from her tip.

Secondly, because the fish was so severely undercooked, the fish had absolutely no taste at all. This I do not know whether to blame the chef or the ignorance of the American consumer in general. It is weird to think that we ask so much for our beef to taste like beef and our hams to taste like ham. But when it comes to fish, we think that any natural taste a fish would develop in the cooking process is to be avoided like the plague. Unlike the Chinese or the Japanese who fully embrace the complex aromas of seafood (and prep and season accordingly), we Americans think that fish should be undercooked plainly in butter and taste like nothing. Same thing as our produce; Europeans have long wondered how we can stand to digest the generic mush we buy at our supermarkets that we call tomatoes. It was actually depressing for me, sitting there eating the tasteless fish, contemplating the poor palates developed by an entire population that grew up on Diet Cokes and Big Macs; if the fish were replaced by Wonder bread, I don't think anyone in the restaurant would have noticed.

Finally, the entire dish tasted just completely weird, like discords rather than chords in an orchestra. In addition to the tasteless mahi-mahi, the bok choy (which needed some savory sauce to balance its distinct taste) clashed horribly with the mango chutney (which desperately needed some hot peppers to balance its overt sweetness). The jasmine rice didn't help either, as its strong aromas completely overpowered the mahi-mahi.

Before this experience, I wouldn't have tried Trader Vics without a coupon. After this meal, I've decided that they couldn't get me into their restaurant unless they were handing out free meals, and even then I would skip any seafood and just go for a vegetarian entree.

Seattle Cheese Festival

I love Pike Market, I just sometimes wish other people didn't love it as much. Especially on days like today, when the Cheese Festival attracted a ravenously hungry mob to the market's already overburdened site. Of course, the weather had something to do with the crowd as well; nothing like a little sunshine to draw everyone out of their winter hibernation.

Unfortunately, due to half of Seattle congregating on the small little three block span in front of Pike Market, and partly due to my upbringing which stressed the importance of courtesy and manners towards strangers, I wasn't able to get anywhere near the over-200 cheese samples offered by the 50-plus vendors. In my two hours caught in the ebb and flow, I was only able to snag two pieces of cheese, a pathetic record for a food enthusiast as myself. I finally gave up and left, determined that I would come early next year before the lunch crowd launched into the festival.

Here are some photos from the official Seattle Cheese Festival website at http://www.seattlecheesefestival.com.

U District StreetFair

In a world increasingly overtaken by general suburban malls and national retail stores, it is sometimes a lovely change of pace to find a gathering such as the annual U District StreetFair and get to personally know the local artists and craftsman in the community. Although this was my very first attendance, the event has actually been around for 39 years according to the website. The StreetFair takes place on University Avenue and spans a few blocks on each side of 45th Street. The location is very easy to find, but the downside is the traffic - it is hard enough trying to get a parking space during non-peak hours (if there are any, I haven't found them so far), but to maneuver a car through the throngs of people all with the pedestrians-come-first mentality during any event such as the StreetFair is a hellish nightmare. I got the message, City of Seattle, next time I'll take a bus.

The StreetFair featured a little of everything. Music. Food. Tchotchkies. Knicknacks. Standard-to-be-expected artisans selling glass, pottery, ironworks. Hippies-in-exile-from-San-Francisco selling natural dyed wool and crocheted hats. Vendors selling jewelry, soap and greeting cards. The-weirdo-of-the-day advertising he would let you punch him in the stomach for $5.00.

I wanted to ask the weirdo if I could take a picture of him and his cardboard sign, but lost my nerve at the last moment. I'll summon the courage to ask him ext year if he sticks around, but only if he doesn't make me pay for his time. Meanwhile, here are some photos of this year's fair.

More information can be found on the University District StreetFair website at http://www.udistrictstreetfair.org.

Free McD's Southern Style Chicken

Despite the flashy television ads and the aggressive coupons that McDonald's have been mailing to everyone about their new Southern Style Chicken Sandwiches, some company marketing guru (or idiot, depending on who you ask) probably decided they weren't making enough of a news splash and thus announced that they were giving out the sandwiches to anyone who purchased a medium drink today. I'm not a fan of McDonald's (sorry Morgan Spurlock, I'm totally on Alex's side when she says you're crazy for eating McDonald's for 30 days), but I'm also not one to turn down free food. Besides, someone has to evaluate the over-processed cardboard that McDonald's calls "food" despite all evidence indicating otherwise.

The Southern Style Chicken Sandwich is just a slab of fried breaded chicken between two buns with two pickles. That's it. No lettuce. No tomatoes. No ketchup. No mustard. Nothing, nada, zilch, zip. Of course, if you are a purist, you can argue that a really great sandwich do not need condiments, and I wholly agree with you a hundred percent. But really, when has McDonald's ever built a sandwich or a burger in that league? And after one bite, I can attest that their austere Southern Style Chicken Sandwich was not conceived with goals of attaining any great food heights either. After rummaging for some romaine lettuce and vine ripened tomatoes from the fridge and stuffing it in the remaining burger, it became a slightly more edible; after ditching the bun and the chicken and sandwiching the pickles between the lettuce and tomatoes, it tasted a little better; after ditching the pickles as well....you get the idea.

The Southern Style Chicken Sandwich will retail for $2.89 on days when McDonald's is not going for broke. I've heard that the whole concept of their Southern Style Chicken products was lifted from their competitor Chick-Fil-A. Although I haven't tried Chick-Fil-A (they haven't made it to Washington State yet), I feel that Carl's Jr. has a pretty close version in their spicy chicken sandwich, which is only $0.99. And, in addition to being a third cheaper in price, Carl's Jr. will give you lettuce and mayonnaise on it as well.

To everyone who has half a brain, this whole Southern Style Chicken concept to take on Chick-Fil-A sounds eerily like another campaign by McDonald's. You know, the one where they came out with the $1.00 lattes? (By the way, did anyone feel the ad was an assault to the general population's intelligence, you know the one featuring two women in a coffee shop talking about how they don't have to listen to jazz anymore? What is wrong with jazz? In McDonald's quest in catering to the lowest common denominator, are we all being brainwashed into renouncing anything of substance and greatness, and in its place accepting that our culture only has room for Old-McDonald's-has-a-farm, pun intended, E-I-E-I-O?) I've tried McDonald's lattes, and there were too much sugar and water while skimping on the coffee. Anyway, after trying their inferior imitation Starbucks coffee, I wouldn't be surprised if their Southern Style Chicken Sandwiches were also another lame imitation Chick-Fil-A, as anyone with a food blog are, well, blogging.

In the whole scheme of things, I admit there are probably a few things worse than McDonald's Southern Style Chicken Sandwich. I just can't think of one right now.

Bellevue Botanical Garden

One lovely Saturday afternoon, I decided to take advantage of the beautiful sunshine and natural light to visit the Bellevue Botanical Garden. I managed to get some gorgeous photos, if I say so myself, of various flora (no fauna, although there is one of a metal frog), which will go well into my screensaver file.

Here are the metal frog and the tower of rocks at the entrance of the garden. I'm sure they are there for a reason, but I haven't figured out why yet.

My favorite part of the garden was the Japanese tearoom. It looked so quiet, so peaceful, so secluded amongst the trees. As I sat there and contemplated the meaning of life (or what little contemplation I could muster from my one lone philosophy class in college), I realized I had a craving for some strong green tea and pink mochi cakes. Note to self, stop at Uwajimaya on the way home.

Here are some close-up shots of various flowers and leaves. I could identify the tulips...

...and the rhododendrons...

...and pretty much everything else I just call them, "Oooh, pretty."

Nordy Private Event

I have previously been invited to Nordstrom's private shopping events in the past (the salespeople are always careful to call it a cocktail event, which I'm assuming they do so because it connotes a more upscale image in most people's mind), but this is the first time I've decided to attend the event. Watching the hoards of people entering the store, while caterers inside served champagne and finger food, I couldn't help but remember an article I read a few months ago about department stores resorting to creative measures to keep their loyal customers from fleeing to the competition at a time when inflation is running rampage and many people are more price conscious than brand conscious. Seeing the crowd of people happily shopping on the floor, you wouldn't have immediately guessed the economy was in a recession. Still, upon a closer inspection, I did notice most people were congregating at the cosmetic counters buying relatively inexpensive items like lipsticks, whereas the Gucci purse and the Prada clothes counters were empty and quiet. Although the event was festive, I couldn't get the Matchbox 20 song out of my mind - you know, the one that goes "Everyone keeps talking / They promise you everything / But they don't mean anything ... Say goodbye these days are gone / And we can't keep holding on / When all we need is some relief / Through these hard times."

Well, I figured I came, I saw, I might as well conquer as much of the food and wine as I can. My favorite was the carmelized onion and Gruyere on crostinis, followed closely by the scallops and watermelon with japanese style fish roe. The steak with tortillas were nice, although the tortillas did have a tendency to become soggy if they sat on the serving tray too long. The mushrooms in puff pastry cups were on the bland side; I really wanted to ask them if they could bring me a pair of salt and pepper shakers. Some time after my second glass of champagne, I began stalking whomever were distributing the crostinis and the scallops/watermelons. They must have been running low on everything, because after two hours, the caterers started to consistently bring out sliced smoked salmon on pumpernickel bread with dill garnish, which I really didn't care for.

At the end of the evening, little chocolate cake bites were served to the crowd, a small nudge to say the event was winding. As people marched out of the store into the parking lot, I wondered if the everything went as well as Nordstrom's hoped, if they did manage to retain the loyalty of their customers, or if store's event just mainly attracted a crowd of people like myself who were there only for the food.