Chloë "woot woot" W.'s Profile

(as penned by Yelp accountless boyfriend)

I was lazy and didn't want to drive to hoovers. We went here. The service was quick and our waiter was really trying. But the food was super mediocre. Would have had better fried chicken at church's for 1/3 the price. Maybe it's time to throw on the towel, Green Mesquite. I like that you're a relic of old Austin, and the fried okra was edible, but my smoked chicken breast looked like a quail in size, and had been in the smoker about 5 hours too long. My girlfriend picked at her food and we both left with stomach aches. Won't be returning anytime soon.

My only complaint about Pho PDX is that is isn't open on weekend mornings, when I need my hang-over pho phix.  

Anyway, on the business: after a grueling week of final exams, I had a serious pho craving.  There is photo of a shrimp-in-a-pho living on my refrigerator and it had been haunting me for weeks.  Primarily out of curiosity, I knew I had to try "whatever that is", and so I sought out the elusive Pho PDX.  

Let me be frank--the space is weird.  I, however, am never dissuaded by the strangeness of an eating space (more often than not, I am encouraged by it.  It must be good to survive in such a space, yes?).  Impressively, the line to order was a bit long, but once we had ordered the wait for our food was not.  

I gave into the siren song of the "Pho Tom Yum", not without some trepidation, I admit, but I succumbed nevertheless.  My beau chose the traditional beef pho with round steak and brisket.  Our choices were rather different to be sure, but we were both blown away.  The boyfriend never wants to return to our old pho haunt, and frankly, neither do I.  Both our soups had delicious and complex broths.  The additives to the soups were amazing fresh for March-time produce.  

Frankly, it was just really, really, really good soup.  

**In the spirit of full disclosure, my roommate works here. I like my roommate, but not enough to lie to the internet about the quality of this pho**

When I am traveling, I have a very established hunger coping strategy--find sandwiches.  Sandwiches are delicious, portable, simple, and yes, pretty difficult to f up. On a recent Southern Oregon-bound weekend getaway, my beau and I stopped off in Eugene, hoping that as it is a relatively large city, that we would be able to find some delicious, non-chain lunch eatables.  You know, sandwiches.
I used the iPhone Yelp application to find the 'Wich House.  The number of stars was encouraging, and the location was, well, find-able (neither myself, nor my man, have ever been to Eugene; we were lost).

When we arrived, the two people working behind the counter allowed us to both pick sandwiches, and wait in a relatively long line before having the opportunity to order those sandwiches, before informing us that they were out of most of the ingredients.  They were very enthusiastic about their homemade bread and in-house prepared foods, so we decided to order off the minimal remaining menu (assuming it would be delicious).

We...eventually... received our sandwiches (Turkey Dinner for me; Braised Pork for him) and beat it out of Eugene.

If I were not quite the refined lady that I, indeed am, I would have spit out my first bite of sandwich.  I did scream, though, and stuffed the offending "it" immediately bad into the bag.  My beau, curious as to the quality of his sandwich, took a bite, made a face and shoved it back into the bag as well.

At this point, we were on the outskirts of Eugene; we had no intention of getting lost again in the city while looking for another lunch option.  I resigned myself to eating only the partially palatable pork from his sandwich (disregarding the inedible bread and the bizarrely prepared greens), while we gave in and found a Carl's Jr. for my love to get a lunch*.

True, I have extolled the virtue of many a great sandwich in my time as a Yelper.  I may have used the phrase "best" indeterminately in the past.  Make no mistake, when I say that these were the worst sandwiches I have ever had the misfortune of encountering, that I do mean it.  Worst sandwiches ever.  

*Let me inform you Yelpers out there, that neither my partner and I had ever eaten at a Carl's Junior.  We do not eat fast food.  The choice to go here was a painful last resort, which we are both still disappointed in having to engage it.

For a good time call:

Wait. Strike that.

For an non-excruciatingly painful Mac repair experience call: These Guys (and Girls)!

Usually, when it comes time to service one of my many Macintosh gadgets, I find myself thrown into fits of near hysterics.  "Oh my god. I have to go to the Apple store... Does anyone have any Valium?  I think I might pass out. [curse. swear. curse.]"  
Don't get me wrong, I am a devoted Apple groupie, but damn if those Apple stores aren't just the worst place in the world.  I mean, really.  They're bright, they're loud, you have to wait an f-ing month and a half while in the store, just to get your piece checked out.  
So when my laptop began to loose its grip on reality (er, function), I heaved a deep sigh of distress and began the week-long process of mental preparation for the Apple Store Hell.  
... that is, until I remembered seeing The Mac Store on my new bus route.  I figured, shoot, it can't be any worse than Apple Store Hell, right?  So I made an appointment for the next day.  

To summarize that experience, let me say:
I will never ever go back to an Apple Store [Hell] for service (or anything really) ever again. The staff (shout out to David) was ridiculously courteous and friendly.  I actually left the shop smiling--yes, SMILING--after sitting with one of the Tech Dudes for an hour+.

Normally I wouldn't write a disparaging review about a hair salon for giving me a bad haircut, I would just make them fix it.

What happened to my head today cannot be fixed.  

I asked for a couple (as in 3") of inches off my very long hair, and I got a chin length monstrosity.  The shorter layers (which I said I did *not* want) do not even touch the top of my neck.  

I cried all the way from the salon in SW to my house in NE... on the bus.  Then I cried in the shower.  Then I cried for another half an hour.  Then I had no more tears... but that doesn't mean you will catch me out in public without a hat anytime soon.

I am only giving Bishops two stars because the stylist didn't ruin my bangs.  Which only happened because, once he got to the front of my face, I was so near to tears that I told him not to touch my hair.  

Also, they didn't offer me a beer.

LET ME BREAK IT DOWN FOR YOU.

The organic, free-range, blahblahblah eggs that I buy at New Seasons cost 50 cents more here.  

[the EXACT SAME] single bagels cost almost half again as much as they do at New Seasons ($1.39 each, rather than 99 cents)

...and if I am buying a beer (and nothing else) at 5:45pm on a weekday, it's probably because I have had a nightmare of a day... does the checkout guy really--REALLY--need to give me a condescending look? Like, omg, I know beer makes me fat.  Like, omg, I know I shouldn't be buying *just* a beer.  Like, omg, how can you be so judgmental about a person's purchases*?

The layout of this store is nothing but heinous.  

The staff is *not* friendly (not that Whole Foods is known for its friendliness, but still, I am dropping $50 on a bag of groceries, you could at least smile--or at least, not sneer--at me).  Not to mention that no one, NO ONE, is EVER working in the sections where I would like to talk to someone (wine, cheese)  

It is probably relatively well known that I am not the biggest fan of Whole Foods, so okay, I admit my [admittedly negative] bias.  Yet, I completely want to like this location because there is a Planned Parenthood on top of it, and it is in walkable distance from my haus.

But seriously, after having come here four times, I have decided that I would rather drive to 33rd and Killingsworth (and sweet, sweet New Seasons) from my Irvington house, just to not be molested by Whole Foods horrible/evil/corporate/expensiveness.

*for the record, local, microbrew--it's not like I was buying budweiser (ew)

Apparently I was misinformed, because I genuinely believed that bánh mi  (in this case, bánh mi thit or #1) was NOT just a mediocre ham (just ham, not ham and bacon either) sandwich with way, WAY too much mayonnaise and one spring of cilantro.  

Because that is totally what I got here.  

PS: Wikipedia sez include (some... ANY) veggies, y'all.  "The bánh mì sandwich stems from the French countryside "salad sandwich" which consists of lettuces, tomatoes and sometimes vegetables as well as dressing served on a baguette."

Yes, Olivia is all famous now, and such.  But really, who cares about press when you've had to listen to your Austin-residing mother talk about Olivia since it opened.  Well, maybe "talk" is not the appropriate word, maybe "rave" is more applicable.  

We came to Olivia to celebrate my Mommy's birthday.  Her boyfriend is a vegetarian (and I am only recently converted to the meat-eating), so we decided to go allllllll out and get every meaty, tasty, Momma boyfriend un-friendly thing on the menu.  

Including:
beef carpaccio (not the best I've ever had, but still, tasty),
escargot with garlic, herbs & butter, bacon, crimini mushrooms, butternut squash puree (oh my god.  I die.  I die. I diiiiiiie.)  
and milk-braised sweetbreads crisp brioche & corn "streusel", toasted pecan cream (SWEETBREADS--self explanatoryly amazing)

Okay, I should admit, the woman know what's she talking about.  Not only is my Momma, she is a pastry chef.

(Olivia, the only reason you didn't get the full five stars--you food was SO deserving of them--is that our waiter, though as well-meaning as I am sure he was, was seriously trying to hassle us out the entire meal. I swear he almost died when we ordered desert, and dropped the check about two seconds into it)

If Toro Bravo was a person, I would marry it.

You know, maybe because it's the some best food I've ever eaten.  Maybe because the service (seated at the bar) was definitely some of the best I've had in Portland.  Maybe because they not only had squid ink pasta, but they did it. so. right. that I could have died (and almost did).  

I would, however, definitely marry Toro Bravo because they have a wall cum chalkboard list of the farms and artisan producers that supply their ingredients.  This is the most impressive thing I have ever seen in a restaurant--that I couldn't put in my mouth, anyway.  

However, if/when Toro Bravo and I decide to tie the knot of foodlovingbeautifulness, I will have to have an affair with someone else, in order to get some sangria that doesn't taste like super sweet fruit juice--but it doesn't mean I love it any less, it just means that this girl has needs.

I should probably begin by saying that, to the best of my ability, I am not going to fault Bunk for the epic amount of hype surrounding their sandwiches*.  

"Remember.  This is going to be a _sandwich_.  A saaaandwich" is what I told myself while waiting in line during my first Bunk excursion.  Sandwiches.  Not Chef Naomi Pomeroy's foie- gras bon-bon**.  Don't get your hopes up.  

Having said that (and considered that), it was a good sandwich.  It was not, OMGWTFBBQLOL teh best sammich EVER.   We opted for two sandwiches (the pork belly cubano and the pulled pork sandwich--the two that we had seen most prominently raved about).  

The bread was tasty, particularly on the cubano (says me--though ma beau preferred the bread on the pulled pork).   The pulled pork sandwich had a fantastically tangy apple and cabbage slaw on top of the moderate-sized portion of meat.  The cubano was meh.  Neither portion size resembled the promotional photo above.  

Sure, I will eat more Bunk sandwiches.  They are good sandwiches (and I am dying to try their cured meats sandwich).  But will I pee my pants with anticipation at eating one (err, again?)?  No sir, I will not.  

* but inevitably, I will, because everyone seems to talk about these sandwiches like they're dipped in gold and smattered with a helping of angel kisses or something.
**the best thing I have ever put it my mouth, ever...  totally lives up and surpasses any hype surrounding it.