Tasty and my Son

Dean and I have the best new tradition ever. He chooses a new hipster Portland restaurant to take me to for my birthday, Jenny and I eat and drink, and The Captain pays. Best!

Off topic: Dean’s latest hipster jeans are straining at their job. His coach has him spending more time in the gym and it makes his jeans look like the sidewalk next to a fast-growing maple tree. We may have to take up a collection for another pair of pants.

This year it was Tasty and Sons - a restaurant wedded to a butcher shop. BEST: pork chop with spaetzle BESTER: spaghettini carbonara. BESTEST: bouillabaisse. Or maybe the other way around. Coming in a distant fourth, but still better food than I’ve had for weeks: the grilled asparagus.

BUT WAIT - THERE’S MORE. After dinner we walked up the street to Pix, a Frenchy dessert place with Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside on the turntable and a gooey chocolatey thing called the Queen of Sheba in my tummy.

The weather is perfect. The garage-door-style south wall is rolled up and there is no barrier between us and the sidewalk. Cyclists cycling by. Walkers walking. A van dragging its exhaust (ah, sad van family).

Portland is a fun city. I like hanging out there. Dean and Jenny are fun people. I like hanging out with them. Aren’t we lucky?