My Romantic Year: Midtown Marketplace

For one brilliant year, nearly my entire job was to sit in coffee shops and write. Every day, I'd wake up, pack my little computer into my gigantic bag, and trek down from my house to find a place to settle for the day. Over and over, that place wound up being Midtown Marketplace.

Now, I'm not a regular anywhere. I don't know until I wake up what food or drink will sound good during the day, and even when I'm standing at a familiar coffee counter, there's not much chance you'll know what I'll order. Still, three or four times a week for nearly a year, I showed up at Midtown -- sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon -- to get a large mug of black coffee, no room, and a pastry.

Why this place? Why that coffee? Only the heart and the tastebuds can really answer, but my fingers will give it a try. They brew a rich, hot, dark coffee has just the faintest taste of dark, bitter chocolate. Their pastries are locally made, sometimes in house, I believe, and the buttery croissant shell around the hard bar of chocolate in the pain au chocolat was enough, most days, to sustain me through a morning of writing.

If I was hungrier, I sometimes turned to the cousin of the coffee counter, the Bistro. They have omelettes and waffles, eggs Benedict or Pierre, fruit and granola, and a few other standbys. The prices are a little high for a no-service restaurant, but that's because the ingredients aren't your typical coffee-shop fare. The Chevre omelette I liked best came with roasted red peppers, spinach, that cheese, toast, potatoes, and an $8 price tag. A burger and fries at lunch will run you $9, but the meat and lettuce are local. When it's done, you'll hear your name bellowed across the whole hall in a voice that's trained by years of service to carry.

It's a big place, after all. Midtown Marketplace is one long, open building. The front has street-facing windows onto Willamette and a bundle of benches lining the walls with seating for thirty more at tables in between. The coffee shop squats in the middle of the building, and traffic can flow around it on either side back to three separate seating areas: a U-shaped area of padded benches and tables around an indoor fireplace; a more open area across from it with more tables (and a valuable outlet for laptops); and the back bar, which has high tables and the highest concentration of outlets in the place.

Midtown used to be the home of three separate entities: the Coffeeshop, the Bistro, and, in the back, the Bel Ami lounge, which opened at night and served drinks and dinner. Sometime in the last few years, Bel Ami died, and there was a brief, glorious interlude where one could arrive for coffee at 2 and transition to martinis at 4 (er, of course, I mean five, because, ha ha, who'd drink alone before 5?), all from the same fireside chair. Think about it! Pastries, free wifi, and a damn good Manhattan, all in the same place? Throw in a bowl of fries -- and oh, they did -- for $4, and you can see why I nearly settled down.

Those days are somewhat over. Coffee and bistro both close at 3, and staying in your seat beyond that feels much like trespassing. There's a new wine bar/store that's opened in the long northern side of the building. It sells wine by the bottle and has tastings, though not on a particularly set schedule and not in conjunction with the rest of the building's services.

Our affair was brief, but sweet. We've both moved on, though not, in my case, terribly willingly. Yet I remember Midtown fondly, and I hope someday soon -- perhaps this Saturday -- we'll meet again.

Hours: Coffee and Bistro: 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. daily; The Winehouse: Monday-Saturday 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., except Fridays: 10 a.m. to 9 p.m.

Location: 1591 Willamette Street

A Vegetable Love Story: Ratatouille

Once upon a time, there was a blogging girl and a guy who was afraid of Facebook who used to get together for coffee/drinks/French fries nearly every afternoon at Midtown. There they sampled Manhattans and Old Fashioneds and talked about their various writings and readings and friends and what-have-you. Sometimes, they left Midtown and went in search of dinner together, but not together, because they were just friends.

Of course this story has a twist into more than friends territory, and though it's hard to mark an exact beginning for that twist, one of the major bumps along the way involved a dinner invitation. Just across the street from Midtown, there's a tiny little bistro-looking place called Ratatouille. Now, our hero (ahem) happens to be a vegetarian, and so she'd heard that Ratatouille was extremely friendly to folks like her. The guy -- should we just go ahead and call him C? -- was a fairly enthusiastic meat eater, someone who had, on a recent outing, eaten three McDonald's cheeseburgers without breaking the slightest what's-in-this sweat.

So it came as something of a surprise when he suggested we dine there.

It was a lovely meal. I had a pasta in a cashew cream sauce that wasn't that far removed from the cheesy cream sauces that you'd find nearly anywhere, save that no butter or real cream had touched the whole wheat noodles. C had the blue cornmeal empanadas, which came with artful pools of chocolate mole and crema. We were the only people in the restaurant that night, and our service came at the hands of someone we suspected was the owner, who talked us into a shared piece of vegan German Chocolate Cake.

Once you've found a cheeseburger-lover who's completely content to share vegan cake with you, well -- vegetarian girls, you know what I'm talking about.

So, anniversaries. It's now been just over a year since C and I upgraded from "all the time hanging out" to this dating thing, and that required a celebration last weekend. We went back to Ratatouille and found only one significant change: there were several parties of diners enjoying the place, which made for a warm, bubbling atmosphere of conversation and celebration along with allowing for much more admiration of other people's food.

We started with an appetizer of an heirloom tomato, cut horizontally and layered with fresh basil leaves that had been lightly tossed with a gentle greenish curry dressing (which also dotted the plate).

^{Eggplant Parm}

For the main dishes, we both went with eggplant: I had the eggplant parmesan, which comes on a bed of polenta made with a very, very few mushrooms and green beans. The eggplant was perfectly cooked, soft but not falling apart, lightly breaded, coated with orange cheese, and topped with an acidic, salty tomato sauce that would have been too intense were it not for the cooling, creamy polenta underneath.

^{C's Eggplant dinner}

C had an eggplant dish that involved slightly custardy eggplant slices with layers of smoked onion ratatouille between them. Of the two dishes, I thought his won; he said he'd order mine next time.

There was no room for dessert or even for the fresh hibiscus tea that one hostess suggested, nor for the extremely tasty-looking pot pies that kept drifting by. I struggled with the choice between the eggplant, the zucchini lasagna (which can be made vegan), or the house pasta special of whole wheat noodles with sauteed squash and that same, tasty cashew cream sauce and toasted hazelnuts.

This is one of the few places in Eugene where it feels appropriate, maybe even necessary, to dress up (though strangely our waitress wore shorts). Maybe the prices -- ranging from $15 to $20 a plate for an entree; $7-$9 an appetizer -- are part of what makes Ratatouille feel fancy, but some of it is also a cultivated, quiet, artful atmosphere that the chef himself creates through careful displays of food in portions that encourage you to savor each bite.

Highly recommended.

Location: 1530 Willamette St.

Hours: Lunch: Monday through Friday 11-2 p.m.; Dinner: Tuesday through Saturday, 5 to 9 p.m.

We Go Wrong at La Bufa Taqueria

I hate giving bad reviews. I hate even being lackluster, but that's part of this food review thing. I promised to try new things for you all, and when they don't work out, I should tell you.

So, on a recent trip through downtown Eugene, I noted a restaurant I had never really made much mind to before. It was La Bufa Taqueria, and they boasted of their "tacos al vapor." They were also closed, so I made note to go back and try them for lunch as soon as was convenient. As it happened, that was pretty much the very next day. What can I say? I really love Mexican food.

So G. opted for two of the pork tacos al vapor, and what came out appeared to be two pretty standard pork soft tacos. In fact, that's true. Neither of us could determine anything that might have made these tacos "steamed" in any way. They were passably good, if sort of dull and dry, tacos.

I was hungry for avocado, so I picked something--the Mini-Tosti--that would get me some of the yummy green stuff. The lady behind the counter was nice enough to steer me toward the "mini" or otherwise this thing would have been WAY too large. I could barely finish the half-sized "mini," so the full-sized one might have killed me. The dish was basically nachos: chips, beans, lettuce, tomatoes, chunks of avocado, dried oregano, and (here's where it went REALLY wrong for me) a liberal dusting of that Kraft "parmesan" cheese that comes in a can. WHY?! It ruined what was otherwise a really tasty and affordable ($3.00!) lunch. I don't think this junk should even land on homemade spaghetti, let alone Mexican food. So disappointing, especially on a menu that includes queso fresca.

I suspect perhaps we ordered wrong, so I am thinking we'll try again some day, but I do have one price quibble that has nothing to do with the quality of the food: $1.75 for a can of soda, in the absence of a soda fountain, is just EVIL.

Old Place, New Taste: The Granary

Remember Jo Fed's? If you've been in Eugene for only a few years (like me), you'll remember it as a "hey, is that place open?" joint downtown that's been up and down, closed, under new management, and then closed again. In its old site, there's now a new contender: The Granary Pizza Co., which serves pizzas and pastas on both the upper and lower level, and still features local and touring bands.

The Granary has four parts: The wine bar, which is upstairs at the front and has first-come, first-serve seating at the bar or at any of a half-dozen very small tables overlooking 5th street; the restaurant, which takes up the back, upper level; and the bar areas that are open to the stage, both on the upper level (with the same bench-seating and small, set-back u-shaped booths in their own little no-door rooms) and on the lower level, which is slightly more nightclubbish and even with the stage and the downstairs bar. The full menu is served on all levels, though a late-night menu goes into effect at 9.

We ate in the wine bar, which also includes a few tables on the street. Happy hour runs from 5 to 7 p.m. every day, including (holy of holies) Sunday, and it's generous: $2.50 for fantastic, tempura-like onion rings or eggplant strips, slightly more for hot wings or a house salad; $1 PBRs or $2.50 drafts (Ninkasi IPA); $5 martinis. I had a $4 house wine (Willamette Valley Riesling, not bad) that wasn't much of a bargain because of a short pour, but the beer is a good value. Their pizza is also available by the slice during happy hour: spicy pepperoni, margherita, or plain cheese at $3 a slice or $5 with a beer. We didn't end up trying the pizza, but -- with a set menu of pies or a list of choose-your-own toppings -- I can imagine we soon will. It looks fantastic.

C and I went with pasta to share, and that was a good choice: I tried the macaroni(actually: orecchiette) and cheese, with broccoli (you could also add chicken). It came with a thick, salty (in a good way) sauce of Tillamook cheddar and parmesan, and a small but pleasant salad with balsamic-and-oil dressing. C ordered the pesto cream penne, and that was a lovely find: the basil pesto was clearly fresh, with an almost lemony bite, and included a generous pile of un-crushed pine nuts and soft, bitable sundried tomatoes, with enough cream added just to hold the green stuff together and coat the penne. Delicious. I was afraid I wouldn't get my half.

These seem to explain the essence of The Granary's menu: standard dishes done well, for a reasonable amount of money, with great service. With happy hour drinks and an appetizer, two full pasta dishes (we had leftovers), and a tiramisu for dessert, the meal came in right at $35. You could easily drink and dine here for less than $10 a person and come away full and happy, which -- for Fifth Street -- is an accomplishment that shouldn't be ignored.

By eight, the downstairs was starting to fill with fans of the night's entertainer -- a guitarist -- while the upstairs remained almost eerily quiet and uncrowded. I'd like to see this place succeed and survive -- and I'll do my part to help it out by showing up for Wednesday night's all-you-can-eat pasta night, with my best Carbohydrate Champion in tow to try out the marinara, Bolognese, and white clam sauces.

I'll report back as soon as I recover.

Location: 259 E. 5th Ave

Hours: Wednesday through Sunday, 5 p.m. to 11 p.m. for food -- later for drinks downstairs

Viva La Cart Culture: Viva! Vegetarian Grill

There's a reason Viva! Vegetarian Grill place has a 100% approval rate on Urbanspoon. If you go, you go because you know what you're getting into: cart vegetarian food. Now, if you're reasonable, you know this could go very wrong, and so when it doesn't -- when they hand you over your steaming fake philly cheesesteak after only a few moments -- you feel relief. I haven't been taken for a ride, you think, even before you take your first bite.

And that first bite, well, that's what usually separates the day traders from the pros, the part-time vegetarians from the faithful. Part-time vegetarians get excited over things that taste like vegetables, over weird combinations, things that make being a vegetarian "special" and "fun." Long-term vegetarians, in my experience, form two lines: the vegan line and the line that, on occasion, wants something reminiscent of their meat-eating days without the attendant meat.

Viva satisfies the second group. The first group might be happy there, too, though only if they bring their own salad.

Here, we have the aforementioned Fake Philly, which is, incidentally, vegan, complete with a cashew "cheese" sauce. Does that sound troubling? If so, don't go. If you read "cashew 'cheese' sauce" and think, why would you do that?, well, you haven't had cashew "cheese" sauce. You have to understand the subculture of "food in quotes." I live here. I eat "burgers" all the time. And I loved my "Philly" with cashew "cheese" sauce. So did C, who still -- from time to time -- ventures into real Philly land. The sandwich was large and satisfying, hot, salty, and with enough fake meat and real veggies to make it a thing of lunch glory: a one-stop.

But since we were sampling, this wasn't the only thing I tried. I also picked up a little basket of the tempeh satay, which came with a phenomenal (and simple) peanut dip. When the two sticks of (normal, blandish) tempeh were gone, C and I both eyed the little paper cup with the peanut dip inside, pretty much ready to fight for the right to lick out the insides. I can't remember who won (me).

C also tried the Tempeh Reuben. This has been a mistake at every place he's ever tried it, and I think Viva! was the cart that finally convinced him to take the Veg Reuben on its own terms, to not compare it to meaty adventures past. Seen in that light, it was something he liked, though I'm not sure it's an adventure he'd try again. Still, the sauce here was good again, and it inspired confidence in the cooks. C was also delighted by the condiment bar, where one could load up on several typical dressings in addition to sauerkraut, vegan cheese, raw onions, and something called "Charlie's Numb Sauce" that called out to me -- to avoid it.

On our next trip -- and you bet there will be one -- C's got his eye on the Fake Philly. Me? I'm thinking summer is probably a great time to try Viva's Polish Soysage, since I liked the caramelized onions so much on the first trip.

Viva! Vegetarian is installed in a parking lot on Willamette street, so this is pretty much dedicated to-go food. (There are a few -- maybe three? -- chairs provided in a covered area, but at lunch time, I bet that space is really scarce). You can also call or text ahead orders to 541/595-VIVA, which seems like a good bet if you're in a hurry.

Location: Willamette and 12th, east side parking lot
Hours: 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., weekdays only
Discounts: $.50 off if: a) you ride your bike there; b) you show a student ID; or c) it's raining.

Have the Soup at the Bier Stein. Twice.

So, in deference to trying new things for the blog, as well as G's near constant hunger for good burgers/sandwiches/pub food, we went this week to The Bier Stein here in Eugene. I had been wary of this place, since it reminded me strongly of a fratty bar in my hometown where the food was definitely just ordered to prevent you from puking your guts out on the wide variety of beers they served. You came for the beer, and if you needed to eat, they could help you with that, but few if any went to this other bar for the beer. The Bier Stein and I had to get over this one tiny flaw in our relationship:

I am not a beer drinker. The coolers full of beers were novel, fun to look at, but I was here for the food, and the Bier Stein would have to rise or fall in the review on that basis alone.

But, as it turns out, you don't have to be to find reasons to go to the Bier Stein. This week was cold in Eugene. Windy, rainy, and COLD. It was good soup weather, but I was so busy with work and school that we kept missing our window to go have the delicious ramen at Toshi's, which closes at 3 and reopens at 5.

So, having read around a little at Urban Spoon, I suggested we try the Bier Stein, which features one of my very favorite soups every day of the week. So the Cheese Beer soup was a real draw, and G was amenable, so we went this week.

The First Visit

I ordered a bowl of the cheese beer soup for us to share, and we each ordered a sandwich. I got The Dip, a modified French dip sandwich with caramelized onions and horseradish mayo, grilled panini-style on ciabatta bread. (Minor, grammar snob quibble: a sandwich like this is served au jus, not WITH au jus, which makes no sense.) For my side, I selected the pasta salad, which had looked AMAZING when it came by on someone else's plate. G went with the German sausage sandwich and a side salad.

The soup: Completely amazing, especially on a cold day. Generous portion when you order the bowl, enough that I hardly wanted to knife G for his half.

The Dip: Good. I can't really say that the roast beef was top shelf, but the gooey mess of cheese, onions, and horseradish mayo really overwhelmed any qualms I had about the roast beef.

The Pasta Salad: Bad. Really stunningly disappointingly bad. It was cavatappi pasta with chunks of veggies (Squash, chickpeas, red pepper, zucchini) mixed with pesto. All the elements of good, and yet it tasted like nothing at all. I don't know how that happened, but neither G nor I thought this was at all worthwhile.

German Sausage Sandwich--Sausage itself, mediocre, but actually split and grilled, and served with a delicious mustard that G was raving about.

The Salad: We were both impressed with the blackberry vinaigrette, which was fruity and acidic, over pretty fresh spring greens. A far cry better than the pasta salad.

We liked it well enough that we went twice this week, since yesterday was REALLY cold, and it was 3:05 before we realized how good soup sounded.

The Second Visit

The Soup: Still excellent. Still worth every penny. Wondering if I could eat a whole bowl of it with a side salad as my meal, except that I would miss out on these amazing sandwiches.

The Turkey Club: Not called this on the menu, but you get the idea. Similar to the dip, in that it was a melty, gooey mess of goodness, but this time, I was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the turkey. A good sandwich, but for one thing: it would really be improved by the addition of some tomatoes. I was smart this time and had the side salad. Much better.

Final Verdict: Have the soup. Have one of the panini-style sandwiches. Avoid the pasta salad.

Location: 345 E. 11th St, Eugene

Hours: 11:00 AM to 12:00 AM, every day.

Follow the dairy-free road: Holy Donuts

I was skeptical of Holy Donuts.

I'd seen their donuts at places like the Friendly Street Café, where they looked small, scrawny, and dry next to their fluffier, non-vegan cousins. The day that I ended up at Holy Donuts, my original goal had been VooDoo Doughnuts downtown -- but that place is, so far, only inconsistently open.

So it was that on a gorgeous Saturday night, C and I walked past the Eugene Mail Stop, down something called "the holy trail," and finally saw, for the first time, the adorable little shop and courtyard of Holy Donuts. It really is a cute little building, painted green, with a wide window showing off the donut case inside and fairy lights strung through the tree branches. A few sturdy outdoor tables and a less sturdy swinging sofa dot the grassy courtyard and its constructed, flower-lined path. This place, I'd already decided, was much cuter than I'd expected (as I'd been expecting no open space behind the mail place, just a crowded, converted back room).

Then, inside, we saw something to further change hearts and minds: a vegan donut with bacon on top.

The Pizza Is the Star: Mezza Luna Pizzeria

Mezza Luna Pizzeria was one of the first restaurants I ate at in Eugene, for one simple reason: they offer a fantastic lunch special. For a then-starving student, the prospect of huge, affordable slices of pizza and free refills on soda was too much to pass up. I think I read most of Chekhov at their downtown bar.

The slices-of-the-day run from $2.75 (cheese) to about $4 (meat/specialty), and you can add a plain or Caesar salad for $3 at lunchtime. Since the slices are the size of my head, one does it for me, though I did occasionally venture into salad land -- where the candied pecan, gorgonzola, and cranberry combo became an instant favorite.

Still, the pizza is the star, here. It's made in enormous, flat pies that have just the right amount of sauce (whether tomato, pesto, vegan, or olive-oil-and-garlic) to keep things moist and together, but not so much that the crust gets soggy. The tomato sauce is mild but still -- miracle of miracles -- actually tastes like tomatoes. If you build your own pizza, things can get expensive, and tasty, very quickly, as they offer a respectable list of not-quite-the-usual ingredients (three kinds of mozzarella cheese, for instance; roasted eggplant and roasted rosemary potatoes; chicken sausage). Each addition costs $2.25 on top of a large ($17 base).

You don't have to spend a fortune here, though you easily could. Their lunch special slices aren't just the typical cheese and pepperoni (though these are often included). The last time we visited, they had those two standards plus a pizza with roasted red and yellow bell peppers and pineapple; one with an olive oil base, feta cheese, and sliced kalamata olives; and an Italian sausage number. I had the pepper pizza, and it was divine -- pepper chunks large enough to require more than one bite to finish them, pineapple oven-seared into sweetness, and cheese and tomato blithely tying it all together.

That's a pizza. Now, if only they delivered.

Mezza Luna now has two locations: downtown (on Pearl) and way up North (in Crescent Village). Both locations offer indoor seating at tables and a small bar; the Crescent Village location also has about three outdoor tables, in good weather. Both also offer wine and beer in addition to soft drinks and juices. Both offer excellent people watching, as well, though the crowd to be viewed will be very different depending on the locale.

Location: Downtown: 933 Pearl Street

Crescent Village: 2776 Shadow View Dr.

Hours: Downtown: Monday - Saturday: 11 a.m. - 10 p.m.; Sunday: Noon - 9 p.m.

Crescent Village: Monday - Thursday: 11 a.m. - 9 p.m.; Friday and Saturday: 11 a.m. - 10 p.m.; Sunday: Noon - 9 p.m.