On Thursday night, all of my reserves for tossy-turny anticipations have been tethered in to more immediate events; tomorrow I will have a real weekend. I will be reminded of what leisure tastes like. And for the first time in my 6 weeks of indulgent-free living, I will be reminded of what cider tastes like. Time for the Portland Cider Summit!
On Friday morning, car loaded, I am off with Mary and Justin to the far-off Planet Portland (I think Buzz Lightyear and Woody and Pizza when I say this). I sound like a stereotype. I am giving into the hype. No matter what way I cut it, I always fall under the Portlandia effect. I act like the city is friggin' wonderland. I don't care.
I tend to look at the first few hours of any trip as an indicator of what sort of energy we will be dealing with, usually relating a lot to how plans flow. About 40 minutes down Hwy12, Justin realizes his wallet and ID are at home, locked securely in Mary's car. After an abrupt pull over which solidifies me in horrible standing with truck drivers everywhere, we sort out a solution. An amazing friend of theirs agrees to pick Justin up, drive him back and drive him the full length of 12 back to meet us at I-5. I have an appointment in Centralia so the timing should be fine.
It is perfect. We arrive at our meeting spot practically simultaneously. We will be staying with my friend Tony for the weekend so that is our first stop and arrive there just as he is coming down the street from work. Impromptou timing adjustments that pan out for the best: I'll take that vibe for the weekend.
Eager not to let city parking complications be the bane of our good cheer, we head down early to find some good eats. Parking is surprisingly reasonable - an $8 lot for the day - and not too far from either the event venue or the Sushi we've all found ourselves craving.
Perhaps becoming one of my favorite cuisines in the past couple of years, I don't go for sushi often enough. It makes it a treat though, and the atmosphere is such fun for a communal dining experience. By now, I am fully ready to abandon my stringent restrictions and savor a meal without thinking about its micro-components. And I am ready to try some new things. I order my veggie go-to avocado roll but I can feel adventure coming on.While we wait for our food, Tony and I get my first Sake to share. After trying the traditional hot Sake that Justin orders, I realize it may not be an "authentic" Sake experience but I'll take my luscious dessert in a glass over a burning throat. The food comes and I warm myself up with familiarity before extending my chopsticks to the Ginger Salmon amazing video is totally relevant to my post now, right?sushi on the table. The roll contains both cooked and raw and I brace myself for the slippery-looking flesh. And then I unclench as it goes down my throat, tastes buds aborting the rebellion. It takes a bit more nudging to get a piece of Tony's roll into my mouth; I hear eel and think of the scheming Little Mermaid villains. Again though, my taste buds surprise me. "I feel like Simba" I weigh in. "Slimy...yet satisfying." (Score three for Disney references so far? So that means that sneaking in this
Now its time for what we came here for. Sweet, garden-o-eden nectar. On our way over, we walk through a small park built up from an old railway and boat parts where we get sidetracked by a heartwarming display of waterfowl affection. The park is the first in the city to have a self-contained rain-water treatment system. It seems important to drop knowledge bombs like this in Planet Portland.
At the gate, it is pointed out to me that I was to responsible in buying my tickets in a timely manor; I hold in my possession a Berkley Summit ticket for the corresponding event back in April. It is explained to me I will have to purchase a full new ticket, as they cannot verify whether I did or did not attend Berkley. I fail to see how they could fail to see the truthiness in my wallow-y, disappointed face.
Shake it off. Its cider time.
The vendor tents are lined up along the whole outer edge of the small, circular park. Tony and I head to our left staring at the eight little green tickets in our tasting glasses; a coveted currency to spend wisely. Taking a glimpse on our way in, I had recognized many of the labels and found myself thinking I'm a Cider-consuming pro! I've tried so many! But as we approach our first booth, I have a sudden realization of where I am. I am at a Cider Summit. I feel a bit silly realizing this, but seriously. My approach thus far has fallen under the casual layman umbrella but I am now putting "summit" into various contexts in my mind and realizing this can connote a far more involved art form/expertise/dedication. After watching the documentary Somm a while back, I know my vocabulary for cider characteristics must pale in comparison to the enthusiasts here. I express my sudden revelation to Tony who chuckles and joyously states he's just ready to drink some cider. We are a apple-y reflection of a Sideways duo.
Where better to begin but where we are. Swift Cider hales from Portland inspired by the migration of a regional feathery species of the same name, their annual presence coinciding with the start of apple season. Naturally inclined toward the "exotic" flavors, I opt for their Boysenberry. Described as a semi-dry, it meets expectations and satisfies a pallet that has been shifting its preference from sweet to dry lately. Described as having "less residual sugar than your normal berry cider", it feels lighter, airier, suitable for summer.
For most of the day in fact, I find myself gravitating towards these crisp, bright brews. Rogue has always appeared too "unsophisticated" for me but now I find myself drawn to their diversified graphics stating "fruit salad" and "pink gin." I am intrigued by both but Pink Gin wins out after I ask the man at the counter to give me his two cents: "Well, Pink Gin, cause I created that one." I am a broken record: "bright, airy, crisp!"
It is tempting to go for Schilling, their Ginger cider being a favorite. I want to start with brands I've never heard of. They have many more flavors than I realized, including a Chai cider taunting me with a display bottle to promote its release in the fall. Tony does cash in and allows me to sample what will be his weekend infatuation feature: Nitro Hops Cider. I am skeptical, not being a hoppy person, but it is surprisingly delish. Maybe I am just tasting the hype of Nitro, a method of infusing the cider with a "super charged" effect (or something). See how I just dropped some expert on ya, son? (suuure...)
I do my best to keep track of what is what, feeling it would be a blasphemous disservice to muddle them all into one sweet-tooth-bubbly category. Many of the crisp samples start to blend together but as we continue around the circle, more memorable tastes interject. I avoid international vendors but stop at Vermont-based Eden when I notice their Ice Cider offering. They fill the glass just enough not to get sick of it. The equivalent of a fine dessert wine, it is thick and syrupy and goes down smooth. The price is also hiked just enough to curb my temptation to buy it. The dessert portion of my liquid meal continues at D's Wicked Cider. Daniel is advertising his single brew as "Grandma's apple pie in a glass". My tickets are dwindling fast but I admit great curiosity. Tony buys in for the both of us and on one sip, I can vouch for honest advertising. We stick around to talk to the couple for a bit. Daniel just started up November after dabbling in experiments to find a cider that did not bother his partner's stomach. Voila, apple pie. They are not to far from Packwood - Kennewick, WA - but currently don't distribute very widely either. I foresee a Kennewick field trip in the future. We make two more stops before regrouping with Mary and Justin to sit and listen to some of the entertainment. The first is an unfortunately intriguing offer of Meyer Lemon cider. I am so deterred by the flavor I forget to even write down the brand. However, they did have a cool title based off the cider riots in England in the mid 1700's. I "squeeze" it down and rush to top off with an familiar favorite - 2 Towns.
The seating for the event consists of a few rows of concert chairs, grass (of course) and large round tables which lend themselves to group mingling. The atmosphere almost begs for strangers to strike up conversation and it makes me somewhat giddy (that and probably the cider). After taking a table, we a promptly joined by an old couple, Sue and Jim. Jim and I do a lot of talking about Ann Arbor, education, AmeriCorps, and DIY projects (cider, fermenting, pickles...) of which he has many since retiring. If I remember correctly, he originally has roots in Muskegon (or Detroit? I meet Michiganders out west on practically a daily basis when I'm in towns). Situated behind us is one of the few food vendors, Saint Honore Bakery. Jim and Sue get up a few times, coming back with a new treat each time and share samples with us. As infrequently as I eat those sorts of carb-y things, I seem to crave good-quality bread-goods. It quenches something inside.
We are veering into evening and decide it is time to head out on the town and find dinner. Mary and I make a stop at the State Farm tent to get a free henna design on our arm and then we leave, stopping at the car to drop off our collection of promotional stickers and gadgets.
I pull out a list of nearby restaurants that had sounded interesting and we vote on Henry's 12th St. Tavern. The restaurant is tucked away in a small alley and we sit outside among the high brick walls that remind me of a Viennese canal-way. Great choice. While we wait for our food, a group sets up and starts singing cover after cover of all of our favorite Packwoodian tunes. Later I run up to gush my praise at Steve Kreeger and his harmonizers. Then the food. I order the house-made veggie burger which tastes like a base of beets and rice and comes with richly seasoned waffle fries smothered in their signature gorgonzola cheese sauce. One of the first times I have ever finished such a sort of meal (granted I eat the next half the next day). I have to admit utter satisfaction with the fries. The burger surpasses many of the less flavorful attempts I’ve tasted when eating out, especially with their house-made spicy mustard. For once, I eat the full bread bun, satiating that desire once again. Pleasantly full, we head back to the house and call it a night. Time to rest up for another full day. 
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