Text 8077, 88 rader
Skriven 2008-05-30 23:34:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: olympia 386
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We decided to hit the Olympia farmers' market for some more
oysters. An easy half hour down the freeway (despite its being
the beginning of a holiday weekend). The place is right by the
water, which is not reflected so much by the setting as by the
smell of the sea, which is very evocative.

Hap sure has bunches of friends here. The first we found was the
pepper man; of course peppers are not in season. We had samples
of apple instead before proceeding through the market.

One of Hap's former co-workers was selling at the Johnson Sausage
Co., where we got an assortment of beefy comestibles. Sampled the
extra hot jerky, which was quite tasty but not very extra hot.
Picked up a fire stick for now (a Slim Jimmish type of arrangement,
only it tasted good, with pleasant spice and pleasant smoke; as
expected only modestly fiery) and hot links and Gut Bombs for later.

Then to the oyster man (the main reason this excursion was suggested
was that I had this hankering - not fully satisfied as of yet - for
good Pacific shellfish), who gave us a sample of Tasmanian oysters -
sweet and briny and full of flavor. We asked him to shuck us some,
but it turns out that he's not allowed to do that, else he become
a restaurant. Giving samples he's allowed to do. We asked if we could
take a dozen samples and then perhaps give him free samples of our
money. No go. Quick conference, and it was decided we would trek the
mile or so to the grocery and get us an oyster knife.

The grocery is the infamous Thriftway, whose name is a terrible
misnomer - prices here rival those of the gourmet yuppie places
such as Whole Foods. We found what we were looking for, though.
$8 for a big-bladed clumsy thing.

So back to the oyster man who sold us a dozen pieces that included
a couple of triples. We repaired to a picnic table and shucked and
slurped away. It may have been a coincidence, but both of us sliced
ourselves on our last oyster. Hap got a cut finger, I think, and I
now have a nice scar on the flap of skin between left thumb and
forefinger. The oysters, by the way, were all but one of them
terrific. I got the bad one and spat it out immediately.

A tour of the eating places at the market revealed nothing out of
the ordinary, so the oyster appetizer was our entire intake there.

Our last stop: Batdorf & Bronson coffee roasters, where Hap
got a pound of his favorite and I got a bar of Theo chocolate,
a 76% from Ivory Coast - this was slightly waxy but with
decent melt, fruity, a touch of dark spice, pretty good.

=
Being just a tiny bit peckish - oysters have no calories, of course
- I asked Hap if there were any interesting holes in the wall that
I hadn't been introduced to before, where I could drop a fiver or a
tenner and get a tasty snack. We ended up at the Manila Center Diner,
a really ramshackle low building in an uninspiring neighborhood of
Tacoma. The inside was as unprepossessing as the outside, but there
were nice smells and a rather nice vibe emanating from the place.

Hap's bbq pork special was good, though not like American BBQ nor
Chinese BBQ nor yet Filipino BBQ. It was, you might say, sooee generis.

I ordered a pancit and pork adobo combo. The pancit, a mixture of
glass and egg noodles (I've always had it with all one or the other)
was a nice filler-upper, though with more celery and soy than I am
used to. The adobo was of a mild sourness and quite good - it was of
course made with shoulder meat, so there were lovely fatty bits and
a chunk of gristly bit that any Asian would appreciate but that I
figure white folks might pale at. It was a biggish serving for not
much money, so you might call it sooee generous.

Though it was late for lunch, as we were finishing up a pair of old
white ladies whose demeanor and appearance had Garden Club written
all over them ordered a couple plates of Philippine specialties.

Back at the house: Laughing Buddha Pandan - brown ale made with palm
sugar and pandan leaves - low hopping, slightly sweet and vanillary;
I characterized it as a dessert beer. We both enjoyed it for our own
reasons. Even Anne liked it. Also the Gut Bomb, which was characterized
as the hottest thing Johnson had, and if you ate it cold, it was okay,
but few people could tolerate it heated up. We had ours heated up:
substantial but by no means difficult heat; a way-too-soft texture, as
of kneaded meat a la bologna. Not great flavor - I think that, in
common with other operations, Johnson has decided that people who
like hot food can't be bothered with taste buds.


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