NE 8th Avenue, Portland, November 27, 2011—GUYS SHOP WELL for groceries, so think I. Tonight, our last night in Portland for a while, the thinking had been to order a delivery of noodles from a Korean takeout the family thinks highly of. I was in a minority when we discovered it was closed on Sundays.
Let's just go to the store and cook something, I said, and Pavel and I drove to the supermarket, where we bought an already-prepped boneless pork roast, a couple of packages of padrones, a couple of packages of pasta, and a supply of arugula. Oh: and a lemon or two.
The roast — actually, I'd call it a rollito — took a short hour to cook and needed no attention at all. Simon washed the arugula. We dressed the strozzapreti, once cooked and drained, with olive oil, lemon juice and minced garlic; I sliced up the roast; the arugula was dressed just like the pasta; and Bob's your uncle.
But what was the wine? Red, after a preliminary bottle of very nice Verdicchio…