DIGITAL EDITION

Fall 2020

“Beware the Ides of March.”

It’s a foreboding message that has been around for many years; an ominous warning that something is coming that will change the entire world. Heeding Shakespeare’s telling of history, it’s a warning that Julius Caesar ignored because he felt untouchable and nothing could take down him and his mighty empire.

But earlier this year, as COVID-19 was making its ugly introduction in Seattle and starting to reach pandemic levels, Governor Jay Inslee and public health officials made the announcement that bars, restaurants, places of entertainment and recreational gatherings would be shutdown to limit the spread of the virus. 

March 15, 2020. 

Et tu, Coronavirus?

The stories I have heard from friends in the community and folks in the industry have been both heartbreaking and heartwarming. 

Like so many of us, I have struggled being away from my friends and family. Brooks, one of my most cherished childhood friends, died suddenly in May. Not being able to join with others to mourn him and celebrate his life has been the hardest part of the past six months.

Brooks was someone who never said “no” to his friends or any of their crazy ideas—especially when those ideas involved some combination of food, travel and his favorite sports teams.

Once, during a visit to New York, I suggested we stop at the West Village outlet of The Meadow, Portland’s noted boutique retailer of finishing salts, cocktail bitters and artisan chocolates. As we wandered around the store, Brooks grabbed one of owner Mark Bitterman’s business cards from beside the cash register. Bitterman has dubbed himself a selmelier, and his portmanteaued title was enough to send Brooks into a giggle-fit. His laughs filled the small and crowded shop, eliciting haughty looks from hipsters hoping to shop in silence. Brooks walked over to me and regained his composure just enough to say “This is the most pretentious store, ever.”

I knew by laughing and making a scene, it meant that he loved it. I think that he probably spent close to $500 that day, stocking up on finishing salts that he imagined might take his favorite recipes to the next level and even buying copies of Bitterman’s books.

It’s a story that I remembered recently while wondering when I will feel comfortable enough to travel again and how small boutique shops like The Meadow and others will fare as the coronavirus continues to change our shopping and eating habits and the landscape of small businesses. It’s a story that I would’ve loved reliving with Brooks to hear him laugh while retelling it before chatting about new foods we’ve been making, discussing what Cowboys games might look like with 80,000 cardboard cutouts of Jerry Jones in the stands, and hearing him go on about his newborn nephew or most recent fishing trip. But instead, it’s a story I’m sharing with you.

And now I am asking you to share your stories with us by emailing me at the address below. What restaurant or shop can you not wait to visit again soon? Did you ask a friend for a secret recipe because social distancing kept you from the real thing? What were you hoping to eat on that family trip that was canceled?

So many of our memories are centered around food: sharing a meal, passing a family recipe on to the next generation, a hunting trip. This issue is full of memories, both positive and negative, about food and this pandemic. And as members of this community, they are memories that we should all share and record for history.

Yes, the world looks and feels different. We have all faced loss during this time. The past six months have been unlike anything we have seen before. No one knows what the new normal will be or when we can expect it, but we have the opportunity to figure it out together, make new memories and work towards making our community a better place for all of our friends and neighbors.

I hope to share these stories and memories with you for years to come.

Purchase a Print Edition for $10.

Stories in this edition