When carbs are no object.

You know, whenever someone comes to visit. Or you're on vacation. Or it's Wednesday.

Since coming out of my bread phase years ago, (not unscathed), I've worked hard at balancing my meals with protein, complex carbs and fresh, green roughage.  This is not to say I've overcome my bread lust, but come on guys, it's fall. The harvest! Plenty to splurge on, plenty to run an extra mile for. And there's that chill in the air, advising our internal appetites to crave more carbs in order to survive our impending hibernation. Your very climate is pushing you toward more buttered rolls.

The hardest part of the holidays, of course, is peer pressure. Friends and family create a jolly atmosphere, the fire's crackling, and you do seem to feel warmer while chewing. People lose their resolve during these times, and if they like the good ol' American pastime of eating past the point of reason, you're going down with them.

Like last weekend.
Though all I remember are big breakfasts, baked goods and noodle soups, I'm pretty sure our friends Bianca and Micah were staying with us. Just a few blocks from our house, and hosting a pretty great view of the water, is Christo's, the Greek underdog of Alki Beach dining. A pizza joint by day and night, in the early hours they put on a spectacular morning meal. We ordered the french toast, the salmon omelet, the salmon benedict, coffee, pancakes, hash brownes. Sampling the whole menu is absolutely recommended, and you order your eggs exactly how you want them (over medium and broken!), cuz they can handle it. Our server, a grown-up delivery boy who was probably fighting with his mother in the kitchen, had the perfect amount of nonsense and efficiency; earning the Best Server So Far accolade - an award I don't hastily bestow.

You don't know.

We chose to do Vancouver in a day - a rainy, rainy cold day - and after wandering around the districts, we settled down at Wangs Taiwanese noodle house. We ordered the sweet steamed bun, the beef and green onion pancake (victory!), and a salted vegetable and pork noodle soup, but we should've all ordered their star dish, the beef noodle soup. It's the house specialty at Wangs, and all it takes is a taste of the broth to figure it out. The beef, oh, the beef, is tender, soft and yielding, with hours of flavor and a definite pro behind the work. The noodles are huge, and would get in the way if they weren't so utterly soaked in the broth, creating yet another way to savor this dish. Thank you Canada.

Tiny park folk

Back in the Emerald City, we hit up Bakery Nouveau so I could show off the twice-baked almond croissant, then headed to Lincoln Park. In the summer, it's a rich array of greens and texture. In the fall, this place loses its mind. We were enjoying the gentle sloping paths leading down to the beach, when Bill drew our eyes to a wash of yellow beyond some trees. We thought it was a big yellow tarp. Here's the real story:

My tree makes your tree look like crusty turd with hair.

From there it was time to head back to the homestead and put on our party clothes. Bill and I didn't get too many chances to sell our act that evening, (as the birds and the bees we wanted to spread love and awareness) because we went to Card Kingdom, where costume parties go to die. We left that graveyard to hit up The Monkey Bridge for dinner, which turned out to be just as tame. The only ones in costume in a packed little restaurant, we sat unattended for about 10 minutes. When we did get to order, they were out of half of what we wanted. Our pho was pretty decent though, and at the end of our meal, when we knew we'd f'd up and drank our weight in broth, our waitress brought out a 5lb. plate of coconut ice cream, and guess what? We ate it. *Shudder.

Complimentary dairy coma

Miserable, delirious, and past the point of reviving our good spirits, we sloshed back to the orgy of nerds to catch the costume contest. Bianca won the raffle and we got a good round of lively gaming in, but we couldn't undo our gluttony. Beaten, we went home.

You kids get back here!

Fast forward to Sunday, damp and shivering and browsing a farm store waiting for the Haunted Maze to open at Carlton Farm. There's beautiful jonagold apples and hot pork sammiches and apple cider and crumbly little tiny little baby pumpkin donuts. In the haunted maze, where I stepped far outside my usual daring, I learned a lesson. My everyday hallucinations in the dark are leagues more threatening than actors and chainsaws. The gimmicks they've got they push a little too hard. Please readers, get to a straight, un-haunted corn maze this season. Pay whatever they want and go wandering through the stalks at dusk. Go psych yourself out in there, have tiny existential panics and contemplate what's behind you until your socks are soaked through and you have to pee. You'll probably come out unmolested and refreshed, having led yourself through a dark time into the light.

Hoping for a little fright without all the fuss? Turn your lights down low and try watching a ghost show. Always works for me, and they're good for any occasion. As year-round as UFOs.

Raarrrr

Don't fritter your life away without the right equipment...

Breakfast again, at Pancake Chef, a throw-back to the golden age of dining with the creepiest slogan ever. Before our meal arrived, we were served this obnoxious plateful of butter. No one touched it, but with all its ceremonious presentation I'm guessing that we may have missed out one of their other signature dishes. Their crepes were average, their compote heavy and sweet, their corned beef hash a little spammy, but their straight pancakes were perfect. They also made some slammin apple fritters, served with applesauce. (?)

















And now, the creature of the week. It's local, hailing from a nearby farm in our region, boasting 9" in length and 2" in girth, it's my last jumbo carrot. I bought a bunch, and with tops so bushy and verdant, they were the envy of all my friends.

And that's the biggest knife we have.