In early October, I drove deep into Oregon’s wine country twice, but I never had a sip of wine.
While early dusk settled across downtown Portland, the sun still shone brilliantly orange a mere fifteen minutes away, casting long and dappled light onto Sauvie Island.
Talking about food is best on a full stomach, as the resulting discourse, often fraught and conflicted, flows best when not hindered by hunger-induced crankiness.
My husband recently rushed home from picking up a box of pasta at our local grocery store, eager to relay a conversation he’d overheard before forgetting its details.
As much as they might crave a comfy couch, a relaxing beverage, and a sturdy ottoman, farmers don’t have the luxury of sitting down for an extended chat.
Last summer, Nathan Moomaw recruited customers for his new pastured based meat farm, Moomaw Family Farm, before owning a single animal.
Few words are as visually evocative, or as illustrative of their definition, as “tumbleweed”.
It was more than open land that I suddenly craved; I wanted to interact with more of nature’s elements than just water.
There's frequently a disconnect between how people portray themselves online, and how they act in reality: the bubbliest, most engaged person on iChat ends up being taciturn and standoffish in person.
"Sorry, I take pictures of poop," Shanna Schlitz ruefully shrugged as she crouched over an unidentified specimen with her iPhone.
Since moving to Portland, I've quickly developed an appreciation for a wide range of tattoo art.
Spending time on a farm tends to lead to deep philosophical conversations about the nature of life and society.
On a recent episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, Bourdain explored Austin, Texas during the insanity of the South by Southwest (SXSW) music festival.
Harry Short grows varieties of vegetables that you've never heard of.