Sushi, Shopping, Continental Textiles, and a Recipe

Despite being a true introvert, I nevertheless tend to be chatty and even, alas, garrulous, and have little problem starting a conversation with complete strangers. However, as a result, I find out interesting things about them, and sometimes even end up finding some gems here and there.

Take today, for instance.  I had to take my car into the mechanics for its oil change and radiator flush, and this took a while.  Luckily, I had my knitting and my iPad with me to keep me amused, but this doesn't mean that these things necessarily make me ignore my environment, because I will glance up at people and overhear what they have to say.

So there was this guy and his wife who came in, and he was talking about making less money than some people he trained, which of course perked my ears up because I analyze and write resumes from time to time.  I said, "what, you earn less than the people you train? How does that happen?"  Well, he was referring to something else, but we started talking, and I discovered that Jimmy is the head chef and part owner of Trapper's Sushi over in Covington.  Being half-Japanese, I had to find out more, and let's just say I will go there sometime soon, possibly with my mother in tow.  Trust me, I will report back, but I anticipate good things from what he had to say about his training and the slight disgust I briefly saw on his face when he talked of "junk" sushi, and the subsequent passion I also saw when he talked about using fresh ingredients, etc.

Once I got my car back, inspired by the gourmet magazines at the mechanic's, I decided to go to the local health food store, Marlene's, which was out of my migraine vitamins, alas, but which did have other things that I bought. And because there had been an artisan bread baking class at the Marlenes that I unfortunately had not been aware of, it made me think of the lovely German breads I used to have, which then led me to the Valley Harvest grocery store on Military Road in Federal Way, which features not only foreign foods of all kinds and from all over the world, but the Eastern European "A Taste of Europe" deli and bakery.  That bakery has real European artisan bread, including kinds that I used to buy in Germany.  So, of course, I bought two loaves.

But before I even went to do that, I noticed a new store:  Continental Textiles.  Textiles!  Being interested in anything fiber-related, I had to go in. 

Immediately, I was overcome by nostalgia.  It was, in essence, a mix of the Aldi, Kik, or Tedi stores I used to go to in Germany and the Sittard market in the Netherlands, except it was clothing items and accessories, mostly for women.  And oh, my the scarves!  So many different scarves of different kinds, shapes, textures, and fabric!  The deals on these were amazing, as well.  I spotted a gorgeously rich red Pashmina (yes, real Pashmina) and silk scarf for only $20!  No, it was not a tiny thing, but a scarf that could cover your shoulders down to the middle of your back--essentially a shawl.  I seriously have never seen so many scarves (or men's ties) in so many colors and shapes in my life.

I talked with the store clerk/manager there, who is an American of (I'm guessing) Romanian heritage and who speaks Romanian and bit of Russian, and she said she originally worked in the Portland, Oregon store, and came up here when this one opened up.  In the course of our chat, I found that she, too, had been to Germany--specifically Cologne, and so was familiar with the outdoor markets such as the Sittard one that I often went to in the Netherlands, not to mention the magnificent Köln Cathedral. We chatted for a while, and I found out that between this Federal Way, WA store and the Portland, OR one, Continental Textiles has the largest collection of scarves and shawls in the United States.

I don't doubt this.  Had I had my camera with me, I would have taken a picture of all those scarves and shawls, in colors and edging designs I've never seen before. It seems the gal who works there--Lia, I believe her name is--and her mother actually designed many of the dyed scarves and edgings in the shop.  As the daughter of a professional tailor, I was VERY impressed by the workmanship.  The designs and other items in the store have a distinctly European flair, and if you want that bit of je ne sais quoi with which to accessorize, that store should help.

I should also mention that if you are fond of tea, this store has a number of very nice traditional European tea sets, and I mean the delicate china sets with gold edges and delicate flowers and baroque curls on them.  They also have modern glass tea pots.

When I mentioned that I felt nostalgic when I came into the store because it made me remember my time in Europe, Lia laughed and said that everyone who has stepped into the store who has immigrated from elsewhere has said it seemed like a part of home to them. "Even some women from Ethiopia," she said.

It made me reflect on what I had mentioned to Jimmy the Trapper's chef at the car repair place in Auburn: it really isn't Seattle that's culturally diverse; it's South King County.  When I lived in Seattle, I don't think I met or really talked with one Russian, Ukrainian, Mexican, Guatemalan, Korean, Indian, Pakistani, they were that rare.  But living in South King County, there is not one day when I don't interact with someone from another nation or race.  Here, you'll find home cooking in restaurants owned by people from another country, or who were trained in that country's dishes.  I can get German spätzle here at a decent price, not overpriced as I'm sure I'd have to pay in a Seattle specialty store, because this is where native Bavarians or Ukrainians shop, who--like me--can't afford to own a home in Seattle.  I can get all the spices I need for a Garam Masala, or Ethiopian Doro Wot without paying an arm and a leg.  And I am pretty much guaranteed to get what the people from these countries normally buy at home, because I shop where they shop.

Seriously, aside from the fact that it's awfully expensive to live there, I don't think I'd want to move back to Seattle.  I love looking at people from different countries and guessing where they might have come from, and trying to talk to them if they are able to speak English well. 

Diverse?  Oh yeah.  And I really love it, because it's like having my own little bit of Europe or Asia or Africa right here at home.

Oh, and what did I do with that European artisan bread (similar to German bauernbrot)?  I decided to create a dish to go with it: Delicata squash (seeds removed) filled with chopped bacon and leeks, baked at 400 degrees for 40 minutes, then topped with chunks of chicken and zucchini in Alfredo sauce and grated fresh Parmesan cheese on top of that, then back in the oven to broil for 5 to 10 minutes until the Parmesan cheese was melted.  Yum!

Zola's Cafe in Auburn--Yes!

So I went shopping yesterday for jeans, and started to miss the shopping experience I had while in Europe.  This is how you do it there:  you go out in the morning (usually with a friend), take a while shopping (usually in an outdoor market, but there is often regular stores nearby, within walking distance), then you have a very leisurely lunch in a funky little restaurant or cafe with a great atmosphere and good food and chat and/or do some people watching.  This whole process can take about four hours, and yes, I know, we Americans have a hard time even thinking of taking that long to shop, but keep in mind that you don't just shop, you have a shopping experience.  There's no rush.  You linger over the items to buy, compare prices, get some bargains, and then because this is a lot of work and walking around, you take some time to relax and enjoy your environment, and I don't mean going to a shopping mall food court and stuffing down fast food and hurrying off.  No, you sit and relax, because shopping for bargains and the best deal you can get is real work, and you deserve some pleasure out of it all.

I couldn't do much at the moment about the missing friends, but I could do something about the cafe.

There was a cafe I remembered, from before we went to Germany, in downtown Auburn.  I hoped it was still there, because it had a good feel, with comfortable chairs and such.  Luckily, I found it again, and indeed it had that Sittard Market feel.  It's Zola's Cafe, and to my delight, they had expanded their menu, and had added some VERY nice beer (English ales, as well as a genuine German Hefe Weissbier!) as well as some good looking wine.  I didn't have any of the wine or beer, since I was driving, but they did have mineral water (I remembered in time to call it sparkling water).  They also had espresso.  All the drinks that you would find in an European cafe.

Their menu, so far, is light, with a Mediterranean slant.  I've been on a non-high fructose corn syrup kick since I came back from Germany (food tastes very sweet to me now), so I was glad to find they make their own foccacia bread, so there is definitely no corn syrup in that, plus their sourdough has no corn syrup in it either.  I had a grilled ham and cheese sandwich on the foccacia bread, and there was a nice bit of decorative salad with pickle on the side, enough for a contrast to the sandwich. Not too much, not too little. Just right.

I also found to my delight that they have live music every Friday evenings from 7 pm to 9 pm.  The music ranges from blues, jazz, "indie," and country-western.  No cover charge, but you can tip the musicians, which I think is important (they are providing a service, after all), as well as buy their CDs.  Zola's events calendar has links to the musicians' web sites/music, so you can hear what they sound like.

The staff is friendly and the service good, and they do take the time to chat a bit as you are ordering your food if it's not horrendously busy.  I hope to persuade John to go there one evening and have a light dinner there, relax, and sip some wine or beer as we listen to some good music.  I'll let you know what it's like after we do.

Paris, Part Three

You can't put such a thing as that poor hurt French girl out of one's mind; obviously I haven't put it out of my mind even now.  But, facts were facts:  we had done all we could, and there was nothing more to be done.  As John and I headed back to our hotel, we discussed the incident, and then tried to think of other things.  It was hard.  When you witness something that shocking, the rational part of you understands the limitations of the situation, of being human, of not being able to do more, and understands that those with medical experience are much more able--should be the ones--to deal with it, and that ordinary civilians could do more harm than good.  But the heart doesn't reason like that, and there is always a bit that wishes, hopes, wonders if somehow you could have done more. And for us, there isn't closure.  We will probably never know what happened to that young woman.

We are old enough to know that unless you move on past something that hurts and is difficult, unless you make the best of what you have, you do no one any good.  It was our first day in Paris, a Friday.  We had Saturday and Sunday, and then we'd leave on Monday.

We would make the best of our stay in Paris.

What the...? And Other Finds While Shopping

Yet another thing that makes this little ol' American gal stop and think, no, you are not in Auburn, WA any more, but in Europe, specifically a European neighborhood grocery store:

Yes, lest you think "Mäusepisse" can't possibly mean what it looks like, there is a picture to let you know that this does indeed mean "Mouse Piss." It is a liqueur that can be found in the liquor section of the local grocery store (all types of alcohol are sold in grocery stores--there are no separate liquor-only stores like we have in the U.S.), and which is made up of milk, vanilla, and (I think) wheat of some kind. And in case you were wondering what that rather phallic-looking bottle next to the Mäusepisse is all about, all I will say is that the label has pictures of happy little sperm swimming about on it.