Voodoo
The best travel guide I've ever received is one that was lovingly annotated by a father-daughter duo who adore Portland, and happen to be foodies too. I was so relieved that I wouldn't have to waste my time sussing out the city's gems. Not that you could miss Powell's City of Books in its block of gloriousness.
My first Portland visit was a veritable eating marathon. I mapped out (eating) stops according to neighborhood and succeeded in finding nearly every stop on my itinerary.
Except for Voodoo Doughnut.
It wasn't for lack of effort either. Armed with a map and a keen sense of direction, I searched. I walked in one direction. I turned around and walked in the opposite direction. I walked in a circle, but I just couldn't find the elusive shop that I'd read about. Donuts, wedding chapel, haven of goth. I had to see it. And sadly, without finding it, I had to give up and hop a plane home.
But I was given a second chance. A second trip to Portland. This time, less free time to eat and wander, but still some time to wander. And wander I did, along the river towards the weekend markets in search of a pastry. I didn't want to waste precious time searching for Voodoo, so I made a conscious decision to leave the shop's address at home. And then the best thing happened. In a moment reminiscent of those fabulous 80's Froot Loops commercials, I followed my nose to a wonderful, if extremely sugary breakfast.
It happened as I was wandering an alleyway. A whiff of something fried. Could it be? I stopped and sniffed. Which way to go? Follow your nose to fried goodness. When I turned the corner, there it was, Voodoo Doughnut (& Wedding Chapel as their brochure happily proclaims). It was 8AM and there was some weird chanty, gothy music bellowing from the speakers. It was pretty dark inside, and the doughnuts were as brightly colored as they were sugary. I didn't find the bacon maple bar, but it seemed like a good day for an apple fritter.
My only regret is that I wasn't there to witness Club Doughnut. Or their monthly eating contest. At least I know how to find it again (maybe).
My first Portland visit was a veritable eating marathon. I mapped out (eating) stops according to neighborhood and succeeded in finding nearly every stop on my itinerary.
Except for Voodoo Doughnut.
It wasn't for lack of effort either. Armed with a map and a keen sense of direction, I searched. I walked in one direction. I turned around and walked in the opposite direction. I walked in a circle, but I just couldn't find the elusive shop that I'd read about. Donuts, wedding chapel, haven of goth. I had to see it. And sadly, without finding it, I had to give up and hop a plane home.
But I was given a second chance. A second trip to Portland. This time, less free time to eat and wander, but still some time to wander. And wander I did, along the river towards the weekend markets in search of a pastry. I didn't want to waste precious time searching for Voodoo, so I made a conscious decision to leave the shop's address at home. And then the best thing happened. In a moment reminiscent of those fabulous 80's Froot Loops commercials, I followed my nose to a wonderful, if extremely sugary breakfast.
It happened as I was wandering an alleyway. A whiff of something fried. Could it be? I stopped and sniffed. Which way to go? Follow your nose to fried goodness. When I turned the corner, there it was, Voodoo Doughnut (& Wedding Chapel as their brochure happily proclaims). It was 8AM and there was some weird chanty, gothy music bellowing from the speakers. It was pretty dark inside, and the doughnuts were as brightly colored as they were sugary. I didn't find the bacon maple bar, but it seemed like a good day for an apple fritter.
My only regret is that I wasn't there to witness Club Doughnut. Or their monthly eating contest. At least I know how to find it again (maybe).
posted by erica at 6:55 PM
1 Comments:
YAY Portland! And yay donuts!
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