Sometimes I refer to Forest Grove, Oregon as a little shit-kicker town. For the most part it’s a sleepy town of about five thousand folks. It does, however, have a well-groomed downtown area centered around Pacific University, the Forest Grove library, and the city offices. It’s come along quite nicely in the 20 years in which I’ve been visiting.
For a couple of years I’ve been meaning to stop in and sample the cuisine at Forest Grove Sushi. Having done so tonight, my only regret is not having done so when I first thought of it. The design is half and half traditional and modern but with a true countertop glass sushi cooler. The sushi chef does the hand clap, always a good sign in my world. They offer a menu typical of many smaller japanese restaurants here in the states.
I ordered a Oregon roll; crab, avocado, cream cheese, cucumber, and topped with generous salmon and avocado slices that touch the plate on both sides of the roll. Absolutely delicious. The salmon was perfect. ~$8 / 8pcs.
I ordered red snapper nigiri at the same time and was surprised at the thickness of the pieces delivered. The size was impressive as well covering an area twice as large as the nigiri rice it is laid upon. ~$3.50 / 2pcs.
After demolishing the above I decided I needed to gather more intel. Next target: The FG roll. Tuna, salmon, crab, avocado, cream cheese, and cucumber in a roll with the nori on the outside. Again, highly delicious. ~$5 / 6pcs. All of the above were arranged artfully on traditional japanese plates and presented gracefully. The service was prompt and courteous and earned the server a handsome tip.
I ordered some rolls to take home to Sweetpea. An 8 piece California roll, $3.50, and an 8 piece inari roll, ~$3. The inari roll has strips of inari (fried sweet bean curd) with crab, avocado, and cucumber wrapped in nori with the rice on the outside. Sweetpea eagerly approved and promptly destroyed both.
If you’re on your way to Tillamook on Hwy 6, hop off at Banks and head south into Forest Grove to getcha some Forest Grove Sushi. After your meal you can either order some mochi right there or head out the back way from town, Hwy 8, and stop by Scotty’s for a soft-serve creamy cone or other frozen Americano fat bomb.
Damn. I could just kick myself for not having tried their sushi sooner.
Now I know.
The following will serve as a warning to you, the reader. It is a note sent to my brother prefacing a short story I had written. This post should be kept in mind if you decide to continue reading this blog.
Hey there mister,
I couldn’t decide whether to begin my Quicksilver trilogy or my epic space opera, so instead I chose to excrete the offal that you will find below. The main reason I began writing it was in order to hear my writing spoken by the Kindle. Damn if it doesn’t sound just like a work by a famous author! Either I have to make a recording of it, or you have to get you some Kindle action going on, or you have to find a Kindled spirit and trick them into uploading it onto their device and then beat them into turning on the text-to-speech so you both may share in the agony that is my writing. Hearing my writing is actually one of the best motivators that I’ve ever had. In fact, I’m rather surprised that the Kindle emitted no sparks! Neither did it deign to release its factory smoke charge. It’s a fucking miracle of modern technology that my monitor didn’t implode after the first sentence, though it had every right to. Who knows, if my technology continues to accept this drivel without crapping its buffers, then I’ll keep writing like a ferret on crystal meth. Let me know what you think. I’m pretty damned glad there’s 700 miles separating us because there’s nothing worse that a literary critic demonstrating his disgust by hurling a Molotov cocktail from a speeding vehicle to drive home the point that I have diverged from the well worn path of Joyce and Frost. Somebody told me that I should take a writing class. I told him that he should consider taking a shutting-the-hell-up class and that he could reasonably expect to graduate as the valedictorian. Actually, I told him that I already know how to write, as well as read, although not at the same time but I can switch off rather quickly.
The story is set in the future in a place that will become evident once you have read just a small portion, although I would truly appreciate it if you would continue reading, possibly to the end of the as yet unfinished story. I have taken the liberty of including a PDF of the same inane ramblings should you decide to share it with somebody in need of an intensely dysphoric experience. Please feel free to strip my name from the file and to tell the victim that you found this tract in a recycle bin or compost pile. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any shame or humiliation that almost certainly would be directed against you in light of being related to the author (I use that term very loosely…). Seriously though, I had to wrap six or seven layers of duct tape around my bulbous torso to keep from splitting my sides so you may want to consider taking such prophylactic measures before reading. Perhaps a strip over the eyes wouldn’t hurt either. Please be sure to use plenty of Neosporin on your eyes after you’ve stabbed them with pencils, you wouldn’t want an infection.