>>>> After dodging Portland streetcar tracks in the killer wet and road construction forcing into non bike lane streets, I'm cold wet and ravenous. Hmm. Look at that, a restaurant packed with people eating brunch type food. There's no menu in the window, so I trust my instincts. I sit at the window with a young couple from New York. The man is dressed in an interesting manner, checkered shirt the color of a bluebird, bow true and a twenty dollar bill pined to his lapel. They proceed to tell me this place is famous and they always eat here whenever they come. Not sure if that means much, but I order the right thing a chorizo omelette with poblanos and quest fresco. My instincts for food are uncanny. Plus this will cost the same as the stuff from the good truck.
Let it rain.
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