Meet The Team / Sarah Gilbert

I keep four delightful chickens in my backyard for their plentiful fresh eggs and overall charm as pets. Here in Portland, Oregon, backyard chickens are somewhat in vogue, and I subscribe to a lively Yahoo! group dedicated to all that is urban chicken farming. (No. We don't eat our chickens. Because I knew you would ask.)

Yesterday, one of its members, Lori, gathered some eggs from her Ameraucana, and boiled them up for breakfast. Imagine her surprise when she peeled one that had cracked in the pan -- the perfect image of the Virgin Mary!

Lori's trying to figure out if she can preserve the egg. In the meantime, let us know what you think: is God once again speaking to us from our food? And is he reminding us how we should all treat our chickens better? I think so.

[Larger version of photo after the jump.]

In the Pacific Northwest, there's a place called Burgerville. The beef is always free-range and the salads always sport local hazelnuts. But nothing compares to you, seasonal fresh strawberry milkshake. And nothing says summer is coming! like a strawberry milkshake sparkling, dripping in the sunlight as you pull away from the drivethrough. Ahhhh ... life is good here in Portland.

[Photo Sarah Gilbert]

I think this package says it all. I picked up a pound of maple sausage, the delectable links that my family has always called "breakfast sausage" without allowing a title to limit our consumption. No, we eat it from dawn 'til dusk, despite its moniker.

Evidently, Fred Meyer (our local grocery and part of the Kroger gi-nomerate) is worried that the name "breakfast sausage" will limit more conservative families to (horrors!) eat it only during breakfast. They've changed the label so it reads, "maple flavored sausage" and "delicious anytime!"

Thank you, Fred Meyer, for freeing us -- and our sausages -- from the shackles of breakfast.

I'm a coffee aficionado (or as they might say it in Panama, aficionado de café), but I'm also on a budget. And although I'd love to drink nothing but that lyrical Stumptown Sidamo or the deep, dark, delicious Thundermuck, well, $10 a pound is a but much for every day.

Thus I was delighted to see a new 12-ounce can of coffee for only $3.99 at Trader Joe's last week: Panama Café Duran. My little sister Jenny lives in Panama and I've drunk Duran before; it's the everyday coffee found in every Panamanian supermarket. I know it's decent, and in the hands of Trader Joe's it is fresh, balanced, and just dark enough to satisfy that part of me that longs for those polished mucky beans so revered here in Portland.

Yesterday I picked up another can and as I was reaching for it another woman was looking at the green-and-yellow can, considering. "It's good!" I said, "and cheap!" I know you're going to be in Trader Joe's, and you'll be wondering, too. Go for it.

Yesterday I picked "Ethiopia Sidamo" from the thermal pot at my fave local coffee shop, on a whim. I almost never go with the boring, ordinary Colombian house blend. Sometimes I'm wowed by my alternative selection, other times it's just coffee.

Color me wowed. I can't get enough of this stuff. It tastes like berries. No lie. And I'm sure you're thinking, coffee that tastes like berries? I totally passed that raspberry-flavored stuff up in the coffee aisle at my grocery store. But this is more a terroir thing (do they call it terroir in coffee?). The coffee beans, they're not that different from grapes, after all. Roasting brings out these amazingly complex and, yes, fruity flavors. According to the roaster, Stumptown Coffee, "The cup is Neopolitan ice cream... Intense chocolate, strawberry and creamy vanilla flavors in every sip." Plus it's organic and fair-trade and ohmigod I am so in love with this coffee. I wish I could give you a taste, you'd never be the same.