German Yakisoba is a Thing, You Guys

You guys, I made German yakisoba. ??? Let me back up: I started with Nicky Farms’ incredible wild boar/pork caraway-dill sausage, roasted in a quickie choucroute garnis with Savoy cabbage and the juice/garlic/spices from my homemade sour dill pickles, fried onions and horseradish from my 

Wasting Away Again

Slushy margarita part deux: good tequila, @goyafoods frozen tamarind pulp (from Dashen International Market on 30th/Glisan), lime juice, honey, ice, with a sprinkle of Sarah's Volcano Sparkles™ gifted to me from @spicymarshall #margaritas #drinkglobally A post shared by Heather Arndt Anderson (@heatherarndtanderson) on Jun 25, 

Put Down the Pitchforks and Pick Up the Corn Dogs

Shit’s been getting pretty real in Portland food media lately. The sudden closure of a two-Becky-owned burrito joint has caused indignant accusations of cultural appropriation (both from the “how dare you, sir” and “what’s the big deal” sides), widening the rift between SJWs and white supremacists. 

Final Fantasy is Reality

My latest piece is live in the Portland Mercury!

Chicken Pot Pie

Hey, I know I can’t bake. I hate making pastry dough, and pie crust, and all that. Too much work. But one I thing I can do right is make fun of myself. I decided it would be absolutely hilarious if I used the scraps 

Rumple Minze hot chocolate

I got your Holiday Cheer right here. Ghirardelli Double Chocolate cocoa with Rumple Minze peppermint schnapps and marshmallows. Serve with Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate-Covered Peppermint Joe Joe’s for dunking. They taste like a cross between Girl Scouts Thin MInts and Oreos, with crushed candy cane 

Crawdad Sliders with Hot Sauce and Fennel Frond Mayo

…or, ZOMG! Crawfish Boil 2008! Now! With updated soundtrack! Our good friends Jeremy and Alicia have an annual crawfish boil, since Jeremy is from New Orleans and they have what might actually be a full acre in North Portland. Okay, this wasn’t really my food 

Careful What You Ask For, or Duck, Duck, Goose

Friday night Scott and I were at a wedding, talking to my cousin Nathan about bird hunting and whatnot. Since the wedding had a no-host bar, I was taking frequent nips off my flask of fine Kentucky bourbon with great aplomb. It should be noted