X’s and O’s

It dawned cold and bright in Portland and I thought it would be a good day to go downtown to walk around and have brunch at Mother’s Bistro. Mother’s is owned by Lisa Schroeder. In 1992, while juggling a marketing and catering career and raising her daughter, Lisa realized there was no place that served the kind of food she would make if she had the time. She concluded what the world needed was a place which served “Mother Food” – slow-cooked dishes, made with love. Signs around the restaurant admonish diners to “Call Your Mother.” She honors the “mother of the month” among her staff, highlighting one of their own recipes. And she has a sense of humor. On the back of the t-shirts of her servers is “Spooning leads to Forking so use Condiments.” If one comes to Portland, Mother’s a must.

Mother’s struggled through the pandemic, but her restaurant is thriving once again and it is often hard to get a table. I arrived and, there being a wait list for a table, told the host I would be happy to sit at the counter. She said go ahead and sit wherever I wanted there. Most people in my experience try to leave at least one counter seat open next to them, afraid that sitting immediately next to a stranger might be considered an invasion of the other person’s (or their own) personal space. 

For example, the seating options at the counter when I arrived were:

O O O X O

where O is an open seat, and X is occupied. In my younger years I would have taken the one on the far left, leaving two in between. Now in my later years, I have discovered the joys of striking up conversations with total strangers, so I chose the seat on the far right. The diner next to me was finishing up, and had her credit card ready. She looked slightly away since I had violated the unwritten rule about leaving an open seat in between.

After getting settled, I asked her “any recommendations?”

She turned, paused, and said “I had the omelette special and it was very good. It’s not on the menu though.”

I thought I detected an accent. “Are you visiting?”

“No I live in Portland now.”

“Is that an accent? Are you Canadian?”

She laughed. “I get asked that a lot, but no, I’m from Ireland.”

“Ah, sorry, I’m from Canada and can usually tell.”

“Oh, what part of Canada?” This led to a discussion of our respective backgrounds. She left Ireland when she was 20, and after a few years in Chicago, came to Portland and has been here for 25 years. She wondered if I was a visitor. “No, I live in Portland, in the South Waterfront area.”

“Then what brings you downtown to Mother’s Bistro?” she asked.

“I used to keep an office downtown, and loved it. I’ve always enjoyed walking around downtown, going to Powell’s Bookstore, having breakfast at one of the numerous brunch places, seeing all that was going on. I loved that you could walk anywhere in Portland, at any time of the day or night, and feel perfectly safe.” 

“I know! Portland is wonderful!” she blurted.

“Now, after the pandemic,” I said, “I still like coming downtown to take the temperature of the city, and see what areas are recovering and which are not.”

I ordered the Migas, a delicious mixture of jack cheese, green onions, peppers, corn tortilla strips, chipotle sour cream, and housemade salsa.

“So what brings you downtown to Mother’s today?” I asked. “Do you live nearby?”

She laughed. “No, my husband and I have an arrangement. Each month or so, one of us goes away for a night so we can take a break from each other. This is my time away. I manage four hotels in the area so I get the employee discount and stayed in one of them last night. After this I am going for a spa day and getting my nails done before going home.”

“I love it! One of the reasons I am here by myself is so that my wife and I have some ‘away’ time from each other, since we spent all day together yesterday. When I was still in practice, I was gone 10 to 12 hours a day, and she got used to having the house to herself. Now that I’m retired, it’s hard sometimes, so my being here today is some of our ‘away’ time.”

We talked some more, and then after awhile she started to get up, saying “well, I suppose I need to get going.”

“What’s your name, by the way?”

“Linda, and yours?”

“Ken.”

“This has been just delightful,” she said with a big smile, the nervousness of a total stranger sitting next to her and making conversation having long passed. “I’m so glad you sat here. I’ve really enjoyed this.” 

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s been fun visiting with you. I always prefer sitting at the counter when I am alone, rather than a table by myself.”

“I agree!” She started rummaging through her purse. “Here, let me give you my card.” She couldn’t find one, so she wrote her email address on the back of her receipt and gave it to me. “Three of my hotels are at the airport. If you and your wife are ever flying off somewhere, let me know and I’ll arrange for you to park your car at one of them.” 

She left, and by now a group of three had been seated at the three counter seats to the far left, leaving an empty seat next to me. I enjoyed my coffee, and after a bit, my Migas.

Soon, another woman came and took the open seat. I gave her some time to explore the menu before saying “the woman who had been sitting there had the omelette special and said it was really good. I’m having the Migas.” 

We began a conversation. Her name is Mandy, and she is visiting her brother. She is from Madison, Wisconsin. “Oh, I’ve been there,” I responded. “Love that place. Great college town, just the right size, on a lake.” (Like the Johnny Cash song, ‘I’ve been everywhere, man, I’ve been everywhere’.)

I told her “I go to Oshkosh for the big aviation festival there every few years. I’m going again next year. On the way there one time I stayed in Milwaukee and went to the Braut Festival. The Steve Miller band was playing.”

“Did you have a brat?” she asked.

“Yup, love them.”

She loves Portland too, thinks it’s a great town. We talked about fasting (she went 36 hours once), and listening to your body (I eat a meal late morning, and usually don’t get hungry again until 7pm). 

Her food arrived. We talked some more and then I said “I’ll leave you to your oatmeal.” With a big smile, she thanked me for visiting with her.

A wonderful morning, made better by violating the rule of Xs and Os, and sitting next to a total stranger.