Portland!

I ate this, HB had the apple fritter.

Update: I should confess this post ended on a hurried note as HB texted me there was free wine in the hotel lobby.  I meant to add that my doughnut was so filled with a fabulous jam that I felt like a cannibal, and the jam was his innards.  The jam tasted real, not factory made.  HB's apple fritter was loaded with fresh apple pieces.  The dough itself was like eating sweet clouds.  Oh my goodness...

I was hoping to report on the delicious morsels found at the Portland Food Trucks, but alas, they are unworthy.  It may be that there are a few really good ones, but we didn't find them.  In their place we found a lot of rank smelling spots, where cooking oil is rarely fresh.  I tried a truck with Indian items, run by Punjabis.

I suspect that the overall pinkness of Oregon causes a general blandification of food, so that garlic, chillis, any interesting spices are frowned upon.  The urad dal, zuchini, and mixed dal dish I ordered was flavourless, although I could detect a bit of fenugreek in there somewhere, and knew there had to be turmeric, as the packaging the food came in left an indelible mark on a nice pair of previously white pants...  Otherwise, the dish was innocent of spices.

In an actual restaurant Husband Person ordered a Jerk chicken sandwich that carried the faintest whiff of cardamom, but was otherwise equally innocent of the usual hot spices normally associated with Jerk seasoning...

Only a half hour wait in the blazing sun...

But when we saw so many people walking along with pink boxes labelled Voodoo Doughnuts, we knew we had to get us some o' that!

Was the half hour wait in line worth it?

Oh, yes.