A family reunion on the Oregon coast drove an eating frenzy across the state a couple of weeks ago. My family of four is all about the food so we planned our trip by the menu. Road-tripping was the way to go so we could combine it with a college tour at the University of Oregon, a top pick for my high school Junior. My son invited two friends for company. Our youngest ran off to Colombia with his Spanish class and no way was our oldest going this trip alone. “This is the one time I actually want my brother around!” he exclaimed.

Looks F-U-N!

I was getting nostalgic preparing for this trip. I told the guests to bring pillows, favorite blankies and tons of snacks. I planned old-fashioned car games like Car Bingo and License Plate Scavenger Hunt to pass the non-restaurant hours. I printed game cards off the Internet, five copies so we could all play, three sixteen-year-olds, hubby and me. This was going to be so fun, 1970s playtime and an awesome eating adventure. An eight-hour drive was never so appealing.

Travel Blankie.

A foodie friend said, “Make a beeline to Ashland! All the food is great there.” We had plenty entertainment to last for five hours until lunch; I was so organized. The first words I hear about the Bingo, “Ahh man. Those games were bad even when I was 7.” Dang! I was already keeping my eyes peeled for exotic plates from Hawaii or Florida amongst the sea of California and Oregon plates. I was going to WIN this game. I played anyway, mentally speaking, as I was driving and no way to document my sightings. Hubby was stuck on a conference call and the guys played poker with Altoids. Hmph.

Ashland

As we drove into Ashland, one teen said, “Hey! I know where to eat. I went to this place in 8^th grade and the Reuben sandwiches were great. The service was slow though.” Can we trust a teen’s memory and tastes? We looked for this corner restaurant at every corner. He couldn’t remember the name. As we searched, I noticed an abundance of hair salons. Who goes? Clearly the street musicians and dreadlock crowd packing the sidewalks were not customers.

We found Zoey’s Café and Ice Cream, on a corner just like he said. It was kind of a diner type place, nothing fancy. The chicken and lettuce wrap was pretty good and downright fresh and healthy. The boys opted to sit away from us, a preview of the trip to come. Hubby stared into his work computer over his sandwich. I made like a teenager and messed around with my phone reading facebook articles I usually save for later and later never comes.

I checked in at the boys’ table, offering ice cream for dessert. They looked at me with daggers. How could I interrupt their teenage banter and associate myself with their awesomeness? Oh what an adventure we were having! Thank God for my iphone, my buddy I just might name HIM like the movie HER. (FYI: A man has a relationship with a computer in this flick.)

EUGENE

Three hours later, we had dinner at Beppe and Giannis Trattoria, just the food we were looking for in Oregon. The homemade pasta was dense and perfectly aldente. We sat together, no computers or iphones. Hubby chatted up the guys about cars and music. I chimed in with a comment or two, bringing any conversation to a halt. She talks? I’ve never seen words hang in the air like that, ominous and untouchable. I was afraid to speak again. Hey, but the food, now that I could sink my teeth into and keep my mouth closed while I ate; I’m a polite eater.

Crazy good.

‘No Really Though’ I ate it all!

The next day, I made The Teens get up early to fit in breakfast before the college tour. I was so popular with that request. “C’mon! We are going to eat at Off the Waffle! Doesn’t that sound cool?!?” Ya gotta love a place that names its waffles No Really Though and Goat in Headlights. If I didn’t know any better, I swear the names sounded like nail polish colors, i.e. Do ‘Ya Wanna or Style Hunter. The Teens sat at the cool kids table again and I ate in silence while hubby worked on his phone. Hubby told the guys, “Don’t go into sales.  No vacations.”  The waffle was a good friend; I liked it a lot: strawberries, bacon, basil, spinach, balsamic vineagar and syrup. Mmm. No time for talking I was eating, again!

After the college tour, I told the guys we MUST go to VooDoo Doughnuts! Again, they looked at me with lackluster enthusiasm, “Uhhhh. Ok.” Wow. I wasn’t even talking Bingo. Once we got there, they opened up. Jumping into a life-size voodoo doll with a face cut-out for photos and taking the Tex-Ass doughnut challenge, eating an oversized glazed-raised in 140 seconds. One of our guys did it and saved us $4.25! Voo Doo had a hip menu too with cool names like Memphis Mafia and The No-Name Doughnut. On to lunch at The TapHouse where salads balanced the sweet carbs we were noshing.

Attracts teens.

Memphis Mania & No Name

Day 1. Oregon Coast, Newport

On the coast dinner was burgers and dogs on the grill, just like my dad used to make, cooked well. Feel free to interpret. Hubby and Dennis did their best on unfamiliar BBQs. I warned the boys it was the end of the fancy line. My aunt met the boys and commented on how much they all had grown. Boy did the guys want to play that one for all it was worth. I saw them licking their chops, eyes lit. I set my aunt straight about them being friends of Irish descent, just not McQuillan blood. When you don’t see the nieces and nephews often it’s hard to tell who is family.

DAY 2. Oregon Coast, Still Newport

The guys were so happy to sleep in the next day, no rush to go anywhere. We figured food would get them out of bed. By 10:30 we called their room, hoping they knew how to use a landline phone, no cell service at the Otter Inn Resort.  They answered but were slow to get ready.  By 11:30 we were eating brunch at the South Beach Fish Market, literally a shack and picnic tables we found by accident and liked the look. We ordered two rounds of fish and chips, steamers and clam chowder. If you don’t like fish because it’s fishy, this place is so fresh you don’t get fishy flavor in your fish. We had fried everything from the sea: cod, halibut, salmon, albacore, oysters, and calamari. The guys lit up when we suggested the fish market for breakfast before we left.

BEST fish EVER!

Reunion Dinner: My sister told us not to come to the dinner hungry. We were there for the view. Unfortunately, we stuffed ourselves silly at brunch; we were starved by dinner. Nothing like bad buffet food to make you lose your appetite. The glowing, runny mac and cheese LOOKED good but not ONE person in our crew ate any more past the first bite. Hubby said he could taste every chemical in that yellow-orange pasta, a color best left for Crayola. The teens joked the marquis should be modified from “Great Food” to “Food.” With a common enemy, bad food, The Teens opened up, seemingly less teenager-y.

FAT SUNDAY

Our last meal on the coast was a good old-fashioned breakfast at Pig And A Pancake. We loaded up on buttermilk pancakes, bacon and eggs, as our next stop was Ashland—five hours away. Finally, after three days of eating together, I could talk so the boys would listen, at least with kinder eyes, albeit skeptical. We talked running since I ran the 400 in high school, a break through! “Yeah, I’ve spent my fair share around the track.”  Hubby made the cool cut with just a t-shirt. “I noticed your Foo-Fighters t-shirt,” one reached out to him. What? You don’t want to talk about my comfy Lululemon studio pants, prefect for travel?

Siren Call: “Eat lunch here!”

Teens. Boys. Teens.

Ambiance: Priceless.

In Ashland, we parked in front of a babbling brook and knew we had to dine alfresco. It was like a scene out of Little House On the Prairie, so perfectly dappled in sunlight and the water flowing flawlessly around the big boulders, not too rough or splashy. An Asian restaurant, Seasame, just down the street packed up a swanky take-out meal of pulled pork Korean tacos, spicy cashew chicken and ono bahn mi. On the rocks, we dined and relaxed. The Teens became boys and caught a baby fish in the stream. We were fat and happy, ready for the last stretch.

Overall, I think the trip was a success. The Teens were being teens; they were not there for me.  The guys got a three-night slumber party and savored their independence. My son was never bored and I never felt guilty being with my family. We got to eat and eat and eat, most of the way, trying new foods good and bad.  Mission complete–except maybe that Bingo thing.