SHOOTER'S TOUCH: Grampa Simpson Goes to Rome

The Fourth of July is a day to honor America's everyday heroes -- like Abraham "Grampa" Simpson, for instance. He's a war veteran. He eats the same mashed food as his baby granddaughter. And, well, he managed to raise one of our country's most easily identifiable cultural icons.

We'll honor him this Independence Day with a photo of his likeness that was taken at the Colosseum in Rome in 2008:

Who's more American than Grampa Simpson?

Happy Fourth! I'll leave you with a piece of classic Grampa dialogue from a 1993 episode called "The Front": [writing a letter] "Dear Mr. President, there are too many states these days. Please eliminate three. I am NOT a crackpot."

Which three? I'm sure they're in Grampa's will.

PATTY DOWN: Burgerville

Name: Burgerville
Location: 3432 SE 25th Ave., Portland, OR 97202 (map)
Website: www.burgerville.com
Twitter: @BurgervilleUSA

A fast-food chain -- with compost bins?

It sounds strange, yes, but these Pacific Northwest hot spots serve their meals with a side of sustainability and an extra helping of everything else you probably wouldn't expect at a drive-through diner.

The food is fresh. The meat is hormone-free. Many of the ingredients are locally grown. The chain's slogan -- "Fresh, Local, Sustainable" -- is emblazoned on in-store merchandise. It almost feels uncomfortable at first, as if these two worlds were meant to be mutually exclusive. Sit down with a Colossal hamburger, fries and vanilla shake at Burgerville, though, and ... hey, no wonder this place has been around for 50 years.
 

Colossal Burger, fries and vanilla shake at Burgerville

The burger is served with lettuce, tomatoes and pickles as well as ketchup on one side of the sesame seed bun and the restaurant's special sauce -- likely some combination of mayonnaise, mustard and diced pickles -- on the other. It was a nice touch on an otherwise straightforward sandwich (one that loosely resembled an onion-less and gastronomically lighter version of the Whopper at Burger King).

Burgerville is often compared to In-N-Out, the California-based chain known for its cleanliness, tastiness and simplicity. I would probably choose Burgerville's fries over In-N-Out's; they're plumper, firmer and not quite as salty. The shakes are similar in that upgrading your soda to a rich, cold treat is a wise move at both establishments. (For what it's worth, there's something about In-N-Out's burger that, at least for me, would give it the nod in a comprehensive showdown.)

One thing that might give Burgerville a few bonus points, however, is its rotating cycle of seasonal specialty items: fried asparagus spears, fresh strawberry shortcake and Oreo mint sundaes, to name a few. And to think -- "asparagus at a fast-food restaurant" was once used as a synonym for "flying pig." Perhaps pigs fly now?

Nutritional information on the Burgerville receipt

Speaking of pigs ... The discourse on obesity in the United States, it seems, always centers around the evils of fast food. Burgerville's solution: including your meal's nutritional information on your receipt, presumably to force you to evaluate your diet as your wait hungrily for your food. The lesson, apparently, is that "fresh" and "sustainable" should not be blindly associated with "healthy." Indeed, the receipt is an unintentionally quizzical marketing strategy because it ironically suggests, "You probably shouldn't be eating here."

Don't let the receipt spoil your meal, though. Just put it face-down on the table and throw it into the recycling bin on your way out. And remember: Almost all of the other remnants of your meal belong in the compost receptacle.

Even Towels Can't Find Work in This Economy

The gym locker room is a fragile place, an intersection of the public and private domains and thus a potentially awkward setting for otherwise common activities.

Showering. Changing clothes. Looking in the mirror to make sure your eyes are still aligned properly.

Normal stuff.

It could be considered a hub of efficiency, and there's usually a certain standard of decorum that reigns in the locker room -- at least on the men's side, to make a gross generalization. Conversations, if they exist, are short. So are the showers. For whatever reason, that's usually how it goes.

But not everyone subscribes to these unwritten rules.

Case in point: After a 30-minute battle against the treadmill earlier this week, I walked into the locker room at a 24 Hour Fitness gym to use the bathroom. I then moved into the main room (where the sinks are) and found an elderly man standing in front of an electric hand dryer. His hands, however, were not under the air duct; they were holding a gray towel around his presumably unclothed waistline, creating a makeshift dormitory for his Congressman Anthony.

The situation induced mental head-scratching as I proceeded to wash my hands. There were six sinks, three soap dispensers and two hand dryers, meaning the one not being used by Dr. Breezy was suddenly a hot commodity. I rinsed hastily.

More striking than my own scenario, though, was the logistical conundrum: How could this behavior be considered acceptable? It wasn't just that this man was hogging the clean air -- he already had unimpeded access to a towel (which, despite our technological advances, is still considered a drying device)!

I felt kind of sad as I walked out of the locker room, hands mostly dry. The towel basically got laid off and still had to kiss its former employer's behind.

SHOOTER'S TOUCH: Piled Higher and Greener

A sample of what Portland is like when it isn't raining:

Cerf Amphitheatre at Reed College (photo by Jeff Goodman)

Laurelhurst Park in Southeast Portland (photo by Jeff Goodman)

Shooter's Touch is an ongoing series of cool photos. For other installments, click here.

The People in Portland Are Ridiculously Nice

Maybe it's because I've spent most of my life in Los Angeles -- the me-centric capital of the world -- but there's something about the way people interact in Portland that makes a transplant feel awkwardly unkind. A few examples on a list that undoubtedly will grow with time:

• Imagine a portrait of a stereotypical bus driver: gruff, annoyed, persistently unhappy and unforgiving. Then hop on a bus to the largest city in Oregon, where the caricature takes a wild turn. One afternoon at a major intersection in southeast Portland, a bus driver who had made a normal stop to pick up and drop off riders began pulling away from the curb for the green light. Just then, a young pedestrian darted toward the bus in a parallel crosswalk, hoping to catch it before its departure. In other cities, he would have waited for the next bus and blamed himself for being late. Not here. Here, the bus driver, instead of zooming into the distance, drove through the intersection, pulled toward the curb -- blocking a lane of traffic in the process -- and opened the front door as the young man raced back across the crosswalk to board. Just like that. It wasn't even sunny out.

• The gas station cashier doesn't just give you directions to a tricky freeway on-ramp. No, he walks around the counter and takes you outside, pointing precisely and smiling all the way. Like it was his job or something. Plus, the guys who fill your tank -- self-service gas pumping is illegal in Oregon -- are also friendly. They should all consider moving to L.A. -- they'd make great tips.

• Homeless people aren't exactly known for their friendliness. Written off as lazy misfits or unavoidable byproducts of metropolitan life, they are often greeted by pedestrians with uncomfortable neglect -- if not scorn. Adding to the list of sweeping generalizations ... Portland seems different when it comes to this dynamic. Although the issue persists in Portland, so too does the city's apparently undying warmth (figuratively speaking, of course). The homeless people offer "Hello" and "Good afternoon," even initiating pleasant conversation. Oh, and in some cases, good luck finding the Cup o' Change.

 Stop being so nice, Portland!

PATTY DOWN: Triple Rock Brewery & Alehouse

Name: Triple Rock Brewery & Alehouse
Location: 1920 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley, CA 94704 (map)
Website: www.triplerock.com
Twitter: @TripleRockBeer

Come for the beer. Stay for the burgers.

That's how Triple Rock could market itself, not that the brewpub really needs to advertise. Students and senior citizens alike crowd its classy wooden interior seemingly throughout the week, especially when the 8.0% alcohol-by-volume Monkey Head arboreal ale flows from dark bottles each Thursday night.

For all of its homemade beer and enjoyable ambiance, though, Triple Rock's third rock might be its food.

Mill Grinder burger at Triple Rock

When you start getting hungry, you don't have to leave to find a restaurant with quality grub. Just ask for a menu and order the Mill Grinder ($7.25), a half-pound hamburger served with lettuce, tomatoes, onions and a paper-thin layer of mayonnaise.

(Note: You're out another $1.50 if you want to replace house coleslaw with fries, which is a pretty ridiculous concept. Burgers come with fries. This is America. How about serving them standard at $8.75 and giving a $1.50 discount to patrons who choose to sneak around a longstanding cultural icon?)

The burger, although a tad undercooked on the inside for a "medium-well" meal, delivered on most fronts. It tasted fresh, didn't fall apart with toppings heaped above it and was large enough for Triple Rock to serve it with a fork and knife. (As usual, those went unused.) It hit the proverbial spot.

The downsides were found in the details. The fries, nonetheless worth the $1.50 upgrade, were somewhat overcooked and slightly too salty. They actually did well on the burger (as they almost always do), where the salt seemed to fade into the rest of the flavors. Also, what good is a pickle wedge to a burger plate? Its presence put me in a pickle about what to do with it. For what it's worth, it should've been sliced into disks for convenient stacking or omitted entirely.

Triple Rock, apparently one of the country's first brewpubs, surely can thank its food for some of its longevity. And while a markedly better burger at Barney's is just five blocks away, a hand-crafted beer is within arm's reach here ... or should be, anyway.

Patty Down is an ongoing series of burger reviews. For other installments, click here.

SHOOTER'S TOUCH: Rockin' in the Tree World

Tilden Regional Park

If Berkeley wore a tall and flowery hat, it would be called Tilden Regional Park.

Perched in the mountains just north of the bustling University of California hub, the sprawling expanse of nature provides visitors with beautiful views of the Bay Area and a welcomed sense of short-term separation from the urban world below.

A day trip to the park is on the bucket list of many Cal students, who somehow manage to neglect the opportunities there -- hiking, biking, horseback riding and springtime picnicking, among others -- despite their proximity to the 2,079-acre reserve.

Tilden, however, isn't some sort of town secret. Tourists and residents in the region can be found enjoying the space in harmony. Cyclists, joggers and dog-walkers share the numerous trails, including the Nimitz Way path (pictured) that starts at Inspiration Point.

A leisurely stroll offered the accompanying landscape, a well-blazed trail paralleled by a path of sunlight above. The balance, shadow patterns and dominating greenery made this a memorable image -- even with a point-and-shoot digital camera.

So, saunter through the park and soak in the scenery -- it's free. Just don't forget a camera, a friend or three, some PB&J sandwiches and, even if there's some cloud cover, a hat.

Amble on!

Shooter's Touch is an ongoing series of cool photos. For other installments, click here.