Mucking About Winter hikes and U-cuts: defying reality at Fall Creek. By Tom Dishman A key figure of the Enlightenment, 18th century British philosopher and empiricist David Hume, wanted to investigate simple ideas to see if they had been compounded in ways that didn't correspond to reality. Some examples might be angels (humans with wings), heaven (pearly gates, streets of gold), Christmas trees (a dead evergreen in a living room) or winter hikes in Oregon (willful exposure to cold, wet, mud). Ever enlightened, I took it upon myself to explore the latter two. Like so many others, this saga begins with a need. Our family has an unwritten code that prescribes getting a different kind of tree each year. We've done the U-pick-N-cut at an organic farm. We've benefited the Boy Scouts at the Oakway Albertson's and enriched the coffers of Johnson Brothers nursery. We've helped to thin out friend Carl's new pasture. But this year, owing to the presidential standoff, a sobering awareness of the environmental impact of the tree industry, and the obscenely huge box office of the loathsome How the Grinch Stole Christmas, we were mired in a holiday torpor. Aside from a romantically criminal fantasy of capping one of the good-looking firs from the UO campus in a midnight raid, I was uninspired. Then, I heard about wild trees. A coworker told me you can fell your own from the ultimate u-cut: the U.S. Forest Service. Great selection. The lowest prices. Millions to choose from. Your choice, $5. While it's not exactly conservationism, it also doesn't really hurt anything, as most of these kinds of trees, like the hairs on my scalp, are destined for thinning. Christmas tree permits are available for U.S.F.S. lands in McKenzie Bridge, Oakridge, Cottage Grove, and other places. We decided on Fall Creek and set aside three hours. Big mistake. With 25 trails, a beautiful stream, deep pools, stunning trees, and transient winter solitude, you could spend days. If you haven't been to Fall Creek, take route 58 toward Oakridge; turn left toward Lowell. Follow Jasper-Lowell Road for 2 miles to the Unity Covered Bridge. Turn right on Big Fall Creek Road. The recreation area is 11 miles east, and as you enter it becomes Forest Road 18. As for winter hikes, the classic is the low-elevation National Recreation trail, which follows Fall Creek for more than 13 miles over the river and through the woods: old-growth forest and ferns, side trails and streams, blankets of leaves, populous mushrooms. A drop or two of rain sneaks through the canopy; showers dance on the stream below. You can get a more vigorous workout on the Clark Butte trail, which ascends 1,400 feet to an overgrown viewpoint. It's about 5 miles round trip, beginning at the Clark Creek Nature Trail 2.5 miles inside the forest. To see what a Christmas Tree farm would look like if you let it go unharvested for, say, 500 years, motor up to the Tall Timber Trail. The giants in this old-growth grove eerily disappear into the winter fog, enshrouded in perfect winter stillness. Find the trees and trail by turning left on Road 1817, soon after Road 18 crosses the creek. After 10 miles, turn left on 1806 for 3 more miles, then left on Road 427 for a half mile. Look for the trailhead on the left. Coming back down off Saddleblanket Mountain, our own tree hunt came to a close. We spotted a perky 8-foot grand fir. After thanking the tree and mother Earth, we sawed it down, according to regulations -- 6 inches from the ground, no live limbs left at the base. It's home now, cut to size, and fed with sugar and vitamin C. A wild tree that small is much more delicate than one from the lot, not having been pruned and sculpted according to the commercial ideal. We've used ornaments sparingly and it has tipped over twice. Having grown up on a hillside, it's probably disoriented by the nearly level floor of our living room. All lit up with presents beneath, the tree has helped to snap me nearly completely out of the pre-holiday stupor. But I'll admit it: I'm still tempted to raid campus as a late night lumberjack. I'm sure Hume would disapprove. For a Fall Creek winter hike, bring boots, gloves, rainwear, treats, a Thermos of something hot, a Forest Service district map, and a willingness to get muddy. If you're going for a tree, you'll need a saw or hatchet, a $5 permit (available from ranger offices in Eugene or at the districts), and a way to strap it your car. Born to Cook Bruno and Bessie draw a crowd of regulars. By Jule Wind Bessie and Tommy "Bruno" Bollag of Chef's Kitchen. . Serious gourmands willing to give up atmosphere for sumptuous sauces over fabulous food already dine at the Chef's Kitchen in south Eugene. This restaurant is small and intimate, quirky and cute, not advertised, not well-known, and almost always crowded. Regulars receive daily menus by fax so they can drive by the take-out window. Dedicated diners who want to eat in cheerfully cramp into one of the 11 tables or even sit at a counter to eat authentic French cuisine by a master chef trained in the lineage of the grand master Auguste Escoffier. Amazingly, for such divine food, prices range from $10 to $19, about average for fine-dining in this area. Tommy "Bruno" and Bessie Bollag perform their magic act five days a week in this tiny building tucked away in an alcove between the Dairy Mart and the Jiffy Mart on south Hilyard Street. Beautiful Bessie waits on each table herself, beaming sunlight on new and old customers. Looking about the age of one of her six children, she recalls every name and conversation for each customer. She feeds diners' spirits while Tommy feeds their bodies his love of food. This is not McDonald's where you get to have anything your own way. Tommy is a veritable lion of culinary creativity working out of a narrow kitchen behind a hanging tether ball once signed by Wolfgang Puck. Customers rarely see him except as a glimpse of well-filled out Hawaiian shirt and a round face with white beard and dark expressive eyebrows that jump up and down. The old adage holds here: Never trust a skinny chef. It seems that Tommy was born to cook, with an Italian Catholic mother and a Swiss Jewish father who was master chef for California's Villa Chartier and L'Auberge. At age 13 his father decided to take him on as an apprentice earning 50 cents an hour. He seasoned soup, washed dishes and cut vegies. At age 15, he began to cook. At age 17 he filled in for his father, and finally was deemed ready for even more serious training. That training happened in Switzerland at the Grand Hotel Baur au Lac in Zurich, stomping grounds for Sophia Loren, Sean Connery and other such celebrity diners. Tommy was one of 40 chefs under Lucien Garcin, who had been trained by the father of modern French cuisine. It was Escoffier who first set the standards, who decreed that Rossini sauces must have pate foi gras and Madeira. One of my favorite entrees is the Filet Roti Rossini, a melt-in-your mouth meal for $18.95. Tommy catapulted well beyond his Swiss and French masters. His creations include a Gnocchi Tartufi with white truffle sauce ($6.95) that my daughter always orders, a Halibut with Plum Sauce ($14.95) that is indescribable and a Ahi Yamangucci with mango puree/ginger shallot/sherry soy sauce for $15.95. Much of the magic is in the sauces, of course. Imagine your taste buds lighting up with "plum-sake duck sauce" or "kiwi-lime rum sauce" or "light-cream shallot/garlic/parsley lemon sauce, topped with parmesan." Each menu is laced with linguistic and culinary jokes and poetry, mainly for Tommy's amusement although he is pleased if customers notice. Sometimes he puts in mistakes just to see if anyone catches them. These stacks of menus are his oeuvre, his book project to complete when he can no longer stand on his feet to feed people. Like many Eugeneans, Tommy and Bessie didn't follow a straight line to their passion. Tommy had to get a college degree, try hotel management and work in restaurants. His first solo effort was Bruno's Bistro, which became Chantrelle. He had to fall in love with Bessie, shed old destructive habits and unify his family before he could put together this perfect place in 1994. Life never stands still, and changes are afoot. Tommy and Bessie started small on borrowed money and donated equipment, using disposable plates and plastic silverware. In the beginning diners had to BYOB. Now success has the Bollags reaching for a bigger place downtown that would seat 100, add music to meals and maybe a place to dance. Bessie, a closet torch singer, might entertain on occasion. In the meanwhile, diners can count on the Chef's Kitchen continuing to serve delicious dinners each night. "I know what I've done here for the past seven years and how I've touched people," Tommy says. "I had a dream, a vision of cooking clean food from a protected valley that led to the sea, the source of all food. I have my team, myself and my wife and our children. I've reached my dream. Whatever comes next will be good." Bruno's Chef's Kitchen, at 3443 Hilyard St., serves only dinners Tuesdays through Saturdays, 5 pm to 9 pm. Appetizers and main dishes vary daily, salads, bread and desserts are extra. Wine and beer are served. Call 687-2433 for take out. Back to Top Table of Contents | News & Views | Arts & Entertainment Classifieds | Personals | EW Archive