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Food:
Activist
Art
My House, the basement venue opened a year and a half ago in a house on West 5th Avenue to give performance space to underrepresented art, is closing down. But not without a bang. This Sunday, under the Washington Jefferson Bridge, "ASUPERHAPPYFUNDAYINTHEPARK" is planned from 3 to 11 pm to showcase the art, artists, poetry, music and film — especially film — that has sprung up outside the Northwest's mainstream arts culture. "Our space is about community," says My House co-founder Marc Moscato, who's just wrapped up his masters degree in arts administration, and, like other My House founders, is moving on. Although people in the collective have come and gone, a few artists and events connected with the group are well known. Sean Mediaclast, curator for the Museum of Unfine Art, has performed music for some of the avant-garde film shown at the basement space, and My House organized the No War Art Show, which drew more than 600 attendees in March. "We live in a unique community, and we wanted to celebrate the creativity of it," says Moscato. When he moved here a few years ago, Moscato was dismayed at the lack of venues for self-expressive art. So he turned his basement into one. My House held self-published zine readings, film screenings, music, scratch animation workshops, punk rock shows and many other types of activities. Never once did neighbors complain of noise or did organizers have any trouble with police, says Moscato. The space was about creating art. Period. "The unifying characteristic of all the artists we have worked with is that they are interested in doing things outside the realm of capital," says Moscato. For example, some musicians would rather perform in the park for free than support the commercial enterprise of a venue. In addition, many clubs are for ages 21 and over, which imposes limits on the performers' audience. "There aren't many places people can congregate free of crass commercialism," says Moscato, "not a lot of places where people can come together and talk or share. We do a lot of folk art and sharing stories; it's a new form of uncensored self-expression." But now that My House is closing, Moscato hopes that others will pick up the baton and run with it. He hopes the mission has encouraged other young people to "take control over their lives and their art" and to realize they have the power to achieve whatever they want. "It doesn't have to happen in an institution," he insists. "We did this with no budget, no government grants, and no memberships, but we supported this vibrant community of well-recognized artists who have had shows in big centers." Some of those artists include musicians and poets. Seattle's the Urban Hermitt will perform on Sunday, along with folk singer Dennis Driscoll, art rockers Old Relijun and many others. Others in attendance will be some of the many filmmakers who've held screenings at My House and the Sunday show will conclude with a mini-film fest of sorts. Beginning at 9:30 pm, hand-cranked film by Lee Krist with live music by Mediaclast will be shown, followed by a slideshow and film shorts from Olympia Film Ranch and the evening will conclude with a My House film retrospective beginning at 10:30 pm with works by Sandra Lea Gibson, Paolo Davanzo, Jim Finn and others. A full schedule of events can be found at www.notmyhouse.com
Ambrosia For me, as for many Eugeneans, coming back to Ambrosia is like coming back to a little bit of home. Much of it seems the same – warm, cozy, welcoming – but some aspects feel strange. I have changed, but I can still sense the bond between the then and the now.
In 1986, when Ambrosia opened its doors, I was part of her management (floor manager) but I talked the owners — Frank Ernandes, Zareh Marashlian, Armen Kevrekian — into allowing me to develop the restaurant's wine cellar and wine list. I promised that if they'd let me spend a bucketful of their money, Ambrosia would offer a wine list that would gain national publicity with an Award of Excellence from the widely read Wine Spectator. They agreed, and I went into their pockets up to my elbows, buying like a fiend. The Award of Excellence soon followed; the pattern was set, and the awards have come each year for 13 years. When I come back, I scan the wines first: The list is still strong, still stressing Italian wines (for the food), Northwest (for our region) and California (neighborliness). Still major bargains in vintage ports. Then I look around, eye the old brick walls, absorb the heart-warmth of lovely antique tables, chairs, and lamps under the white, stamped-tin roof. Check stairs I ran a thousand times to upper-level tables. The huge, hand-carved bar and back-bar still stun me, imagining their long ship-borne trip in the late 19th century, from the East Coast, around the tip of Tierra del Fuego, landing at last on the West Coast, coming to rest in Oregon, here. Across from the bar, in an open kitchen, the dark brick front of the wood-fired oven winks with one hot-red eye; aromas of baking pizzas and calzones suffuse the air. Everywhere plants, everywhere art, Italian pottery, the lively clutter of a beloved homestead. I met my wife, the beautiful Kat, in this place; our first dinner date we sat at Table One, Section One. I carried our youngest daughter, Dana, still in diapers, through the kitchen. Waves of memories roll through my mind, wash up behind my eyes. So much of Ambrosia is still top-shelf: The food is still consistently excellent, because the two main chefs who opened the place are still cooking. Chef Dave Proctor anchors the night kitchen; he came over from Excelsior, brought high skills and an almost magical touch with fresh fish, especially halibut (omigod). Chef Amedee Smith still cooks the lunches; he, too, came from Excelsior, brought strength, speed, imagination, a deft feel for pastas. Both cherish food with flavor, color, texture. Both demand the finest ingredients. Amedee says, "The spirit is good." Both are smart and funny and twisted in peculiar ways (Amedee is a published poet — 'nuff said; Doc Proc, as we call him, is one of this area's most skilled Alfa Romeo mechanics, got shoulders on him like a couple of beer kegs). Desserts are crafted by Jan Wooley and Linda Spear, so talented, Jan also from (uh-huh) Excelsior; their pastries are pleasing to the eye, simple but intensely flavorful, in the Italian style. But Ambrosia is also changing in these changing times. Long-time General Manager Clive Wanstall has moved on to Lane Community College; Amedee Smith has taken overall management duties. Owner/partner Armen Kevrekian will focus on wine while Frank Ernandes — a genuine gentleman and proud Italian — steps in as managing partner. Zareh Marashlian is busy with Portland's exotic Touché (fine food, pool and billiards in the Pearl). One of Mr. Ernandes's first moves has been to reduce prices on key menu items (and wines), to make the menu more accessible to families and young people who have always been the target clientele. Popular Spaghetti alla Bolognese, for example, will be priced at $9.50. Wood oven-cooked pizzas and calzones range from $7.50-$10.95. The lunch menu offers an Ambrosia Burger with jalapeño jack cheese and spicy mustard for $7.95; every day, the kitchen roasts a fresh bird for the turkey sandwich. On Sunday and Monday nights, talented new Chef Ico "Jimmy" Hiatt prepares special Italian-style three-course dinners — this week, Beer-poached clams in hefeweizen-butter sauce, then wild mushroom ravioli tossed in browned butter w/ lemon and parsley, entree choice of pork chop w/ pomegranate bourbon sauce or salmon w/ cucumber dill sour cream sauce, all for $16, a yard-sale price. In Eugene, any restaurant that manages to thrive for nearly 17 years deserves the sobriquet "venerable," but this elegant lady gains charm with age. She feels less upscale, more upbeat, still delivers Old World style and quality but with New World pizzazz, like the folks pumped up the house when the kids left for college. Frank Ernandes is passionate about Ambrosia's goals: "We strive to combine two great arts, the art of wine and the art of food, to create one of life's greatest pleasures." Feels so nice to come home to.
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