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Tuesday, 14 October 2014

ASTORIA: first Cruise Port

Long boardwalk over trolley tracks along the river.  

Finnish settlement?

Note for a possible future visit:  The Holiday Express looks good and there are outside tables for a coffee looking out onto the water.  

The old Cannery Inn behind Diana:  even better.

Surprise attraction:  large Farmer’s Market:  One stall offered tastings of bakings:  their macaroons were outstanding!
These jams, jellies, and fruit butters were AWESOME!  Especially the
Cherry Jalapeno Jam.

Daisy Drina Bosnian Restaurant

The AAA guide’s entry had me, as they say, at Hello.  The clincher was “authentic Bosnian food at this hospitable restaurant where the owners cook and serve”.  So no way was I going back to the ship without at least checking out the menu.

Diana & I went inside and asked for menus.  The rusty-haired, black clad guy behind the counter seemed authentic enough, especially when he growled, “You having lunch?” as he proffered a couple of long sheets. 
 “We’re thinking about it,” I responded, brightly.  
Sheets instantly retracted.  “You’re thinking about it or you’re eating?”
“Well, we’d like to see menus.”
In comes Nestor.  “Well, if we’re doing this . . .?”

By this time, I’ve seen Bourek on the menu.  Yes!

We order.  Rusty plunks down some bread. 

            “Is this your place?” I ask him.

            He reacts with horror.  “What?!? No!  Why would I do that?  Bosnian is too much work!”  Off he went, shaking his head.

Diana ordered salad.  Too heavy on goat cheese.

The sausage on Nestor’s cold plate was sour and tasty.

Bryan’s sorda or sorma? (cabbage rolls were good in spite of mushy exteriors)

I also ordered the Kafa.  Rusty actually explained the ritual.  First, you drink the cleansing water.  Then take a sugar cube out of the domed dish and pour the coffee over it.  A little shortbread cookie comes along, too!

“This is so interesting,” I said.
“Not to Bosnians,” was the reply.

While we were there, a horde of young Bosnians troop in.  An attractive, middle-aged, black clad woman appears. The chatter is fast and slavonic-sounding.  Tables are pushed together in a long line.  Crew from the Norwegian Jewel!
Too many to all fit at the long table.   Better luck next time! 

Sadly, few passengers ever make their way to the delightful Drina Daisy.