Sometimes this city of mine is almost a parody of itself. For example, a few days ago I was walking home from a meeting of the Fireside writing group, and I came across a vendor selling fresh-made chevre (goat cheese) ice cream with habenero jam from a street cart. And they were offering free samples of course. Other flavors included sweet summer corn in buttermilk sherbet, and honey strawberry balsamic with cracked pepper.
Yes, these are actual flavors of ice cream.
Saying this city has a foodie culture is almost like remarking that the beach has sand. It's such pervasive part of the environment that it's hard to escape sometimes. Especially when nearly every public space is occupied by some sort of farmers market on Saturdays and often on Wednesdays.
Then there is the home pickling and making of sausages. In downtown and East Portland you could be forgiven for thinking that we are still living in the Gilded Age going by beards or how many people are into brining vegetables and curing meat.