Eric Clapton ended up being an unexpected theme for a recent weekend trip to Vancouver. “Are you here for the concert?” the hotel clerks were asking as folks checked in Friday afternoon. Our friends who arrived after us were told that some tickets had just been released and did they want a pair at $500 a pop? No thanks, we had serious dinner plans that evening. And that’s about what we were going to spend on it.

We learned in this past year that our friends Trish and David Gelles (owners of the celebrated Klipsun Vineyards on Red Mountain in eastern Washington) have a wedding anniversary just five days from ours. It seemed reason enough to plan a trip to Vancouver together to celebrate. We stayed not at one of the plush or hip hotels in town, instead a nostalgic return to the Blue Horizon; Bob and my first and only visit previous was during college, now we’re old married people over 20 years later. The price was right, the location central (on bustling Robson Street) and from our 29th-floor room, we had a sweeping view that included a corner of Stanley Park, much of downtown and off to English Bay. Pure Vancouver.

It poured rain (I came home with new cute rain boots), but we still did tons of walking around town, shopping, visiting with friends and plenty of eating (which began with drinks with Cate Simpson at George, and ended with dim sum with Nathan Fong at Sun Sui Wah – perfect bookends for the weekend!). Trish and I happened upon this wacky VW Beetle on Robson, complete with a working water fountain on the hood. Saturday we spent a chunk of time on Main Street, an up-and-coming area with a smattering of new restaurants and mod clothes shops (many of which feature hip Canadian designers). On a previous trip I’d eaten at Aurora Bistro, which was very good, market-driven regional Canadian in scope. This time, we brunched at the newer Crave, tiny and busy. Chef Wayne Martin put in a number of years with Four Seasons Hotels, trading in corporate life to become his own boss. He sure seemed happy about the change when we chatted. We’ll be back to try the apparently amazing burger on another trip.

That first night’s dinner was at Tojo’s, the revered bastion of top-quality Japanese cuisine in the Northwest (if not beyond). For 18 years, Tojo’s was in a very nondescript, boxy, low-ceilinged location on the second floor of a commercial block (above an A&W no less). Outstanding food prepared in an unlikely setting – but that’s nothing new. Imagine all the great hole-in-a-wall gems out there. Earlier this year Tojo moved into new digs just down the road on Broadway. Vast open space, big exposed kitchen, high ceilings, beautiful wood-framed booths, a big sake bar, larger sushi bar – it’s definitely the big-time for Tojo’s. The master has his hands full with so much more space. We reserved at the sushi bar, which here means an omikase meal: a prix-fixe chef’s surprise of multiple courses. His house roll was pretty amazing: Dungeness crab, salmon, scallop and shrimp wrapped in a feather-light sheet of egg. And the simple, split-and-broiled king crab legs were succulent, delicious. Dinner was very good, expensive ($120/person before drinks, tax, etc.) and in a stylish, lovely room. We’ll certainly go back. Still, I secretly kind of miss the old Tojo’s.

Partway through dinner, maybe 9:30 or so, we noticed Tojo and his chefs prepping a huge quantity of sushi rolls, packaging them up on disposable trays. Didn’t seem right, he wouldn’t make sushi in advance for any reason. What gives? Eventually Tojo came over to explain. It was for Eric Clapton and his entourage. Seems Tojo is a favorite caterer to rock and roll stars who come through town. We offered to deliver the goods for him. He either didn’t quite understand what we were offering, or didn’t think it was funny. Hard to tell with Tojo.

A Hood Canal friend turned me on to Annas Bay last summer, when the new Union-based music festival was about to hold a Seattle introductory recital. I was hooked right off the bat. I grew up studying piano, which invariably means playing classical pieces. I have maybe a couple dozen CDs of Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Mussorgsky, but we’re sort of acquaintances rather than fast friends. I also grew up going to a time-share condo about 1/2 mile from the Elmer and Katharine Nordstrom Hall home base of Annas Bay, so I just had to check it out. (Note, the Alderbrook Inn is a stone's throw, very convenient for out-of-towner visits.)

The focus of Annas Bay is all about making world-class music accessible to a broad audience of listeners--not just paying attendees, but also school children, adults who want to join a community choir and others. And it's not all “traditional” classical music at that. You’ll find jazz, folk, Tango, big band, modern, a dynamic range of genres featured in their programming. I attended a couple evenings’ of last year’s innagural season. Appropriate to the Julia Child mention earlier, they staged Bon Appétit, a short opera using libretto from a 1961 episode of her cooking show, in which she makes a chocolate cake. Priceless.

Check out the Annas Bay web site for more details. And you can read more about Annas Bay in the April issue of Seattle Magazine, in which I wrote a profile of the music festival. Oh, and that happens to be the big restaurant issue as well, to which I contributed. It’s like old home week.

Despite my best efforts to stay on top of Seattle’s dining scene, sometimes I’m late to the game. Elemental on the north edge of Lake Union is one of those much-talked-about places that I have only recently tried for myself. Everything I’d heard and read about Elemental was intriguing: the “this is no average restaurant” attitude, the surprise and decidedly non-mainstream beverage service, the tiny room that fills up quick, the dining experience that—overall—some find simply too unorthodox to enjoy. But 97% of feedback was glowing; only a few glowering reactions.

It was a Tuesday night and four of us met there shortly after the 5:00 opening, scoring one of the handful of four-tops. I was there first and the owner, Phred, gave me some reading material to keep me company. A recent issue of Gourmet magazine and a small book of short stories. I wish I could remember the name, something about cocktails and cigarettes and life’s other decadences (It wasn’t Drinking, Smoking & Screwing, I already own that one). I thought, wow, this guy’s got me pegged already. Scary.

As my mealtime cohorts showed up, he brought tiny glasses of fino sherry as the starter-gun of the marathon. Soon a basket of popcorn adorned with truffle salt showed up, which we accompanied with cocktails.

We were a hard-core food and wine quartet, so told Phred that we’d be sharing all our dishes in a sort of “just put them down anywhere” comment. He decided to offer us a multi-course meal instead, each of the four starters—lentil soup with smoked trout, lamb tartar, pheasant ravioli and arugula/chickpea salad—showing up solo, followed by a parade of the entrees. I think we all agreed our favorite was the espresso roasted duck, deep mahogany and deeply flavored. Not that the mushroom paella (served in a small cast iron skillet, with bright peas for contrast), seafood pot au feu nor pork in curry sauce were slacker dishes, just less distinctive.

It was hard to keep up with the wine selections, something new with every course; it really added up given our 8+ course meal! An Auxerrois from we don’t know where, Hurricane Ridge merlot, Mutt's Nuts shiraz from Australia, a Tasmanian pinot noir. One of the surprises was a California chardonnay, both for its ostensible mainstreamness but also for how un-California chardonnay it was—delicious. Notes get fuzzy after that. It was a lot of wine.

Oh, and did I mention this was a Tuesday night? It was hard work (almost forgot, our farewell sip was of reposado tequila) but outstanding. I’d go back in a heartbeat. And this time not mention the “we’ll be sharing our dishes” thing, so to be home before midnight!

I don’t remember the last time I was in training for anything. But I am now. I went on my first training walk for the Breast Cancer 3-Day this past weekend. It was quite an eye-opener to how much stamina I need to build up before September, when I’ll be walking 60 miles in three days.

Saturday’s walk was great, about 8 1/2 miles roundtrip on West Seattle’s Longfellow Creek Trail. Everyone else in the small troupe was from a 3-Day walking team, Babes for Boobs, which I’m planning to join for moral and training support. They assure me that under their tutelage (most have done the walk at least a few times, some 6 or 7) I’ll cross the finish line in fine form. It was a great morning of camaraderie, conversation and focus, a nibble, I imagine, of what the three day experience will be like.

A few thousand people are anticipated for Seattle’s walk this year, just one of 12 being held around the country. Each of us walkers is expected to raise at lease $2,200, which will add up to a big number with lots of zeros. Proceeds benefit Susan G. Koman For the Cure and National Philanthropic Trust Breast Cancer Fund. Any and all donations will be most appreciated, I’m secretly hoping I might even make it to $3,000 for my part. You can link to my fundraising site here.

With the annual Oyster Olym -- oops, that was close, they had to change the name this year to Oyster Games and Shuckers Ball because of a little “cease and desist” from the US Olympics Committee. What a bunch of goofballs. Anyway, the big annual fundraiser for Puget Soundkeeper Alliance was last week, so I thought an oyster recipe might be in order. This tasty treat is from my Northwest Best Places Cookbook, Volume 2, this recipe sourced from The Place Bar & Grill in Friday Harbor on San Juan Island. Enjoy.