Last night around 5:30 we fancied eating out. Living in NW, the options are fairly diverse, but I'm picky when I want to be, and so...we began by ruling out the Taste of Jakarta on SW 12th and Jefferson, not because it's not incredible, but because we've eaten there, like, every other meal since it opened. I called Pok Pok on the East Side, because I figured I still maybe wanted Asian food, even if it meant getting a Zipcar, but they were closed for two weeks for annual cleaning, and the Malay Satay Hut on 82nd has also been somewhat overdone by the Davis household over the last six months. So we thought we'd take a walk down to Clyde Common, but without any obvious warning on their website, they were closed for a private party. DANG.

Using the Ace Hotel's internet (also bookmarking the Portland Mercury's site on their Safari, lucky for their guests!) I got the number for Piazza Italia, a reliable Italian in the Pearl. Calling at 6pm, they didn't have any tables free until 8:15.

"No, we'd like to eat before then," I said, somewhat frustrated, but realizing it's vital to make a reservation in this town if you want to eat anywhere on a Sunday night. With many of the restaurants closed, I guess a bunch of people go to the reliable and popular open ones.

So we walked down to the Pearl with the idea of going to Hotlips, looked in the window of Sungari Pearl, realized I still wanted something Asian but that I didn't want to pay the upscale price of one of their entrees, and ended up at Sinju Sushi, where the dynamite roll was fabulous, but thanks to having trudged all over Portland, I wasn't really in the mood any more.

Afterwards, fancying a spot of dessert, I looked in the window of Stumptown under the Ace, where they'd run out of cookies, so I went into Kenny and Zuke's next door, and paid $6.75 for a slice of cheesecake. To go.

"That can't be right," said the server, ringing it up, and checking with a co-worker.

"It's right," she said.

"$6.75 for a slice of cheesecake?" I asked. Still, somewhat unsure of my ability to maintain a reasonable tone, I decided to pay it and take whatever lesson the Lord had set aside for me last night, right up the botty:

GRAINY CELLPHONE PICTURE: SHOWS CHEESECAKE...

The cheesecake was good. But at a dollar a bite, I don't think it was that good. And my point is, perhaps, broader, in that it would be nice if Portland's restaurants could realize that there's a booming market for Sunday night dining, if only they'd put more effort into providing it. Until that happens I'll be up in my apartment, watching The Wire, eating homemade borscht while my checking account acquires interest that could be spent on "choosing local."