If you really want to commit to being a foodie—come on now, you're already reading our food issue—there are two distinct paths to gourmet nirvana. There's the traditional route, involving international travel to seek out the most authentic and distinct worldly cuisines, home cooking from encyclopedic cookbooks that have only recently been translated to English, and reservations at domestic establishments whose menus will expand your palate.

Then there's the local option. Pioneered by people like chef Alice Waters, and recently given trendy status by the likes of Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon—a Vancouver, BC couple who spent a year eating only things they could find within 100 miles of their home—the "eat local" movement has even spawned the name "locavore" for its followers.

The idea of eating locally is an international one: To overly generalize, Americans love to borrow other countries' cuisines—and fancy ourselves thoroughly modern when we can stock Iowan grocery bins with Florida oranges in January—while Italians are renowned for eating what was grown down the road. But despite the plethora of locally produced food to choose from in the Northwest, eating locally might prevent you from developing a connoisseur's understanding of Italian cuisine.

What's a foodie to do?

While this isn't exactly a decision you need King Solomon's help to make, there are drawbacks to both philosophies: A devoted locavore—someone who believes that eating locally is not only good for their community's vibrancy and economy, but also lands the freshest (and therefore healthiest) food onto your plate (while also cutting back on the oil burned to move food around)—can't enjoy a curry dish unless it's served in India. Curry leaves and the spices in curry powders don't grow in Oregon.

And likewise, someone on a quest to taste all the food the world has to offer has to stock the pantry with items from far beyond a 100-mile radius of their home. While Oregon is internationally known for some of our food, like marionberries, pinot noir, and hazelnuts, most of the gourmet chef's ingredients have to be outsourced. Even basics like coffee, tea, and salt are international imports.

Living in Portland, however, presents the foodie with extenuating circumstances that might help you wiggle out of this awful conundrum. The New York Times—in a September 26 paean to our dining scene—pointed out that nearly every notable chef in town has a kitchen "constructed according to the gospel of locally grown ingredients." Those same kitchens, however, are crafting food that's putting us on the international foodie map, thanks to Oregon's bountiful array of local ingredients. (I did the "100-mile diet challenge" for a week this past spring, and ate better than I ever have, with help from the farmers' market. I can't imagine a city where eating locally could be easier or more delicious. Except in Italy.)

Meanwhile, even chefs striving for an authentic international experience, like Pok Pok's Andy Ricker, seem to have figured out how to walk the line between sophisticated global palates and sustainably minded ethics. In his quest for Thai authenticity, he'll have across-the-Pacific staples like papaya and coconut in the same salad as shredded pork from Carlton Farms (a farm less than 40 miles from Pok Pok's SE Division location).

Other Portland food purveyors are contorting the dichotomy. Coffee may not be locally grown, but Stumptown's about as PDX as you can get. A store like N Mississippi's The Meadow—which has devoted almost every square foot of retail space to salt and chocolate, two mostly non-local gourmet treats—is the sort of shop you aren't likely to find in other cities.

So count yourself lucky, Portland foodies—you may not have to choose. (Whew, that was a close one!) While we may not be purists, we have the best of both local and the world.