Adam Richman is my favorite of all the TV food hosts. When I watched his shows Man v. Food and then Man v. Food Nation, he always seemed genuine to me, coming across as a real person rather than someone who was trying to turn himself into a brand.

And because (contrary to what some might think) I’m about more than just the sort of high-end fine dining that can be found at restaurants such as Boragó, Steirereck, and Alinea, I’ve followed in Richman’s footsteps whenever I can, which has led me to everything from the Triple Threat Pork sandwich at Slow’s BBQ in Detroit to the famous three-pound cinnamon roll at San Antonio’s Lulu’s Bakery & Cafe.

So when it came time for me to attend the World Horror Convention in Portland last weekend, I made sure to check out where Richman had gone before me. And on Saturday, that led to lunch at Big-Ass Sandwiches, which had been featured on the show Adam Richman’s Best Sandwich in America.

I walked a mile or so to the food truck with Claude Lalumière, making Big-Ass Sandwiches an extension of the World Horror Convention for that afternoon. And I of course ordered the sandwich that bore Adam Richman’s name—The Richwich, which consisted of slow-roasted beef, bacon and grilled onions onto a ciabatta roll with hand-cut fries, covered with homemade Bechamel cheese sauce. As you can see above, it was a helluva sandwich, and I can easily understand why it was voted “Best Sandwich in the Northwest” by The Travel Channel.

After I tweeted the above photo to Richman, he tweeted back that I should make sure to visit Voodoo Doughnuts while in town. The thing is, the previous night, Voodoo Donuts had sent its food truck to park outside the con hotel during the mass autograph session, and I had tried one and was … underwhelmed. Especially when compared to Blue Star Donuts, which I had visited 8:00 a.m. Saturday.

But since I felt it wasn’t fair to compare a fresh donut with one which had been sitting around in a food truck for several hours—and since Richman tweeted that I had to try the peaches and cream fritter—I knew I had to get to an actual Voodoo Doughnuts location. For who am I to disobey a direct order from Adam Richman?

But first, I had a different Man v. Food destination on the agenda—the Stepping Stone Cafe, known for its humongous mancakes. How humongous? So much so that when I placed my order early Sunday morning, I was warned by my waitress—that’s a heck of a lot of food! But, hey, that’s what Richman had ordered, and so I had to go there as well.

And as you can see, she was right! Good thing the Stepping Stone Cafe was three miles away from the con hotel, and that I walked there and back. I needed to earn those mancakes.

Don’t worry, I didn’t eat all of them. In fact, I barely made a dent, and brought back leftovers to distribute to bleary-eyed writers and editors who’d stayed up too late partying the previous night. And you know you’ve ordered a lot of food when the leftovers fill two boxes.

I was supposed to have been joined that morning by a couple of foodies from the con who had also planned to wake up early and beat the Mother’s Day rush, but they bailed on me, and shall remain nameless. (Though you know who you are.)

Strangely, even though no one from the con ended up coming along, my meal had a con-like air anyway. That’s because the guy who sat next to me at the counter turned out to be an environmental scientist who wanted to write science fiction, and we discussed what was currently being written on that theme, with a special emphasis on Paolo Bacigalupi. There’s no escaping a convention!

Later that afternoon, I walked several more miles to check out the legendary Powell’s Books, and along the way stopped at the original location of Voodoo Doughnuts. Because I had to. After all, Adam Richman commanded me to make it so.

And just as I got to the front of the line, who should call out my name but Aaron French, editor of Dark Discoveries, who was wandering the area with his wife Veronica. So once I picked up that peaches and cream fritter, we sat for an hour talking horror while sharing my peaches and cream fritter.

We had to share it. It was too much for any one person, especially if that person happened to have had some mancakes earlier that morning. And as fresh as could be, too. Because when I ordered it, the cashier at first said they were all out … after which a new tray of them slid forward. Good thing, too—I wouldn’t want to have disappointed Adam Richman.

What did I think of it? Let’s just say that Voodoo Doughnuts redeemed itself in my eyes … and on my tongue. On the other hand, perhaps I learned nothing, because a fritter is not a doughnut. Which I guess means I’ll have a good reason for a return visit to Voodoo the next time I’m in Portland.

And just in case you’re wondering—why, yes, I do intend to visit more Man v. Food restaurants while in San Jose for the Nebula Awards this weekend. Anyone interested in joining me for ribs at Henry’s Hi-Life or a 17-inch, 5-pound burrito at Iguanas Burritozilla? If so, give a shout!