BAR PILOT - August 2009

Name Dropper

A new old bar with a challenging drink menu

Posted by: John Chandler on Aug 27, 2009 at 02:00PM 6 Comments

So what’s this place called? Is it Hound Dog’s? Houndogs (middle), or Terry’s Inn (bottom). Should we vote on it?

I was out carousing in Sellwood the other night and noticed that venerable watering hole Terry’s Inn (4463 SE Milwaukie Ave) has reopened after being shuttered for two years. As longtime lushes can attest, Terry’s, a comfy dive that had been serving up Hamm’s and Budweiser since the Eisenhower administration, was a veritable wonderland of weird, kitschy decor. Year-round Christmas ornaments, a claw machine, even an old coin-operated fortune teller plundered from some ancient boardwalk were just some of the adorable oddities on display.

Sad to report that the knickknacks have all been shipped off to Antiques Roadshow or someplace, and that Terry’s is now called Hound Dog’s. Or is it Houndogs? And the big neon sign still says Terry’s Inn. Sounds like the makings of an identity crisis.

Hound Dog’s (according to Webster anyway) does have one pretty cool gimmick: drink specials that change every two hours. On Saturday, from 10 AM to noon, patrons could order a bloody Mary for a measly $2.50. From noon to 2 PM, it was martini time, again for $2.50. A scotch and soda was available for $2 from 2–4, you could have (a) Sex on the Beach for $3 from 4–6, and from 6–8 it was $2 for a vodka tonic. Things really heated up from 8–10, with a $5 Long Island Ice Tea, and from 10 on all beer was half off.

Theoretically, you could stay from opening to close and spend only $20, depending on the price of beer and your fondness for video poker. But you didn’t hear about it from me.

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Tags: Bar Openings

Martini Time

Howdini.com has answers for everything!

Posted by: John Chandler on Aug 20, 2009 at 04:00PM 10 Comments

I recently had a drunken argument (the best kind) with one of my friends about the proper execution of a martini. I know, everyone loves to bust out the cocktail shaker, but stirring is really the preferred method, unless you enjoy a weak-ass martini. And if you want to skip the vermouth and use vodka instead of a robust gin (Hendricks has been my brand of choice recently) then don’t call it a martini. It’s vodka straight up!

But don’t take my word for it. Just follow along with Howdini.com mixologist Alan Katz. Howdini is a website chockablock with instructional videos to help confused citizens with everything from household finance to uh, sex and stuff.

Take it away Mr. Katz!

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Tags: Cocktails

Happy Hour: Pope House Bourbon Lounge

I’m drowning in a whiskey river—and loving it.

Posted by: John Chandler on Aug 14, 2009 at 01:00PM 3 Comments

Photo: John Chandler

The former locale of the Brazen Bean, an upscale purveyor of martinis, is now home to Pope House Bourbon Lounge.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

The former locale of the Brazen Bean, an upscale purveyor of martinis, is now home to Pope House Bourbon Lounge.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

The bar at the Pope House Bourbon Lounge is small, but the whiskey selection is profound.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

The Longshot Lemonade and the Derby Cooler are among the 32 specialty cocktails available.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

The Hot Brown on toasted jalapeño bread. A sweet deal at $5.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

Is there a more rib-sticking snack than Frito Pie? We thought not.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

A glass of Eagle Rare 10-year-old bourbon backed with a pint of kolsch: a winning combination.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

The pulled-pork quesadilla is enlivened with a potent bourbon barbecue sauce.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

Don’t forget to save room for deviled eggs and tea sandwiches!

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

And finally, after another kolsch and a glass of Hirsch Small Batch Reserve (bourbon), it’s off to bed for this little Bar Pilot.

Southern hospitality is alive and well at Pope House Bourbon Lounge.

When I asked co-owner Kitling Lum, a Kentucky native, about the generous duration of her happy hour (from 4 to 7), she shrugged. “Those were the happy hours we always looked for,” Lum said. “A six o’clock happy hour doesn’t cut it if you have a job.”

Amen. I know I sound like a broken record when it comes to draconian happy hour policies, but this is a personal crusade, and crusades are no place for diplomacy.

Anyway, Lum and her partner, Joel Carson, have only had their doors open for a few weeks, but they have the concept of happy hour nailed down. Drink specials? Yep. Reasonably priced food? Uh-huh. Food doesn’t suck? No, it surely doesn’t. And with guests having the luxury to mull over menu options till 7, there’s no nagging sense of urgency that can ruin an after-work nosh.

Let’s start with the Frito Pie, shall we? A pile of dependable corn curls are slathered with a dollop of robust, slightly sweet chili (a dash of molasses?) and garnished with sour cream and jalapeños. Four bucks and it’s a solid “8” on the yum scale.

The Hot Brown ($5) is a Louisville staple, a thin-sliced turkey sandwich with bacon and melted cheddar that comes betwixt your choice of three different toasted breads. Don’t screw around; get the jalapeño bread. It leaves a pleasant little burning tingle on the roof of your mouth that roars to life when introduced to the smooth, smokey charms of Eagle Rare 10-year-old bourbon.

The three varieties of tea sandwiches may look like dainty doodles fit for a dollhouse tea party, but both the pimento cheese and benedictine (a creamy cucumber spread) sandwiches have a peppery kick to them. And if I had room, I would write a sonnet worthy of John Donne about the pulled-pork quesadilla with sweet-hot bourbon barbecue sauce. For the moment, feisty and filling will have to suffice.

The drink specials are a nifty bargain at $4, especially the Derby Cooler, an invigorating combo of Evan Williams black bourbon, light rum, orange and lemon juices, and grenadine. The fact that my girlfriend wouldn’t part with even a sip of her Longshot Lemonade (Sailor Jerry rum, triple sec, lemonade, soda) speaks greatly to its appeal. Either that or I really need to floss more often.

The spirit of the Bluegrass state permeates the 32 offerings on the cocktail list with monikers like the Kentucky Bramble, Kentucky Thunder, and Kentucky Breeze representing Lum’s stomping grounds.

Still, a mixed drink shouldn’t distract from the allure of the forty-odd bourbons, five American whiskeys, four Tennessee whiskeys, eight rye whiskeys, four Canadian whiskeys, eighteen Scotches, and three Irish whiskeys on hand for your sipping pleasure. Not down with the brown? No sweat, there’s a full bar, but to not avail oneself of the variety of smoldering, rich, caramel tastes that come from properly aged barrels is an opportunity sadly missed.

Lest anyone think I’m incapable of criticism, I’d like to mention that, in my opinion, the Vieux Carre (Bulleit bourbon, brandy, sweet vermouth, Benedictine, Peychaud’s bitters), a New Orleans drink traditionally poured on the rocks, would be better served up. However, I welcome arguments to the contrary. I also look forward to luxuriating over more of Pope House’s bodacious bourbons until the clock strikes 7, an hour when a true Southern gentlemen should bid his companions adieu and begin that long, introspective trek back to ol’ Tara.

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Tags: Happy Hour, Whiskey

Yard Arms

Can really tall daiquiris save our local economy? No, but who cares?

Posted by: John Chandler on Aug 11, 2009 at 03:00PM 5 Comments

Oh, just the one will be fine. I have to work in the morning. Heh, heh.

Hey, if anyone from the Portland Development Commission is on the line, I’ve got a great idea for revitalizing downtown Portland. Pay attention.

When in Vegas, I like to hail a cab over to Fremont Street, and hike around the Old Strip. In this gritty epicurean wonderland, visitors can savor fried Twinkies, all-you-can-eat shrimp cocktails, and complete surf-and-turf dinners for $9.95. But the ultimate in trashy tourist taste treats is drinks by the yard. Imagine 36-inch high daiquiris that come in a mind-melting assortment of flavors (I’m partial to licorice, and if they don’t have that, peppermint), the perfect accessory for rambling around town and dropping in on assorted businesses. Whether you’re window shopping, bar hopping, browsing for books, or queuing up for a Portland Timbers match, any activity can be made more joyous when you add rum, lime, and crushed ice in absurdly tall plastic flutes.

Yes, I said walking around. In Vegas, you can stroll about the avenue with drink in hand and get into cabs with them. Now that’s a civilized country! Heck, you can even tote your container around and get them refilled at participating venues.

Slushy drinks by the yard, your time has come and downtown Portland awaits. Of course, casino-style gambling and extravagant Vegas reviews will inevitably follow. I see a day, not to distant from today, when I can get tanked on towering cocktails, lose $150 at blackjack, and heckle the Blue Man Group, right here in the city I love so well. And it will be paradise.

You got any better ideas? I’m all ears.

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Tags: Cocktails, Out of Town

Bourbon Street

Kentucky whiskey? Yes, please!

Posted by: John Chandler on Aug 07, 2009 at 05:00PM 10 Comments

Oh, sweet bourbon, you understand me.

Just between you, me, and the potted plants, I’m burned out on vodka. It’s trite, flavorless, and it’s the key component in so many, frankly, juvenile drinks, that I’ve lost most of my respect for the stuff.

Tequila? Once in a while, but the very aroma takes me back to some very regrettable situations, like getting threatened and tossed out of the Blue Moon in Coos Bay for hurling on a pool table. I think my picture is still behind the bar with a note that says, “Shoot on sight.”

In an effort to cultivate a more civilized air (always a good idea when the big 5-0 is on the horizon), I’ve been dipping my toe in the whiskey river. I’ve acquired a few sumptuous single-malt Scotch standbys, but my knowledge of bourbon, the American whiskey made primarily from corn, is sketchy at best, other than the ubiquitous Maker’s and soda.

So I imagine I’ll be spending some quality time at Pope House Bourbon Lounge, located at 2075 NW Glisan St, the former home of the Brazen Bean, the gone-but-not-forgotten martini emporium.

I chatted with Pope House co-owner Kitling Lum, herself a Kentucky native, as she painted a fairly compelling portrait of a brown-spirit establishment with 39 different varieties of bourbon and 25 other whiskeys of the Canadian, Irish, Scotch, and Tennessee varieties. “But it’s a full bar,” she assures me. “People who aren’t fans of whiskey will have plenty of choices.”

The food maintains the Southern hospitality vibe with an array of tea sandwiches, bourbon-barbecued pulled pork, and the Louisville Hot Brown, a grilled sandwich with thin-sliced turkey, bacon, cheddar, and house-made parmesan aioli.

I’m just hoping the magazine will reimburse me for a shot of exquisite 28-year-old Hirsch bourbon, which goes for the princely sum of $70. “It’s a supply and demand thing,” Lum tells me. “Once that bottle’s gone, we don’t think we can find another one.”

Which means I’d better hurry. Who’s up for a taste of Kentucky’s finest in the next week or so? Or perhaps a pimento-cheese tea sandwich?

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Tags: Whiskey

I Need Money!

Country Bill’s is for sale? I want it!

Posted by: John Chandler on Aug 04, 2009 at 07:00PM 14 Comments

A bar so cool I’ve kept it a secret. Until now.

Hats off to drinking buddy Leland Hanson for spotting this in the real estate listings.

Holy cow! Country Bill’s in Woodstock is for sale? I must have it. How much do I love Country Bill’s? Let’s put it this way: I’ve been writing about bars and booze in this town for almost a decade and I’ve never mentioned it in print. Why? Because it’s mine and I didn’t feel like sharing. It’s 5300 square feet of classic steakhouse (great rock facade!) with vintage red tuck ‘n’ roll upholstery that’s maintained a faithful contingent of waitresses and cooks since 1964! Now that’s cred you can’t put a price on.

The asking price is almost a million-four, but I bet I can talk ‘em down. What I’m saying is, I’m looking for investors who want to own one of the last remaining pieces of pure, unvarnished Portland before it gets bulldozed to make way for more condos nobody wants. Come on! Who’s with me?

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