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BAR PILOT - November 2009

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Rock the Clubs

Dirty Water Dudes

Standells celebrate at East End

Could it be a coincidence? In my experience there’s no such animal. Last weekend’s e. coli scare, meet this weekend’s “Dirty Water”.

Ultra-groovy rock club the East End is celebrating its second anniversary all week, culminating with a Saturday night concert starring the Standells. This ‘60s combo is best known for its hit, “Dirty Water,” which has become a Boston Red Sox anthem (despite the band being from Los Angeles), but they’ve got a ton of killer tunes including “Sometimes Good Guys Don’t Wear White” and the little ditty featured below, which was the title track to one of the greatest films of the 20th century.

Full disclosure: My band, Mr. Howl, is on the bill, but we’re merely the chips and salsa before the coming of the big enchilada.

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Tags: Night Life, PDX bands

Holiday Shopping

It’s the Teacarina!

Bar Pilot’s Xmas list completed

What a bunch of lazy layabouts you are. Waiting around till the very last minute before flinging yourself willy-nilly into the Christmas shopping meat grinder. Not me, Charlie. You will not catch me wandering aimlessly through Pioneer Place or Lloyd Center, like a lost soul suffering the torments of the damned in some misbegotten underworld. Nor will I be decked out in a haz-mat suit to ward off the latest sinister flu strain while waiting for bored high school volleyball players to wrap my panicked purchases at Freddy’s. I’ve placed my order and now I just have to wait for it to materialize on my doorstep.

Everyone on my list is getting the Teacarina. See, it’s a teacup and an ocarina, all in one! How many times have you found yourself dispiritedly sipping a hot beverage and wishing you had a wind instrument to toodle on between mouthfuls? Your prayers have been answered.

According to the press release, “The four-hole Teacarina comes in eight lustrous colors from star-dappled dark blue to two-tone metallic bronze. They are sale priced at $18 each (regularly $22) with a set of four available for $59.99 (regularly $88).” www.stlocarina.com/teacarina.html

I’m not in the habit of publicly endorsing gewgaws or gimcracks, but when one encounters perfection, it’s impossible to keep it a secret.

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Tags: Holiday Events

Holiday Cocktails

Cranberry Sauced

Family time calls for a stiff drink

302571-stained-glass-cranberries

As promised, I’ve turned my attention to Thanksgiving cocktails. Any time my family is shoved together under one roof, it calls for drastic measures, alcohol-wise. Since slamming a forty of malt liquor in polite company is frowned upon, you might try this tasty (and potent) little number.

Cranberry Crusher

Ingredients:

1 1/2 oz Vodka
1/2 oz Amaretto
1/2 oz Gin
2 oz Cranberry Juice
2 oz Orange Juice
Grenadine optional (just a splash)

Directions
Fill a pint glass half full with ice and add the vodka, followed by cranberry and orange juice. Gin and amaretto next. Add grenadine to make more aesthetically pleasing (or not). Stir and garnish with a lemon wedge.

It’s got to be at least a pint glass for me. I need the liquid fortitude to steel myself against Aunt Frieda’s annual discussion of her post-operative complications, and Uncle Gary’s latest anti-government tirade. (“It’s not a militia for Pete’s sake. It’s just a club—with plenty of ammunition.”)

OK, drinking buddies, it’s your turn. What do you recommend for getting through the torments of Turkey Day?

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Tags: Recipes, Cocktails, Holiday Events

Random Notes

Everyone Loves Leftovers

It’s a slow news day. Let’s catch up!

Dsc01237

A genuine Kodak moment: answering the call of nature on the way to Eugene.

Just a few short items today, drinking buddies.

ITEM: I was going to blog about my fab weekend road trip to Eugene to see the Pixies, but the only photo that came out was this one. Just to clarify, this is a roadside rest stop that we visited. It was pretty clean. By the way, the Pixies were stupefyingly good, and the concert kicked butt. A shout out to the drunk girls who got mad at us when we asked them to sit down so that we could see the show: You are awful people. Truly a waste of space.

ITEM: Discovered a great restaurant and bar in Eugene called The Vintage. Ask for the Cucumber Gin Fizz.

ITEM: I highly recommend the blog Toxic Cocktail, written by a hard-drinking local gal who has two primary concerns in life. Preserving the sanctity of our environment—and getting drunk. Right on!

ITEM: If you’re a dipsomaniac who loves to tell stories about your inebriated exploits, have we got an iPhone app for you. It’s called Drinking: the iPhone App for Drunks, and it’s a site where sauce hounds can leave timely tales about stuff they did whilst under the influence of the demon rum (or whatever). I don’t have an iPhone, so if someone who’s more technologically advanced than I am wants to take this puppy for a test drive, I’d be interested in hearing all about it.

Got any Portland bar/beer/booze news? Give me a holler.

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Tags: Places to Go

Suds Survey

A Few Questions, Please

Just a moment for a little research

Importedbeer

My trusty intern Robert just sent me this link to a story in Advertising Age about how someone’s taste in beer can reveal much about their personality. The results are somewhat predictable—domestic lager fans are middle-of-the-road types, craft beer consumers are inquisitive free spirits who like to watch The Office, and teetotalers are the enemy more conservative citizens who enjoy a much narrower variety of life experiences.

Well duh! You call that research? In the interests of scientific investigation, I’ve formulated my own beer survey. Answer in the comments section by putting down the number of the question, followed by your answer (e.g., 1. Guinness. 2. 37. 3. I’ve never barfed in my life, etc.)

1. When you’re in the beer aisle at the local supermarket, you look for:

2. Domestic beer tastes to you like:

3. When someone uses the term “craft beer” they’re referring to:

4. You just had a brutal day at the office and only have $5 to drown your misery. How do you spend it?

5. A light beer is a good choice when you are:

6. Some high school kids ask you to buy them beer at the Plaid Pantry. Without hesitation you:

7. Armageddon is close at hand, and you only have time to get one keg of beer into your shelter. What will it be?

8. Which of the following statements most closely describes you:

a. “Oh boy! Time to separate the recycling!”
b. "Woulda, shoulda, coulda. How about a cool, refreshing glass of STFU?
c. “Wait! What am I doing?”
d. “That Sarah Palin’s got the liberals running scared.”
e. “If you ask me, the bastards in the pharmaceutical industry are the real criminals.”
f. “You gonna eat that?”
g. “BRAINS!!!”
h. “A beer run? Here’s $3, get something that’ll reduce me to gibbering idiocy real fast.”
i. “Please. Just leave me alone.”
j. “Pack your bags honey, we’re going to Rio!”
k. “Twitter’s down again?”
l. “My life is a vast desert of misery and ruin.”
m. “I like turtles!”

I’ll discuss the answers with my co-worker Garrett, who knows everything, and postulate some theories. I wonder if I can get a research grant for this?

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Tags: Beer, Craft Beers

Drink Locally

New Bars = Zero Ambience

So why am I here?

Barcelona-2858--barcelona-bar-crawl

This post is kind of a rant. A reasonable rant, but a rant just the same.

It was my intrepid drinking buddy Lucy who made the following vital observation as we were out bar hopping on Saturday night. “The problem with these new bars is that they might as well be coffee shops,” she said. And at that moment everything that had been bothering me about investigating the latest watering holes became crystal clear.

I’ve been to three brand new Portland bars in the last week, and I couldn’t find much to say about any of them. The drinks were fine, the bar menu adequate, the service attentive. So how come I didn’t want to return to any of them?

Because I was bored stiff. None of the rooms engaged me in the slightest. Nothing about these places encouraged me to stay a while.

All three of the bars I visited were sterile, scrubbed, and sorely lacking in any sort of atmosphere. All three were basically just rooms with booze in them. Cement walls, tables and chairs, a few TVs, exposed ducts, and not much else. I’ve been in Kinkos that had more bonhomie. See, if I wanted to drink in a dull, nondescript room, I have my house!

When I was in high school, any safe harbor to sneak a forbidden sip or two was enough. A basement, a park, a tree house, under a bridge, it didn’t matter. Now I require a space that embraces my battered psyche, with a design sensibility that helps diffuse my ever-escalating rage levels.

This is not to say I prefer to tipple in rat-infested hell holes, but you can’t fake heart and soul. What kind of bar is it? Where’s the polished wood accents? Where are the old timers? Where’s the food? (Sidebar: If I go to one more joint where my only chow options are salads and sandwiches, I’m gonna have a kanipshin. Yes, I am aware that starting up a business is expensive and risky, especially in this leaky boat of an economy, but a toaster oven and a lettuce crisper is not a kitchen.)

Note to would-be bar owners: It is crucial that your establishment have an inviting vibe, preferably with seating that you can melt into. Music should be at conversation level. It should have a sense of time and place, an idea, a concept, an aesthetic. Four walls and some chairs aren’t enough. Not if you want my drinking dollar. I need a destination that’s worth getting to.

This is why I bemoan the passing of kitsch-cool spots like Henry Ford’s and the Rose & Raindrop. This is why I like drinking at Dots, or the Matador, or My Father’s Place. It’s also why I like Beaker and Flask. There’s an ineffable warmth. A soul perhaps. A beating heart.

Am I being overly fussy? Wouldn’t surprise me a bit. Am I effectively articulating what’s wrong with the latest crop of bars in Portland? I haven’t the foggiest. Am I a grumpy old fart? Guilty.

I need some feedback. Please chime in with your own opinions. What do you look for in a bar? Should it be more than a stool and a tall boy?

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Tags: Bar Openings

Drink Locally

Happy Beerthday!

Free beer at East Burn once a year

Beer

No, this isn’t me. Not yet, anyway.

Free beer on your birthday? Yeah, right. And all the hot girls in your office have to accept a date request from you too.

A reader named Ross just sent me a query (it’s like a letter but shorter) wanting to know the best place in Portland for free drinks on your birthday. My reply was short and to the point: “Your house.” But, good sport that I am, I vowed to look into the matter.

Imagine my shock and surprise. Turns out you and nine (whoa!) friends can indeed drink for free on your birthday at East Burn, 1800 E. Burnside. Wait! Wait! Before you make babysitter plans, be advised that certain restrictions apply.

You must come in and register at least a week in advance.

The free drinking is for one hour only.

Tap and bottled beer or house wine only.

The drinking hour must be after 9 PM.

East Burn will only accommodate two parties per night. First registered, first served.

I’m still trying to contain my joy and rage. After all, I’ve had 15 birthdays in Portland, but no free hour of drinking. This shall not stand. Does anybody else know of any sweet birthday deals around town? I really want to know.

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Tags: Beer, Cheap, Holiday Events

Out and About

Halloween Memories

Good thing I was taking pictures

Hallow1
Photo: John Chandler

Me, aka the Bar Pilot, aka Pabst Man, the people’s superhero.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

Me, aka the Bar Pilot, aka Pabst Man, the people’s superhero.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

Calamity Jane and Pabst Man, still dangerously sober.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

The Halloween party was highlighted by shakin’ tunes provided by DJ T-Sully.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

As soon as we left the party, strange citizens began to materialize. This astronaut is clearly lost in space.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

We barely escaped the luchador and the Jolly Green Giant. The big green guy tried to climb into our car!

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

Our next destination: Gold Dust Meridian on SE Hawthorne.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

Our waitress was the very model of efficiency. Not bad for a gal with an ice pick in her noggin.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

This guy is still trying to figure out why his audition for the Blue Man Group was a flop.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

The poor fellow couldn’t persuade anyone to dance with him.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

A friendly stewardess points out the emergency exits to a flapper and a lumberjack.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

Zombie boy scout and his lady fair helped us across the street.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

By this time, people were giving us a pretty wide birth.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

What the—? Pabst Man doesn’t need a sidekick!

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

A man of the cloth flirts with temptation outside the Space Room.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

Ah, a Space Punch and a flame-thrower hot bloody Mary. Just in time.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

Sometimes even Pabst Man needs to change things up drinkwise.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

The Space Room takes a turn for the weird.

View Slideshow » Photo: John Chandler

What the hell was in that drink? Time to go home.

Halloween is my favorite holiday, hands down. Christmas and Thanksgiving are not without their charms, but both involve stressful family get-togethers with their attendant mind-numbingly tedious mealtime conversations. My brother’s gag concerning the whereabouts of the gravy boat (“I think it ran aground!”) got big laughs the first time he said it—back in 1974. Now it’s a teeth-grinding, anticipatory nightmare, like an imminent tax deadline or waiting for a physical examination conducted by Dr. Chillyhands.

And don’t get me started on Christmas shopping! The Bataan death march was a cakewalk in comparison. At least those sorry souls could look forward to a cessation of suffering and the arrival of sweet oblivion. They didn’t have to hang around after the march’s conclusion listening to relatives gripe about “the miserable haul this year” and their inevitable trip to the Target “returns” counter. “An army of sneezing brats drooling all over the place; might as well book a cruise on a plague ship,” is a popular post-Yuletide sentiment heard around our tree. This now concludes the whine portion of the blog post.

Halloween is an enthusiastic embrace of mischief, pageantry, and good-natured deviltry. We don fantasy garb and slip out under the cover of darkness to let our inner wolves sniff a few butts, eat fun-size Snickers bars till our choppers beg for mercy, and howl a bit with the rest of the pack. And with this Halloween taking place on a Saturday night, it was all just too perfect.

I was dressed as Pabst Man, the people’s superhero. I wiggled into my Pabst union suit, stuck a Pabst cap on my head, and filled my backpack with cans of PBR. I handed these out to everyone I met, intoning, “Please enjoy this complimentary beverage from Pabst Brewing. Drink responsibly.” Pabst, it should be known, is currently without a spokesman. Consider this my audition.

My friends and I went to a swinging cocktail party where we went through a bottle of Kahlua while listening to our host’s awesome collection of 45s. We then departed around 11:30 to ramble the streets and mingle with our fellow revelers. As we sauntered up SE Hawthorne, we couldn’t help but notice the abundance of zombies, witches, flappers, mummies, kitty cats, Martians, and pirates out parading in their seasonal finery. The air was thick with a Mardi Gras-like aroma of friendly intoxication, and we recklessly struck up conversations with total strangers. It was, after all, Halloween. One night of the year that we didn’t have to be our cowering, banal selves. We could be anyone behind these masks.

Is it possible I’ve been watching too much Dexter on Netflix?

Here then, is my web-exclusive slideshow from Halloween night on Hawthorne. Now it’s all coming back to me. If you feel so moved, share some fond Halloween memories with me and the drinking buddies.

Note to the general public: If you happen to find yourself as an unwilling participant in this slideshow, please contact me at jchandler@portlandmonthlymag.com and we’ll do our best to blur you out of the picture.

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Tags: Slideshow, Holiday Events

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