BAR PILOT

Happy Hour of the Week

Rolling with Miss Delta

Posted by: John Chandler on Dec 06, 2010 at 11:00AM 3 Comments

“I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood.”

I can’t remember if the preceding quote was from Thomas Hobbes or Calvin and Hobbes, but it suits me. Having never lived anywhere other than Oregon, you would think my system is perfectly attuned to cold, wet, and dismal days. And so it is. But it’s on days like these that a little hot coal of anger can do wonders for keeping a body focused and ambulatory.

In retrospect, I probably should have put off reviewing a Happy Hour until I was in a better mood. The source of my grouchiness was really nothing specific, but can be scientifically explained by reading this incredibly insightful post from Hyperbole and a Half, a website recently endorsed by our own Anne at Culturephile.

Enough exposition. By the time I arrived at Miss Delta on N Mississippi, it was dark, rainy, and tragically cold. I wasn’t feeling social, glib, or especially inquisitive. But I was really hungry, and so it was that my base instincts triumphed over my smoldering resentment of the universe. Miss Delta is the slightly-less-thrift-store-funky offspring of the original Delta Cafe on SE Woodstock, a joint that earned its rep by dropping huge platters of Southern cooking on its customers for embarrassingly small sums of money. I can remember ordering the meatloaf special—with two sides—for five freakin’ dollars. The Delta was never a bastion of culinary precision, and that’s still the case, but the heaping portions are standard issue, and if you can make it to Happy Hour (3-6 daily), the prices are straight out of the late 20th century.

Let’s start with that ubiquitous trailer-park staple, meatloaf. The kitchen crew at Miss Delta aren’t shy about repurposing the chow, as evidenced by my meatloaf mac and cheese ($6), and my brother’s meatloaf po’ boy ($6). We were told that the meatloaf is made with a revolving variety of ingredients on a regular basis, and that we were currently eating the last of the Thanksgiving loaf, made from ground turkey, bell peppers, and onions. The meatloaf mac was pasted with a savory cheese blend of cheddar, parmesan, and an especially smoky jack, that simultaneously succeeded in warming me up and putting a damper on my grumpiness. While my friend Lucy went off to make a phone call, I selflessly helped myself to her jambalaya ($6), a dish spicy enough to thaw out a woolly mammoth. Loaded with andouile sausage, smoked chicken, okra, and shrimp, it’s a melange of Cajun coziness and peppery power. Again, precision is not the name of the game here; if you’re offended by the presence of whole garlic cloves hiding amidst the other ingredients, then this isn’t your picnic.

The black-eyed pea fritters ($4), accompanied by a brawny green chili and cheese sauce, fills the requirements of a bread course (starchy, crusty), only with more bite and a dipping sauce that could prove habit forming. The collard greens ($3, there is a vegan option) was a little light on the pork, though the greens were impeccably cooked and packed plenty of vinegar kick.

The draught beer selection is small and could use a few more local brands, but I can’t gripe about Lagunitas IPA and Abita Turbodog, both worthy specimens at $3 a pint during Happy Hour. The cocktails are mostly standards with the name of a staff member affixed to it as a mark of quality assurance, such as Darla’s Sensational Sidecar and Melissey’s Best Manhattan. I opted for Arlene’s Hottest Toddy ($7), a fortifying blend of Jim Beam, Barenjager honey liqueur, lemon and hot water. garnished with cinnamon and whole cloves. It made me smile for the first time in three days.

While hardcore foodies may not be delighted with Miss Delta’s “camp stew” approach to meal prep, those of us in need of seasonal solace and a smiling waitress are well served. Don’t forget that winter lasts for approximately 8 1/2 months in Portland—and that requires a lot of comforting.

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Tags: Happy Hour, North Dining, Cheap Eats, NoPo, Miss Delta

More Ale Fest

Chugging and chatting at HAF 2010

Posted by: John Chandler on Dec 03, 2010 at 03:00PM 4 Comments

Good on me for having the sense to arrive at the Holiday Ale Festival shortly before 2. There were plenty of people present but the lion’s share of the attendees were probably still at work trying to cough their way out early with wildly exaggerated flu symptoms. The lines were extremely manageable.

One can tell a holiday ale fan at a glance: they’re big and bearded (the guys anyway, only a few of the gals), a winter beer flavor profile made flesh. Hearty and highly insulated, we’re happier than Dracula at a hemophiliacs hoedown, comparing elusive spices (“Cardamom? Clove? Cinnamon?”) and the mysterious influence of wood (“Bourbon? Pinot? Brandy?”) on the barrel-aged brews.

There were a few topics of conversation that seemed to be making the rounds. Some of the old-timers were miffed about having to wear paper wristbands. A wristband is tolerable if you’re only attending one day of a festival, but expecting return visitors to keep the damn things on for three or four days is ludicrous. For one thing, you look like a nincompoop when you’re anywhere other than the fest. For another, they begin to chafe if left on indefinitely. Could we just get microchipped or something?

Another lively debate popped up on the subject of aged beers. I was tipping a sample of the Deschutes Jubal 2000 (a special pour that cost the princely sum of two tasting tickets!), a 10-year-old version of the company’s signature Jubelale. I thought it was serviceable, but a few of the fellows at my table were not pleased and proclaimed the concept of barrel-aging to be a scam. “We’re not wine drinkers!” one of them bellowed. “We drink beer and we don’t want to wait 10 years for it! And it costs a fortune!” Just stick with it, guys, and you’ll soon be singing a different tune. Life is full of surprises and disappointments. Not every beer is robust enough to stand up to the forces of time and oxidation.

For instance, Hopworks Brewing was represented by a stellar selection called Kentucky Christmas that was as inspiring and complex as a Debussy orchestral work. After aging Hopworks’ Abominable Winter Ale in Buffalo Trace bourbon barrels, the resultant brew was not only bold but replete with subtle shadings of vanilla, caramel, and toasty malts. I nursed my two-ounce sample with ultimate care, treasuring it like a gift from the beer gods.

The other brew that annihilated my palate was the Figgy Pudding Olde Stock from the much ballyhooed Block 15 Brewing in Corvallis. For such a muscular offering (11 percent alcohol), Figgy presented a cavalcade of intriguing of sensations. The presence of wine, molasses, and figs was undeniable, but the cunning addition of Christmas condiments like cinnamon and nutmeg made it more than Wassail worthy, and I greatly look forward to more beers from this enterprising operation.

I probably should have varied my tastings a bit, interspersing a few lighter beers into the mix, but the temptation to try as many barley wines and strong ales as possible proved too great. The Cranberry Saison from Gilgamesh Brewing in Turner worked as an invigorating palate cleanser. Compared with the sledgehammer beers that typify the fest, this fruity little number was a cheeky and refreshing relief.

See you next year! I could only attend one afternoon of the festival, because my dog Iggy chewed my wristband off. Does that mean he can get in?

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Tags: Beer Festivals, Craft Beers, Gilgamesh Brewing, Block 15 Brewing, Hopworks Urban Brewery

Ale Fest Files

A quick report from the Holiday Ale Festival

Posted by: John Chandler on Dec 02, 2010 at 04:00PM 3 Comments

Security! This guy is a troublemaker!

No matter how many precautions you take; no matter how much water you drink; no matter how slowly you sip; you’re going to get a colossal buzz on when reporting from the Holiday Ale Festival. The beers are just too big, bold, and brawny to keep a level head, with many weighing in at 10 percent alcohol by volume. I sampled eight different brews that ranged from “Meh” to “OMG.”

It’s also a good idea to arrive early; as the clock ticked late into the afternoon, the lines became more congested (as did my sinuses). Kudos to festival organizers for pitching such a balmy, well-heated tent at Pioneer Square. I recommend the $2 coat check—proceeds benefit the Children’s Cancer Association.

Knee-jerk reviews:

Strongest: Figgy Pudding from Corvallis’s Block 15 Brewing

Tastiest: Kentucky Christmas from Hopworks

Smoothest: Old Stock from North Coast

Blandest: Ginger Beer from Buckman Village

There will be a more detailed post to follow, but I’m going to have to lay low for the time being. There was a bully at the fest who dumped a beer on my head and tried to pick a fight with me. I barely escaped with my life! I managed to get a picture of him, though. If you see this guy, avoid him at all costs.

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I Dare You

10 scary beers

Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 30, 2010 at 10:00AM 8 Comments

Looks like that liquid nuclear waste known as Four Loko will soon either be off the shelves or perhaps reappear in some neutered format. If you’re still seeking daredevil drinks, here’s a list of 10 beers that might quench your thirst for thrills. Many thanks to longtime reader David for sending these along. If beastly beers aren’t your cup of tea, there are alternatives.

Questions for the day

Has anyone out there actually tried one of these? Can they be found locally (I’m lookin’, I’m lookin’)? Which one sounds most/least appealing? Do you feel lucky, punk?

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Tags: Craft Beers, Product Testing

Fresh Kicks

442 serves up sandwiches, suds, and soccer

Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 23, 2010 at 10:00AM 10 Comments

Some guys were born to be publicans. Bosnian bar owner Muhamed Mujcic-Mufko is such a man. It takes the wiry, snow-haired proprietor of 442 on SE Hawthorne nearly two seconds to welcome a stranger to his small, dark-wood furnished pub, with a hearty bellow of, “Hello my friend!” Once introductions are made, he proudly tells me about his establishment (“Is nice place”), the menu (“Best food in town”), and the beer (“Not 16 ounce—we have 24!”). On the wall three large flat screens are showing sporting events. A colorful assortment of soccer jersies and team pennants add jaunty flair to the already athletic ambiance.

For those oblivious to international sport, 442 is a soccer-themed bar and the name refers to 4-4-2, the most common player formation in the game. The bar sits in the former location of the Taste of Europe market (which Muhamed also owned) and it looks like it could hold perhaps 50 people, tops. It’s empty at the moment, but Muhamed assures me that the place was packed just the night before. Soccer is the bar’s lifeblood and there are nearly two-dozen satellite channels on tap dedicated to that end. Whether it’s Tottenham vs Bremen, Stuttgart vs Koln, or Real Madrid vs Ajax (not to mention American Major League soccer tilts, including the Portland Timbers), chances are you’ll find your match as well as a cadre of fellow devotees with whom to cheer, curse, and drink.

As Muhamed himself boasts, draught beers (Laurelwood Treehugger Porter, Ninkasi IPA, and Deschutes Black Butte Porter are among the locals) are served in thunderous 24-ounce mugs for $4.50. There are another 20 or so brands by the bottle, a respectable wine list, and a full bar. I ask about Happy Hour and I’m told, “All day is Happy Hour!” What Muhamed means by that is that there isn’t really a Happy Hour, but his prices are more than fair—and if you don’t like them you can watch your soccer someplace else. And that would be a tragedy, because the food at 442 is fairly awe-inspiring.

I order a grilled-cheese sandwich with a side salad ($6.99). Muhamed calls back to the kitchen “grilled cheese for nice guy!” A few minutes later I’m served the tastiest (and most offbeat) example of this dish I’ve ever encountered. The sandwich is not grilled. The round, Bosnian lepinja bread is baked in-house and it’s cloud-soft and springy, with a delicate golden crust on top. Inside there is provolone, feta, and parmesan melted into a warm, gooey blanket, with a splash of olive oil, fresh tomatoes, and a layer of ajvar, a piquant relish made from red peppers, eggplant, and garlic. Muhamed watches me tear into this amazing sandwich with the enthusiasm of a hyena and smiles. “Told you is good!” he says. The salad is drizzled with a sweet balsamic vinegar, a light dusting of parmesan, and more olive oil. What could have been a mere plate decoration is simply sensational in its own right.

Perusing the menu I stumble over entries such as Ćevapi (fresh ground beef and lamb patties), Šiš-Ćevap (beef kebabs), Suđuk (traditional Bosnian smoked sausage), and Peka, which I’m told is the finest cut of beef that gets dried and smoked, Fear not vegetarians! There are five different sandwiches, including roasted eggplant, and roasted pepper, as well as cheese plates, salads, and spreads for your non-fleshy nourishment. Most entrees ring in between $6-12. “Is all good food,” Muhamed announces. “Fresh and healthy.”

I imagine 442 is a jumping joint indeed during a rowdy soccer match and for local enthusiasts, this is welcome news. But it’s also a very cozy, friendly space, with swift, accommodating service, and a strange, bountiful menu that demands to be explored. Goal!!!!!

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Tags: Bar Openings, Craft Beers, Southeast, Sports bars, 442

A Shot of Turkey

Baste your bird in booze!

Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 19, 2010 at 11:00AM 6 Comments

Since at least the dawn of time (or perhaps earlier), culinary minds have been pondering various methods for marrying booze and bird during the holiday season; a way to make the Tryptophan coma just a little trippier. Cheer up drinking buddies, your prayers have been answered. I am indeed thankful for the good folks over at the awesome food blog Endless Simmer for this little gem of a recipe.

Since I’m in a sharing mood, I’d love it if you’d send in your own genius ideas for improving the Thanksgiving meal. What’s the perfect alcohol accompaniment? When it comes to pie should it be pumpkin, pecan, or mince? What do you do with leftovers?

Jägermeister Roasted Turkey with Fresh Herbs

1 Fresh Turkey 13-15 lbs.

1 sweet onion cut in quarter

1 carrot peeled and chopped

1 branch of celery chopped

A bouquet of sage, parsley and marjoram

Salt and pepper

6 Tbsp unsalted butter

1 Tbsp minced lemon zest

¼ cup Jägermeister

2 carrots peeled and chopped

½ sweet onion chopped

¼ cup cornstarch stir in ¼ cup water

2 cups chicken stock

½ cup Jägermeister

Salt and pepper to taste

Fresh sage for garnish

• Preheat oven to 325?F.

• Rinse the turkey inside and out and pat dry with a paper towel. Place the onion, carrot, celery, herbs in the turkey and season inside and outside the poultry. Truss the turkey or tie the legs with kitchen string. Place breast side up on a rack in a roasting pan. Spread 2 tablespoons of the butter over the breast. In a small pan over low heat, melt the remaining butter; stir in the lemon zest, ¼ cup of water and ¼ cup of Jägermeister.

• Roast the turkey, basting with Jägermeister butter mixture every 20 minutes, until pan drippings have accumulated, then baste with the drippings. After 1½ hours, add the chopped carrots, onion to the pan and continue to roast, basting every 30 minutes. If the breast begins to over brown, cover loosely with aluminum foil. Roast until the thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh away from the bone registers 175?F, 2½ -3 hours total.

• Transfer the turkey to a cutting board, cover with foil and let rest for 30 minutes before carving.

• Skim off the fat and juices of the pan, leaving the vegetables. Set the pan over medium heat and scrape up any brown bits. Pour 1 cup of chicken stock and stir for 3 minutes. Add the corn starch mixture and the remaining chicken stock; stir until thickened. Pour Jägermeister into the pan and simmer for 1 minute. Strain the Jägermeister Gravy.

• Snip the string, carve the turkey and arrange on a warmed platter. Serve with Jägermeister gravy.

• Serve 12, without leftovers.

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Tags: Recipes, Holiday Events, Jägermeister

Review: New Brew Venue

Hawthorne has a Hophouse

Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 16, 2010 at 11:00AM 13 Comments

Be advised that Hawthorne Hophouse, the new Northwest-centric beer bar on SE Hawthorne, is a kid-friendly venue. The presence of children in pubs is a thorny issue among the Portland suds set, i.e., whether or not beer-loving parents have the right to subject their fellow pub patrons to a rampage of raging rugrats. There were at least seven youngsters on the premises last night and I didn’t hear a peep out of them, so for the time being it’s not an issue (although I’m a dog owner so I’m used to ignoring unprovoked yowling). However, I did feel some subtle pressure to keep a tight rein on my use of profanity, which tends to increase in direct proportion to number of beers consumed—so there’s that.

The Hophouse is located in that tiny strip of businesses at 41st and Hawthorne, where approximately 84 Thai restaurants have opened and closed over the last five years. With the arrival of a bustling New Seasons market right across the street, the lure of freshly poured beer should exert a powerful pull on harried yuppie shoppers—especially those that have been driven to the brink of madness by the demands of unruly offspring. The space is small, antiseptically clean, and welcoming; a veritable oasis of regional repast.

The food menu is fairly “McMenamin” (burgers, fries, salads, sandwiches) in appearance but they do have a Happy Hour between 9 and midnight, with an assortment of $4 goodies like poutine, chicken satay, wasabi deviled eggs, and a chicken and cheddar sandwich. The real hook at the Hophouse is a rotating cast of two-dozen Northwest beers on tap. This includes pours from nano-breweries like Natian (their Lumberjane Stout provided a jolt of bitter coffee-roasted charm), Vertigo, and Mt Tabor Brewing in addition to more familiar names like Deschutes, Hopworks, and Ninkasi.

There’s simply no room for brand loyalty here, because kegs come and go like summer lovers. There are two excellent solutions for those looking to experience the yin and yang of available flavors. On Sundays, in addition to an all-day Happy Hour, beer-curious patrons can take advantage of $3 glasses of local-beer selections. Before anyone can work up a serious gripe about 12-ounce glasses for $3, it should be known that our teeniest, tiniest breweries typically sell their product for a little more scratch, since distribution is usually limited to kegs delivered by “some guy with a truck.”

On Monday evenings, at least for the rest of the month, six, twelve, and twenty-four glass sampler trays are half-price, which allows for some serious exploration. My friends and I ordered up a twelve (2 oz) glass flight for a measly $6.50, with each of us selecting three beers from the menu. We then passed them around, exchanging such brilliant tasting observations as, “Roasty and toasty!” and “surprisingly citrus for an IPA.” And presto! You’ll be a beer geek before you know it.

In terms of finding a comfortable niche, Hawthorne Hophouse is the right business at the right time. Upper Hawthorne (above 39th/Cesar Chavez) was a land sadly bereft of beer diversity, unlike lower Hawthorne which is awash in a variety of worthy brews. The arrival of the Hophouse has improved this situation dramtically.

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Tags: Happy Hour, Family Fun, Bar Openings, Craft Beers, Southeast, Ninkasi Brewing, Hawthorne Hophouse

Four Loko Update

It tastes really bad. Really, really bad.

Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 15, 2010 at 10:00AM 13 Comments

Nice color. Time to fuel up the jet?

An addendum to my previous post on Four Loko.

Christie Scott, a public affairs specialist for the OLCC was nice enough to call me back with a status report. The commission is currently reviewing the possible removal of alcoholic energy drinks from stores in Oregon. They’re also consulting with the attorney general’s office about whether or not these drinks are in violation of existing laws.

I sincerely hope that the OLCC’s evidence gathering does not include a taste test. On Saturday night, I cowboyed up and took two swigs of my recently purchased can of Lemon Lime Four Loko. I figured it was going to be disgusting, but I wasn’t prepared for the unfathomable depths of vile awfulness. It was like some hideous off-brand lemon-lime powdered drink from the Dollar Store with a few extra pounds of sugar thrown in to unsuccessfully camouflage the flavor of grain alcohol infused with laundry detergent. After two swallows my blood sugar was through the roof and I felt sick to my stomach. The other 23 ounces went down the drain. I’m scared that I’ll never erase the memory of that taste or that it somehow corrupted my palate.

It’s bilge water with no redeeming qualities. Forget waterboarding: give terror suspects a few cans of this fruity swill and they’ll confess to anything. If evil was a flavor it would be Four Loko.

UPDATE This just in from the Bar Pilot action news team.

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Tags: Four Loko, Product Testing, Oregon Liquor Control Commission

Bad News in a Can

Drunk and wired is no way to go through life

Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 12, 2010 at 11:00AM 13 Comments

A malt beverage available in a variety of flavors, Four Loko combines alcohol with stimulants like caffeine, guarana, and taurine—a mix that Harvard health officials and other doctors deem hazardous.

Known as “blackout in a can” for its combination of caffeine and 12 percent alcohol, Four Loko is one of 55 drinks that the state [Michigan] banned Thursday.

Sen. Chuck Schumer is calling on the New York State Liquor Authority to ban the drink known affectionately among some as “Blackout-in-a-can”—a cocktail of caffeine and malt liquor known as Four Loko.

The first I heard about Four Loko, a malt liquor that’s cunningly crammed full of stimulants, was when nine students at Central Washington University went to the hospital after chugging a bunch of the stuff at an off-campus party in early October. A little sleuthing on my part revealed that this wasn’t an isolated incident. At Ramapo College in New Jersey, 23 students went to the hospital after a Four Loko binge, and four students from New York’s Skidmore College ended up in the ER after a Loko-fied Halloween party. Apparently it’s all the rage on campuses—just like raccoon coats, swallowing goldfish, and stuffing phone booths.

I’ve only tried malt liquor energy drinks on two occasions: several Halloweens ago, someone brought a 12-pack of Liquid Charge to a friend’s party and I downed a couple in order to horrify my fellow revelers (it was Halloween, after all). Over a year later, at the same friend’s birthday party, we discovered she still had several Liquid Charges left (go figure) so I repeated the feat. My judgment, in both instances, was severely impaired (i.e., drunk party clown showing off his brazen idiocy).

I didn’t notice any gruesome side effects (other than a vicious hangover), but apparently Liquid Charge (6.9 percent alcohol in a 16 ounce can) is weak tea compared to the mighty Four Loko which boasts a 12 percent alcohol kick that comes in a hefty 23.5 ounce can along with enough caffeine, guarana, and taurine to have you dancing the mambo till the next election. A Harvard report compared it to six servings of alcohol and five cups of coffee, but that estimate was at the high end of the spectrum from the accounts that I read.

Washington state has already banned Four Loko and a bunch of related products, and the Oregon Liquor Control Commission is mulling over a similar course of action. In the meantime, I ambled over to the local Skeezy Mart and bought a can of Four Loko for $2.75. I haven’t tried it yet. I’m still screwing up the courage.

Probably the thing that surprised me the most about Four Loko is that it comes in nine “delicious” flavors (I opted for Lemon Lime, although Fruit Punch and Grape were both tempting) and that it looks exactly like an energy drink. But if you search carefully enough, the helpful message “contains alcohol” is visible around the top of the can. Ah, corporate responsibility at its finest.

I was recently asked about my opinion on the subject, so here goes. Frankly, I can’t imagine vast numbers of our readership are going to be even momentarily intrigued by this crass swill. Surveys reveal Portland Monthly readers to be highly educated, intelligent, and employed. As for me, I’ve slugged down some truly vile stuff in my time. Fortified wine, 40-ouncers of Olde English, rotgut booze, even some homemade white lightning served in an old mayo jar. Not smart, but the path to wisdom is fraught with such pits and snares.

I totally understand the allure of combining the heightened sense of well being that comes from booze, with the desire to be reasonably alert throughout the duration of a party. The longer you can remain clever (and perpendicular) at a social event, the better chance you have of winning friends and influencing people. “Say, let’s invite John Chandler to our next party. He was on his feet telling funny stories about his roommates till the wee hours. And he drank all the rum! What a guy!” It’s a fine line to try and walk, one that I imagine would appeal to a college student looking for a hook-up or just trying to fit in with the “in” crowd. I recall from my distant college days, my own need to overcome social anxiety and to appear calm, cool, and collected. Most of the time it didn’t work and at least once I ended up hurling all over the back seat of a girl’s Volkswagen. Needless to say, that relationship never got off the ground.

But then I never had to contend with a drink that hides the depressant effects of alcohol with waves of newfound energy, either. One report said that Four Loko was like stepping on the gas and putting on the breaks at the same time. That can’t be good. I have little doubt that the OLCC will climb aboard and ban this nasty stuff and that campuses will once again be safe from the effects of binge drinking. That is, until bored students or corporate overlords invent something else that seems fun and dangerous. Remember, consume responsibly—which is a message you won’t find on a can of Four Loko. Bottom line: Anytime judgment and motor skills are out the window, combined with lots and lots of energy, is a recipe for disaster. Nothing good can possibly come of it.

This topic is now open for discussion: Yes, we have free will and no one is forcing this junk on us. Unfortunately, we as a people ain’t the brightest bulbs in the chandelier—especially when it comes to leisure time. Here’s a comical video on the subject.

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Tags: Four Loko, Oregon Liquor Control Commission

Serenity Now!

Soothing sounds abound at Kelly’s Olympian

Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 10, 2010 at 03:00PM 3 Comments

Cemetery is misspelled. No wonder Johnny can’t read.

Need something to do? Tonight at Kelly’s Olympian you can enjoy a quartet of mellifluous musical ensembles playing tranquil tunes and nurturing melodies. It’ll get started right after the crystal healing workshop.

I’m hoping there will be specials on white wine spritzers!

Thanks to Ryan and Anne for the heads-up!

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Happy Hour of the Week

Great plates at Ate Oh Ate

Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 09, 2010 at 10:00AM 6 Comments

Korean chicken—feel the burn.

What’s the Bar Pilot’s equivalent of “don’t judge a book by it’s cover?” Probably something along the lines of “don’t diss a dive by its decor” or “don’t bad-mouth a bar because of its booths.” You get the idea, I think.

Case in point: Last week I visited a very upscale restaurant to partake of Happy Hour in its bee-yoo-tee-ful patio lounge. With three fire pits, immaculate landscaping, and a decorative wall of foliage, even a member of society’s flotsam like myself felt VIP-worthy for a short time. Of course, I paid for the privilege, and was rewarded with two feeble cocktails and a plate of undercooked calamari. Pricey. Waste. Of. Time.

In an effort to revive flagging spirits, my three-person posse ambled over to Ate Oh Ate (a play on the Honolulu area code) on East Burnside for some Hawaiian comfort food. This humble little cafeteria—order at the counter and then plant yourself—is part of Ben Dyer’s burgeoning Simpatica/Laurelhurst Market empire which automatically gives it the local foodie seal of approval. The decor is subtle: there are surf-shack knickknacks scattered hither and yon, and the walls are painted sea-of-tranquility blue. And that’s about it. But the dough they didn’t spend on ambiance is passed along to you, the hungry customer. There’s nothing on the menu over $10.95 and the portions are tsunami-sized.

Three kalua pork sliders for $5.

Happy Hour is from 4-6 daily and includes a half-dozen delightful plates ($2-5) that can be passed around luau style. Five dollars gets you five ample Korean chicken drumsticks that require an acre or two of napkins to keep your kisser clean. The smoldering chili marinade is augmented with pepper and a gentle brush-stroke of teriyaki sweetness that ensures leisurely finger-licking with each bite. The spam musubi tempura ($2) is an island version of sushi, with a tempura batter-fried shell of rice protecting a core of egg and spam. It comes with thousand-island dipping sauce—apply liberally. There are two varieties of sliders (three for $5), namely kalua pork and shoyu chicken. They were out of the chicken during my second visit (sad face emoticon) but the succulent and generously piled pig was a worthy consolation prize.

Needless to say, you can eschew the appetizers and saddle up for a full entree if you so desire. The Loco Moco ($10.95) is a substantial and highly authentic example of Hawaiian-plate cuisine, with a hamburger patty, rice, fried eggs, and a coat of Shiitake gravy heaped in beguiling fashion onto a very crowded dish. The saimin ($8.95), is like a Hawaiian pho; a vast bowl of noodles swimming in a sea of shrimp, chicken, and pork broth bolstered with reefs of fish cake, pork belly, and eggs. The ebb and flow of flavors is relentless and requires some meditation to sort out the sweet, salty, and sour sensations. The kalua pig ($8.95) is a happy mound of smoked and roasted pork shoulder that manages to be both light and luscious.

And an icy bucket of Hawaiian beer to wash it down.

And let’s not overlook the liquid refreshments. The mai tai ($8 in a pint glass) offers an instant blast of sweetness that’s brought back to earth thanks to the tangy fresh pineapple juice, while the light and dark rums mingle most effectively. It’s probably the tastiest tropical drink I’ve bought since my last island sojourn. There’s also PROG (passion fruit, rum, orange, and guava) and a traditional Dark and Stormy (dark rum and ginger beer) for about the same price. If you’ve got a group in tow, then a five-bottle bucket of Primo ($10), a surprisingly full-bodied Hawaiian lager, is a smart option. The modestly hopped brew does wonders for rinsing your palate clean of chili paste, peppers, and the ever-present tide of teriyaki.

During my second visit, my friends and I wiled away the entire two hours, sharing plates, drinks, and scintillating stories, completely indifferent to the stormy weather pattern that was developing outside. When you have such a winning variety of spicy dishes, full of exotically bold flavor combinations laid out at your table, conjuring up a little tropical paradise of your very own is child’s play.

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Tags: Happy Hour, Cocktails, Cheap Eats, Ben Dyer, Ate Oh Ate, Tropical Bars

First Impressions

Catching up with the latest locals

Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 04, 2010 at 11:00AM 9 Comments

Girl-drink drunks should adore the cocktails at Hamburger Mary’s.

So many bars, so little time to linger. Rest assured drinking buddies, that I have been scrambling like Fran Tarkenton trying to patronize as many of Portland’s newly minted watering holes as is humanly possible. At this point I’m strongly considering the formation of a Bar Pilot street team to keep me apprised on bar openings and closings. It’s just too much for one simple man (and heaven knows I’m nothing if not simple). Now that I’m done wallowing in self-pity I’ll attempt to give you an idea of the places I’ve been, the drinks I’ve drunk, and the drunks I’ve met.

Circa 33 The two bars that have taken over the SE Belmont space of It’s a Beautiful Pizza may be joined at the hip, but they cater to different clienteles. Circa 33 is the tonier of the two, and indeed it bears a striking resemblance to North 45 (same ownership) a NW spot that’s built a loyal following through a combination of kitchen competence, a prodigious selection of exotic beer and spirits, and neighborhood pub bonhomie. The lofty wall of liquor behind the bar is a welcome touch, a smart way to let customers know that they’re serious about spirits. My pot roast sandwich on a hoagie ($10.50) was expertly cooked and the horseradish cleared my sinuses in nothing flat. Circa 33 seems to be walking a line between casual drinking joint (despite the lengthy list of pre-Prohibition cocktails like the Corpse Reviver and the Monkey Gland) and destination dining. Thumbs down to the bartender’s taste in music. Pssst! It’s been scientifically proven that no one actually likes smooth jazz.

Hall of Records The bohemian younger brother of Circa 33, is the Hall of Records, a modest hole in the wall that offers patrons the opportunity to peruse and sample sounds from a decent catalog of vintage jazz, funk, and reggae vinyl while sipping some excellent regional suds from Laurelwood, Upright, and more. Basically, it’s a hipster version of Pop’s Chok’lit Shoppe with a couple couches and handy turntables. Eats are limited to the ubiquitous salads and sammies.

The Globe Another Belmont newbie that alternates between empty and chockablock with condo swingers from across the street for whom it serves as a Regal Beagle-type hook-up parlor. You already know the layout: an open garage door leads to a gently artified industrial rumpus room complete with shelves full of board games. The food/drink choices are abundant (three menus!), but don’t overlook the house specialty pizzas. They’re surprisingly light and chewy (dough made daily!) with scads of artisan options for carnivore and veg-head alike. Happy hour from 3-6 and 10 to close.

Diggin’ the Kenny G at Circa 33.

Hamburger Mary’s The abundance of “flair” here reminds me of a cross between a downmarket TGI Friday’s and a more flamboyant Bob’s Big Boy. The burgers are impressively hefty (though a bit pricey at $8-13). Happy hour is 3-6 daily which covers $1 off cocktails and appetizers. Drinks are large, easy drinking, and apparently geared toward sorority-house lushes. And for $5 you can cram a trio of fried Twinkies with raspberry puree and whipped cream into your pie hole. Do it.

Star Bar My friend Lucy and I were the only customers when we stopped in the other night, but the former home of Maiden in the Mist on SE Morrison has the same funky decor (including black velvet paintings) and non-brooding darkness that’s made Dot’s such a perennial favorite. According to Josh the manager, everything from the kitchen is derived from the freshest and healthiest ingredients. That’s cool, but I’m even more excited by the prices—nothing over $9.50. The sliders ($3, but only $1.50 during Happy Hour 4-7) come in classic beef, Caribbean pork, and white bean and potato varieties. The first two were sensational, but the veggie version was Mush City. Someone on the menu planning committee is a rock nerd: all the cocktails are named for Big Star songs; Back of a Car, Mod Lang, September Gurls, etc. And that means extra points in my book!

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Tags: Bar Openings, Southeast, Hamburger Mary's, Circa 33, Star Bar, Hall of Records, The Globe