BAR PILOT

Five Things a Bar Must Have

What are the most essential amenities for a positive drinking-out experience?

Posted by: John Chandler on Apr 22, 2011 at 12:00PM 11 Comments

As a marginally noteworthy local personality I get asked the same questions over and over. The first one is, “What’s your favorite bar?” to which I give a long string of confusing and contradictory answers. (Covering your tracks has never been more important. They can track us anywhere!) The second question is, “What do you look for in a bar?” To me, this is a much more complicated query. Are you asking me what I, the Bar Pilot, look for? Or are you asking me as a reliable barometer for the rest of humanity? I can’t take this kind of pressure!

I’m going to go ahead and list five things a proper bar should have if they want my business on a regular basis, but this list says more about me than it does the rest of human race.

1. Local spirits and brews. I’ll drink in a laundromat (and I have!) if it has a respectable number of regional taps and at least pays lip service to Portland’s artisan distillers.

2. A reasonable noise level. Whether it’s the bartender’s iPod, the crappy folksinger in the corner, the TV, or the jukebox, noise should never impede conversation. Obviously this does not apply to music venues. For more on this subject…

3. A range of price options. I love plunking down my hard-earned coin for a fancy pants cocktail as much as anyone, but I have to know that I can retreat to the safety of a reasonably priced tap beer if my funds are drying up. It’s only common sense.

4. Atmosphere. This answer is kind of a cheat, because it includes lighting, service, and an x-factor (decor, design, furnishings, feng shui) that reveals that some thought about patron comfort went into the room layout. For more on this subject…

5. Decent chow. I generally don’t go to a bar with the intention of eating, but if I’m hanging out and having a good time, I want to know that the food base is covered by something other than a frozen burger patty slapped onto a fly encrusted grill.

Yes, there are tons of other factors to consider. I can even put up with slow service as long as the staff is amiable. But now I want to hear from you, drinking buddies. Let’s talk about the bees in your bonnet. Tell me what needs you have that need to be met in order to guarantee a return visit. Let’s build the definitive list so that we can distribute it to publicans all over the city to ensure our satisfaction. World peace and contentment will surely follow.

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Tags: Bar Culture, Bar Research

Gather Darkness

The Lovecraft: A weird watering hole

Posted by: John Chandler on Feb 28, 2011 at 11:00AM 5 Comments

Photo: John Chandler

Welcome… to the dark side!

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Welcome… to the dark side!

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H.P. Lovecraft framed as Che Guevara.

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Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtan

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Arcane symbols abound!

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An impressive collection of Lovecraftiana.

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Even the tequila is sinister!

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Bar hardware adds to the vintage vibe.

A while back I went on a rant rampage about bars lacking in atmosphere. To summarize, the problem with a new joint is its very newness, or lack of a “vibe.” There’s no history, much less the feeling that the owner even cared about such immaterial matters. It’s a room with booze in it. Isn’t that enough?

No. Like I always say, if I want to drink in an unremarkable room, I’ve got my house. Or I could just pick up a bottle of something cheap and party with my friends under a bridge. I’ve got my precious dives, my little pockets of Old Portland, but they’re getting harder and harder to find in the face of growing homogenization. In other words, expect lots more industrial spaces with loading-dock doors and exposed ducts. Gawd, I’m bored. Enter The Lovecraft.

It’s on SE Grand Avenue next to a consignment furniture store and the only indication of its existence is a little chalkboard sandwich sign embellished with a pentagram. The interior—draped in reds and blacks—looks like it’s made entirely of reclaimed timber and repurposed objects (the bar itself is decorated with brass locks and trunk hardware). The walls are chockablock with old magazine covers featuring early 20th century weird-fiction writer H.P. Lovecraft, photographs, and assorted horror movie memorabilia. There is a live scorpion in a tank on the bar. It sleeps most of the time. There is a mural of tentacles emerging from the clouds. “Ah,” you say to yourself. It’s a Goth bar." Yes and no.

Bartender Dani tells me there is indeed a Goth night at The Lovecraft. “But isn’t every night Goth night?” I ask. Apparently not. There is also metal night, psychobilly night, and karaoke night. One of my early misconceptions about Goth culture is that it’s members are all sheet-pale Cure fans who occasionally assemble in order to have someone to mope with. Wrong! The community itself is quite inviting and open to anyone that digs horror films and literature, neo-paganism (tribal tats and piercings) vintage clothing, and shoe-gaze music—or to those who simply find beauty in things that most of us folks in the mundane world consider dark and disturbing. In fact, they revel in it. Of course, the place would be a stone drag if everyone here took themselves painfully seriously, but the people I encountered were affable and accommodating.

By day, The Lovecraft is a low-key tea shop (never fear, you can still get drinks) and minors are allowed until 5 p.m. (I’m told the tea selection is respectable.) At this point, there is no Happy Hour (Dreaded Hour?) and the food is limited to tamales and Japanese hand rolls. But a session at The Lovecraft is like a visit to Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe. There’s an abundance of visual stimuli, and the presence of outre pieces that fall somewhere between art and collectible kitsch ensure there’s always an engaging nook for your eyes to land upon. After spending far too much time in nondescript bars, The Lovecraft is like Disneyland. Go on! Drop in! Or are you a chicken? Bwaaak, buk-buk, bwaaak!

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Tags: Bar Openings, Bar Culture, Southeast, H.P. Lovecraft

Drinking Days Ahead

Beer, gin, rum, and more beer

Posted by: John Chandler on Aug 04, 2010 at 01:00PM 4 Comments

Yep, the major beer festivals are behind us, but fear not! There’s still plenty of opportunity to get your drink on and behave like a jackass this month.

Tomorrow (August 5) is International Beer Day. The video below explains this holiday’s mysterious origins. (Mild language)

Coincidentally, tomorrow is also the Hop & Vine’s two-year anniversary. How fortuitous! From 3 till closing, this butt-kicking little bistro will have live music, wine and cocktail specials, bangers and mash, and at least two extra-awesome beers available: Breakside Brewing’s Gator Boots Gose and Upright’s Old Barrel-Aged Apricot ale. And if all that fails to motivate you, be advised there will be cupcakes. Should be a blast. Owner and photogenic bartender Yetta Vorobik knows how to throw a party.

Still haven’t had enough carousing with your fellow brew believer? Then Saturday’s Fremont Fest Pub Crawl has your name on it. Between noon and 4 PM, you can plunk down $10 for a tasting mug and five tokens ($1 for additional tokens) that will buy you some craft beer samples from Double Mountain, Hopworks, Alameda Brewing, Upright, and Laurelwood at various stops along NE Fremont between 40th and 50th Avenue.

I confess that thanks to Food Network shows like Chopped and Iron Chef, I’ve become fairly obsessed with culinary competition. Like-minded nosh nerds will want to plop themselves on a stool at Couture Ultra Lounge next Monday night (August 9) at 8 for Bombay Sapphire’s Most Inspired Bartender challenge, where an A-list of local mixologists will brandish their swizzle sticks. The winner will represent Portland in the finals of this event being held in Las Vegas at the end of the month. Among the esteemed participants are Ricky Gomez from Teardrop Lounge; Urban Farmer’s Lance Mayhew; Mark Joseph from El Gaucho; and 50 Plates bartender JP Pierce, who tells me he’ll be preparing an Oregon Crusta (a traditional New Orleans cocktail), with gin and a fresh strawberry puree.

And finally, Monday, August 16 is National Rum Day. So go someplace and drink some rum. What, I have to plan everything? Try a little spontaneity for once in your life!

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Tags: Beer, Bar Culture, Gin, Rum, bar, bars

Set ’Em Up, Joe

Tell me about your bartender

Posted by: John Chandler on Jun 22, 2010 at 11:00AM 7 Comments

Just got through perusing an article by bartender/writer Karl Kozel in the Huffington Post about the primary responsibilities of a good bartender. Kozel believes, and rightly so, that there’s more to the business than being able to concoct a drink with 11 ingredients.

Kozel recalls the past fondly: “…twenty or thirty years ago, good drinks were made, but the bartenders also had personalities, and many were unique characters. They were fast, facile, knowledgeable about current events, business, the arts, and were pretty good with their fists if they had to be. Thank god the era of fisticuffs is behind us for the most part, but you get the picture.”

Is this an accurate memory or is Kozel perhaps missing a movie cliché that simply does not exist? You know, that dapper fella who always knew what you were drinking and who let you run a tab when times were tight. The garrulous Irishman with a hearty laugh and a million stories. The wise-cracking sports statistic machine. The soulful ex-bar fly with better advice than Ann Landers. I spend time in a lot of bars and for the most part, the bartenders in this town are a fairly laconic bunch who go about their business promptly and professionally. Sure, they’ll gab for a bit about the Blazers or the weather or whatever, but their presence is usually required in about 50 other places, so conversations tend to be brief. For that matter, if I’m at a bar I’ve most likely brought my own company to banter with, or, if I’m alone, I prefer to stay that way.

Discuss drinking buddies: Do you appreciate a chatty bartender? Should they instinctively be like cab drivers and barbers and be able to hold up their end of a conversation on demand? Or do you just want the drink and no gab? Tell me about your favorite bartenders, local, factual, or idealized. As for me, I was always a big fan of Miss Laura May Carroll at the Matador, a veteran drink slinger who could talk your leg off about her pet mountain lion, if you wanted to listen—and if not, that was fine too. But she always remembered what I was drinking.

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Tags: Cocktails, Bar Culture

Pedal-pabooza

Take a distillery tour by bike

Posted by: John Chandler on Jun 08, 2010 at 01:00PM 9 Comments

I’ll be discreetly hammered in the passenger seat.

I like my bike, I really do. And one of the many splendored things I heart about Portland is our enthusiasm for making two-wheeled transportation part of our commuting routine. Bicycling is terrific exercise and considering the precarious state of fossil fuel consumption it makes sense on a number of ecological levels.

By the way, I would appreciate it if this post didn’t degenerate into another forum for angry citizens to go off on tirades about smug, inconsiderate cyclists hogging the road or their arch enemies who paint little bikes on their Hummers every time they run somebody down while prowling around belching carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. On the other hand, I’m a shameless web-traffic whore, so if you really must vent, have at it. Just keep it clean, kids!

Anyways, Pedalpalooza kicks off this week, and for the next fortnight, there’s going to be all kinds of cycle-themed merriment springing up all over town. Hooray! But there’s a problem, you see. My free time revolves around the consumption of alcohol, and after getting doored, run over, and slamming into parked cars that mysteriously materialize out of thin air, I’ve rethought my position and decided that drinking and cycling don’t mix—unless someone else is doing the pedaling.

Jonathan Magnus, the head man at PDX Pedicab, conducts weekly pedicab tours of local distilleries down in industrial South East Portland. Every Saturday between 1 PM – 5 PM thirsty sightseers can take a 90-minute cycle safari that includes stops—and sample sips—at House Spirits, New Deal Distillery, and Integrity Spirits. You have to book a seat in advance at the website, and a typical tour will include room for no more than 12 guests aboard 4 cabs. This excursion usually costs $40 a head, but if you check into Groupon Portland tomorrow (Wednesday) Magnus tells me there will be a Groupon for half off a PDX Pedicab distillery tour. Am I going? Hell to the yeah! I only hope my pedicabbie will be kind enough to bike me home after I’ve passed out, rather than just abandon me in a Honey Bucket, like last time. Whew! Once was enough.

Bikes, booze, and a breath of fresh air. I love Portland. I love Portland. I love Portland.

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Tags: Sports, Bar Culture, bicycle, portland bicycle, portland bike

May I Drink with Danger?

Let’s hear about the scariest dives in Portland—and elsewhere.

Posted by: John Chandler on Jun 19, 2009 at 09:00AM 6 Comments

As I was hiking down W Burnside Street on my way to work yesterday, I had to pause for a moment at the former entrance to Dugo’s, a seedy little dive that shut its doors more than a year ago. I popped in once in the early part of the century to check the place out after hearing so many tall tales. “If there’s a woman in there, she’s either a prostitute or a crackhead,” one of my long-lost drinking buddies said.

“Most likely both,” someone else told me. “And the clientele is 100 percent parolees. You better watch your step. And for God’s sake, don’t use the bathroom. You’ll never be seen again.”

I must have picked an off-day because it was pretty sleepy when I arrived, just after 5 p.m. A lot of old-timers were sucking on cheap beers, and the bartender was arguing with a bleached-blonde woman who looked like she’d come in for a drink after her weekly electroshock therapy. In other words, it could have been any bar, anywhere, at any time.

I’ve had drinks in some scary joints, mostly in the vicinity of my hometown of Coos Bay (and a few in Kodiak, Alaska). Word to the wise: It’s not a good idea to visit Red’s Tavern in Charleston, Oregon, and ask to see a wine list. (I managed to duck out while the two biker gangs present rumbled over who was going to have the privilege of stomping me.) I once cracked my head on the floor in the men’s room at the Nugget (located in the lobby of the Greyhound station in Coos Bay) after slipping in a pool of blood left over from a tryst between a prostitute and a dissatisfied customer who felt entitled to a refund.

I say this not because I’m trying to firm up my Charles Bukowski drinking credentials (well, maybe a little), but because I want to make a point about the difference between a bar with a nasty reputation and a bar with a well-deserved nasty reputation.

Let’s have some dangerous bar stories, drinking buddies. And if you know of any legitimately scary bars around these parts, please share.

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Tags: Bar Culture

High Five For Jeffrey!

Playboy recognizes talent

Posted by: John Chandler on May 04, 2009 at 10:00AM 1 Comments

Jeffrey Morgenthaler in action!

Can I pick ’em or what? Less than a week after my chat with Clyde Common bar manager Jeffrey Morgenthaler about the wonders of St Germain elderflower liqueur, the man himself is named one of the 10 top mixologists in the country by Playboy magazine. I had no idea my humble blog had that kind of influence, even though Hef and I go back a long way. Early on, he tried to bring me on board this whole Playboy thing, but I told him in no uncertain terms, “Hugh, I love you man, but lounging around in my robe with a passel of pulchritudinous gals in their unmentionables—what kind of life is that? I mean, really?”

Congratulations to the esteemed Mr. Morgenthaler and may your martinis always be dry as Death Valley.

I was not going to run this lousy photo of Jeffrey (he just wouldn’t hold still while he was making my drink) but under the circumstances we’ll give quality control the day off.

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Tags: Cocktails, Bar Culture

Clothes Minded

Nuts! I knew I should have rented a tux!

Posted by: John Chandler on Apr 20, 2009 at 02:00PM 19 Comments

I guess it’s back to the Sandy Hut…

Photos by Me

Bummer. I meant to go check out this bar in Old Town called Dirty over the weekend. It’s apparently got a trapeze! I was curious to see if the circus theme carried over to any other aspects of the business plan. Bouncer clowns? Ringmaster DJ? Waitresses bearing drinks on the backs of trained horses? Unfortunately, the sign at the door revealed one of the most draconian dress codes I’ve ever seen!

Let’s see, where to begin: I was wearing shorts. I had on tennis shoes. Worst of all, I was flying a solid-color T-shirt! Clearly this upstanding organization does not care for “my sort.” But you know, I’m used to it. As a paunchy, near-sighted Caucasian male, I’ve been battling this kind of discrimination my whole life. Too bad. I really wanted to try a slice of Dirty Pie. Yep, it’s obviously too classy a joint for the likes of me.

No word on whether the pizza uses locally sourced meat and veggies.

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Tags: Bar Culture, Downtown Bars

Smells Like Clean Spirit

After playing in smoky dives for the last 25 years, my lungs are breathing a sigh of relief.

Posted by: John Chandler on Apr 13, 2009 at 04:00PM 20 Comments

Get your butts outta here!

Just a few items from a big rock weekend.

In case you missed it, my band, Giant Bug Village, tore it up at the East End on Saturday night, along with Tigerbomb and Pure Country Gold. Three cool bands, no cover.

The East End is a really fun club and I’ll tell you why. It’s got three different rooms for hanging out. Four if you count the smokers’ tables out front, and five if you count the long, long line to the bathroom. Six if you count the photo booth! Also, the sound in the brick rathskellar is superb. Instead of the usual sonic suck-fest, I could hear every note from my bandmates which greatly improves one’s performance.

Also, the East End serves 24-ounce cans of Pabst and Tecate, which makes for an ideal stage beer while you’re playing. Instead of having to keep track of a couple pint glasses—one of which will eventually topple and spill into my amp—I have all the suds I need in one sturdy can. If you need more than a pounder-and-a-half to keep you lubricated through a 35-minute set, a few weeks of drying-out time might be in order. Unless you’re our singer Stan McMahon, in which case one beer per song is about par for the course.

But my greatest discovery of all was how much I love the smoking ban. At the end of a five-hour night my lungs were still robust and functioning perfectly. Used to be, I’d be coughing and hacking for three days after a show, a condition we referred to as “club lung.” Better still, my GF doesn’t banish me to the couch for stinking like an ashtray.

What do you think drinking buddies? Has the lack of ciggie smoke adversely affected your bar-hopping experience? Or are your lungs still thanking you for all that pure, untainted oxygen?

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Tags: Bar Culture, Southeast

Say Again?

Yo, barkeep! Give Ted Nugent the night off!

Posted by: John Chandler on Mar 24, 2009 at 09:15AM 9 Comments

Attention bartenders and bar managers: on behalf of everyone in the known universe, I’d like to respectfully request that you turn your music down to a conversational level.

Last night I was working my way through a pint of Hopworks Lager at Gold Dust Meridian, when it occurred to me that I was losing every other word spoken to me by my friend Anne Marie (happy birthday!). Normally, I just shrug, smile, and continue to nod my head emphatically at the appropriate dialogue gaps. See, my hearing isn’t the greatest under optimal conditions. I’ve been playing bass in bar bands for more than 20 years, and this stratagem has resulted in about a 15 percent hearing loss. Not only that, I still listen to heavy metal and punk on a daily basis. Fine. You make your choices and you live with them. Curse you, Celtic Frost!

However, Anne Marie was having trouble hearing me, too. As far as I know, her hearing is flawless. So why were we both shouting?

Because the bartender (or other authority figure in the back) was blasting the tunes. On a Monday night. I don’t know if it was the bar iPod or the jukebox, but it was effin’ cranked to eleven! And this isn’t the first time my “relaxing” evening out has been hijacked by some employee’s infinite playlist.

I understand that music adds to a convivial atmosphere and general sense of merriment that induces the clientele to roister just a a little bit harder, to perhaps throw caution to the wind and order another sazerac. On a Monday night.

However, if listening to music was my ultimate goal, I would be at a venue where rawkin’ out was the primary attraction. I would be at the Roseland having my eardrums obliterated by Motorhead, or whatever ensemble happened to be in town that night. But when I go to a neighborhood watering hole for a beer (on a Monday night), my mission is to share pleasantries with my pals. Vent. Unwind. Palaver. Shoot the bull. That sort of thing. This can be difficult to do when the bartender is going through an ironic Journey phase.

At this point, feel free to make disparaging comments about my advanced years. “Just turn down your hearing aid,” or “Don’t bring your ear trumpet to the bar with you, Grampa,” are both excellent. But I know the difference between loud music and LOUD MUSIC. This same situation came up at the Sway Bar a few weeks ago as well. Hardly anyone in the place, and the bartender (or other authority figure in the back) is laboring under the illusion that what a table full of chatty customers wants, more than another Makers and soda, more than free beer nuts, is to be introduced to the sonic wonders of Shellac or Slipknot, to the point where an amiable exchange between comrades becomes an aural impossibility. Our party of eight ended up walking down the street to the Morrison Hotel where we weren’t being pummeled by somebody’s “extreme” musical tastes.

OK, give me some feedback here. Am I being unreasonable? It wouldn’t be the first time. I was an alternate on the 1996 Olympic unreasonable team. When I get a bee in my bonnet, I’m worse than Andy Rooney after his third Red Bull. Should I simply take my business elsewhere? Or can I use this blog to make a braying ass out of myself the way God and Al Gore intended?

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Tags: music, Bar Culture