Advertisement

BAR PILOT

Posts tagged with: Festivals

Main Content Skip to Sidebar and Blog Navigation
Festival Notes

Distill My Heart

A crowd gathers at the Distillers Festival

Email
Distillers1

Absinthe? Don’t mind if I do!

It wasn’t quite a lost weekend, but I spent Saturday at the sixth annual Great American Distillers Festival taking place at the Tiffany Center on SW Morrison. A packed house of some 400 spirit enthusiasts glided to and fro, tasting tiny tipples of everything from absinthe to Zante grape liqueur. More than 50 vendors had set up shop which made it difficult to navigate the room without over-sampling. It was like Costco except the more I samples I tried, the happier I felt. Happiness, as everyone knows, is not an emotion normally associated with an afternoon at Costco. Just sayin’.

Ransom Spirits, the local purveyors of a very respectable Old Tom Gin, introduced the world to its new Whipper Snapper whiskey, a modestly aged and barely civilized blend that’s a bit unruly, but settles down nicely with the help of an ice cube or two. Pacific Distillery from Woondinville, Washington, proffered a sinfully smooth absinthe that will be right at home in my next sazerac. And I could well imagine myself getting into all kinds of mischief courtesy of Firefly Distillery’s (Charleston, SC) dangerously yummy sweet tea bourbon.

Of course, some of these daring drinks should be filed under “failed experiment.” New Holland’s (Holland, MI) “Hopquila” comes to mind. It was, as my mom used to say, “interesting.” Nuff said.

I also rubbed elbows with local distillers like Christian Krogstad from House Spirits as well as his former business partner Lee Medoff, who’s branching out with his own Bull Run Distillery brand. Reps from New Deal, Rogue, and McMenamins also were present and busy pouring their little hearts out. Perhaps the biggest surprise was the abundance of tequila merchants. Tequila fans had more than two-dozen varieties to savor. Sadly, there wasn’t a piñata in sight.

While the rest of us mingled and mused, the PDX Cocktail Invitational was taking place on stage, with 19 mixologists from up and down the West Coast squaring off in friendly competition, shaking up intriguing cocktails for a panel of judges and members of the public. The few entries I got to taste were superb. I was pulling for Park Kitchen’s Adam Robinson, who came up with a jaw-droppingly tangy mixture of Corrida tequila and blackberry root, but in the end, Ali Tahsini from San Francisco’s Bourbon & Branch took top honors for his Bell-Pepper sour, which he threw together in a Chopped-inspired showdown where the four finalists were asked to construct a cocktail from boxes of mystery ingredients. For the locals, Tommy Klus and Art Tierce from Bluehour placed third and fourth respectively. Way to represent, lads! As for you out-of-town hotshots? Just wait till next year.

Now where the hell did we park?

Add a Comment »

Tags: Cocktails, Festivals, Bartenders, Bartender Competition, House Spirits, Park Kitchen, Medoyeff Vodka

Festival notes

The Pirate’s Life

Intern Geoff Earl serves as a buccaneer bouncer at the Portland Pirate Festival

Email
Piratea
Photo: Geoff Earl

It was an awesome gathering of pirates, but no record.

View Slideshow » Photo: Geoff Earl

It was an awesome gathering of pirates, but no record.

View Slideshow » Photo: Geoff Earl

Despite foul weather enthusiasm could not be dampened.

View Slideshow » Photo: Geoff Earl

Make that fowl weather.

View Slideshow » Photo: Geoff Earl

With nary a doubloon in sight, many a stout-hearted seaman was forced to improvise.

View Slideshow » Photo: Geoff Earl

“Arrrr! Me parrot flew the coop!”

View Slideshow » Photo: Geoff Earl

Pirates on parade!

View Slideshow » Photo: Geoff Earl

Yo ho ho and a bottle of … regional craft beer?

When I got the call from the temp agency, and the voice on the other end asked me if I wanted to be a bouncer (“alcohol monitor” was the actual job title) at the Portland Pirate Festival, I had to say yes. It was just too strange an opportunity to pass up. For two days I would make sure that thousands of reveling pirates conformed to Oregon Liquor Control Commission drinking laws.

What had I gotten myself into? Having never been to a pirate festival, and knowing nothing about the people that attend them, my imagination vacillated between a Caribbean version of the Society for Creative Anachronism and a seafarer’s Sturgis.

I arrived at Cathedral Park in St Johns early Saturday morning and instead of a long red coat and musket, I was issued a bright yellow T-shirt with the words “alcohol monitor” emblazoned across the back. Rumors were circulating about an astronomical number of scurvy dogs gathering under the St. Johns Bridge in an attempt to establish a world record for pirates assembled in one spot. As ill-forutne would have it, the effort fell just short, but I was still impressed by the high turnout—especially considering it was raining buckets.

I spent my tour of duty wagging a finger at an army of rum-guzzling scalawags strapped to the gills with swords, whips, flintlocks, daggers, belaying pins, blunderbusses, and harpoons, putting a stop to overt drunkenness and contraband alcohol smuggling (the things pirates enjoy most of all). Fortunately for me, while festival pirates are infatuated with vintage gear, they’re not gun freaks or re-enactors (although the smell of black powder and the roar of cannon fire did get the their riggings in a bunch).

For most of Saturday I stood in the rain in front of Oberon’s Tavern (the festival beer garden), where my charges were captains all, mostly men with big hats and ornately decorated coats who told tales of far-away pirate festivals to maiden and wench alike. It turns out you don’t need much of a crew to pilot a motor home or fly coach (though first mates and li’l swashbucklers accompanied many captains courageous). Thankfully, the beer-garden buccaneers were more Ren Faire than rebel biker gang.

It could’ve been so different (i.e., worse). After all, the biggest part of a pirate’s pirate-ness is his or her voracious appetite for rum, grog, and ale. Even a sober pirate has to act the part, and pirates act drunk and crazy. (Not to mention, Sunday was National Talk Like A Pirate Day.) There are no exceptions—not even for the young or the lily-livered. When asked, many a boisterous buccaneer would drop his faux-English accent and politely reply, “I’m not drinking. I’m just being a pirate.”

Add a Comment »

Tags: Festivals, Portland Pirate Festival, St Johns

Advertisement