Posted by: Mac Pogue on Mar 19, 2012 at 01:00PM3 Comments
On Friday, after a reported three-hour deliberation, the Oregon Liquor Control Commission unanimously approved a liquor license for the Cartlandia food cart pod at the intersection of the Springwater Corridor and Southeast 82nd Avenue. Weary travelers can now settle down at the self-proclaimed “bike-central” cart pod and enjoy a beer with their meal, between the hours of 10am and 10pm, Monday – Thursday, and 10am to 11pm on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
The OLCC has historically never granted annual liquor licenses to food carts (the Captured by Porches brewery cart on SE Division has apparently slipped by on a technicality), but Cartlandia’s fenced-in beer garden and willingness to hire alcohol monitors gave it a leg up. Although OLCC’s licensing director Farshad Allahdadi made it clear in an interview on Friday that the Cartlandia approval does not set a precedent for food carts and liquor licenses, he did predict that the number of applications from food carts will rise.
While Mayor Sam Adams deems the license to be a harbinger of a Portland filled with booze-slinging food carts, Allahdadi assured the public that the OLCC’s chief concern remains “public safety and impact on community livability.” A walled-in beer garden with strict serving hours and alcohol monitors offers just about the same amount of control that any brick-and-mortar restaurant does, so how does hizzoner envision this food-cart-booze-fueled apocalypse? Even though there are 700 food carts, Allahdadi didn’t seem to be worried about a deluge of applications, and he certainly doesn’t foresee all 700 being granted liquor licenses. “I wouldn’t anticipate that we would see a tremendous flood from this decision,” he added, offhandedly addressing the Mayor’s concerns.
Whatever the future of Portland’s relationship with improvised restaurants and spirits, you can now soon order a beer at Cartlandia. Cheers!
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.
Posted by: John Chandler on Nov 12, 2010 at 11:00AM13 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.
In his twenty-plus years as a roving journalist and his forty-plus years as a native Oregonian, Portland Monthly web editor John Chandler has developed an appreciation for a properly stirred cocktail, all manner of beer, smoky single malt scotch, and the odd moment of clarity. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamed of in your philosophy,” is his pet quote, and he’ll break it out whether the occasion calls for it or not. Rock ‘n’ roll snob, film geek, and cultural kibitzer, Chandler can usually be found perched on a local bar stool muttering to himself about “the good old days” when he was always on the @#$%&!* guest list. Approach with caution.
Bar Pilot navigates from dingy dive bars to ritzy schmooze-and-booze affairs to brain-melting rock shows, and points of interest in between. Chandler will do his utmost to jot down keen observations, hopefully inspire a few barroom arguments, and guide his readers through another night on the rocks.
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