Portlandia, Part 3by brandon / May 24, 2012
Editor's Note: In this fourth installment (the third numbered one), guest blogger Brandon Plyler continues his log of Portland debauchery. Check out his previous installments here. Check out his Facebook page, Old Time's Beer Picks, here. He's even gotten on the Twitter since his last blog post - follow him @NoSassBack. It's never been easier to get some Old Time in your life! -ETP
As threatened, the continuation!
Hair of The Dog almost killed us. However, the real rollercoaster of the evening starts when dehydration and strange booze-fueled dreams follow you into the bathroom at 4 a.m. Actually, 5 a.m. Damn Daylight Savings Time! Shower: super long and super steamy + a visit from my trip sponsor, Alka-Selter! By noon-thirty we’re out the door and into a blustery suit of gray weather.
Quite possibly the coolest of the unexpected stops on this trip. Tucked into the corner of a hotel wildly out of my price range is a specialty shop dedicated to one of the few legal substances left that make you feel like a million. "Drink Chocolate" references the Mayan "drink of the Gods" in a warm demitasse. Rich, high-percentage cacao, liquified and mixed with cinnamon and spices, helped along by a side-car shot of fresh pulled espresso. Combined with a healthy walk and deep breaths of fresh air, everything comes back into focus.
“Cold-Blooded Killers Everywhere You Go, Cold-Blooded Killers Whaddayaknow?”
...as mumbled by a homeless man as his bicycle slices our path into the Deschutes Brewpub. Dungeness crab served lobster-roll style in warm buttered bread bathed in some mayonnaise derivative makes the tummy smile. A quick glance at the beer list makes the liver wince. 20 ounces of Bachelor Bitter (5.3% ABV, XX, 89) from the cask shows up before the food, and my head starts to agree with the liver about a mouthful in. Bachelor is served here through a tap with a sparkler attachment. This device whips up the familiar creamy thick head of a nitro-poured beer. Many purists would argue that this robs the beer of some body definition and aroma. I might be a purist. When our server returns with a half-pint of a Pinot Noir barrel-aged Jubeale (XX) we inquire into what non-booze-related activities a young gentleman would pass the time with in Portland. Taken aback by being asked this question for the first time, he defers to a co-worker. We are recommended a few parks and Powell’s Used Books. Forty-one degrees and gross-snow-raining, you can guess where we went.
It’s agreed that fresh air and perhaps a little sweat will be just the thing to quiet the Leprechaun attempting to kick his way out of my skull. Starting uphill from 12th street, we march past vintage Mercedes and pale-skinned beauties not in the mood for my nonsense up to 23th street. This is the nice part of town; ethnic restaurants, but not ones attached to laundromats. These serve green-tea infused smoothie devices - maybe they sacrficed some authenticity? Only 10 blocks and three Mcmenamins Pubs away is (or was) the New-Old Lompoc brewpub. Cozy booths and small glasses of nitro-poured LSD (Lompoc Strong Draft - 6.9% ABV, 86, 91) offer much comfort. The pub was listing severely when we were there, and has since been torn down. Mcmenamin’s Tavern and Pool begs all tourists to sit in for a drink. After sampling a few goaty/infected beers I opt for a 14 year-old Oban neat to combat what could be living in the glass. Easily one of the eeriest, tuck your pants into your socks bars I’ve been to. Ceilings and walls are adorned with cartoonish Old West décor that seems stolen from some nightmarish steak house that was running around in my mind around 4 a.m. Actually, 5 a.m.