bars

The Inhale

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A chilly night, but not as chilly as it will eventually be. I’ve decided a thin-but-thermal cotton hoodie, t-shirt, and sudra will do as I get out to unwind on my Saturday. I’m at the Beer Bus, of course- I felt the need to gently socialize, and the bartender on weekends is a cool guy, but we don’t know each other quite well enough to chit-chat. I’ll bother him for a beer, do a little small talk, then I know he’ll go into his own world and chat with more regular customers while I do my thing. I get to just observe, drink some good beer, and write a bit.

A place that takes care to curate their beer offerings is worth hanging around…
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The Old Men and the Seafood

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I started out the door with a simple idea- “Find a place with food and a beer, sit down, do some writing, come home and hide from the sun to edit.” That’s always the plan for at least one of my days off. Brilliant blog posts, scintillating wit, and scathing social criticism don’t just fall out of the sky, you know.

I love my wife, my cat, and my friends very much, but I’ve also had a lot of time (and put a lot of work into) enjoying my own company. That’s why, at some point every weekend and even on vacation, I try to make a point of getting out on my own and putting some pavement under my shoes.

What looks interesting?
What are people talking about?
Where are the workers going on their breaks?
Where are the old men drinking?
Are there cooks out and about? Where are they?

That’s how you hear about the best stuff in any given city. You have to go find it.

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Drinker With A Writing Problem

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I’ve been walking a good chunk of the afternoon. I walked down from my home on Mount Tabor a nearly-straight shot on a blessedly warm March afternoon because I was a man on a mission. Only part of it was to get a good walk in on a sunny day and absorb as much vitamin D as possible. Another solid chunk was to go out among the populace on St. Patricks Day and find some friendly souls to get blitzed with.

Truth be told though, I walked over fifty blocks downhill in the sun through suburbs, commercial districts, industrial zones, and homeless camps alike because I wanted to try some friggin whiskey.

I did, it was delicious, and I have some thoughts about alcohol.

A pint of porter on St. Patricks Day at Loyal Legion, Portland OR
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Review #19- The Bellwether Bar

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WHERE: 6031 SE Stark St.

By all accounts, Caldera Public House should have been my preferred local bar.

It was walking distance from my house in a historic building, had an eccentric vibe, a beautiful back patio, decent food, and hosted live Celtic music? I have even have an amusing memory about the place. Before we got married, I came home from work one day and heard Emily in the bedroom. I said “hello,” and she called out “Oh… you’re home already? Um… I’m trying on the wedding dress.”

“Ah… gotcha.” I promptly walked down to the Caldera and got a seat because, before our marriage even began, I’d been kicked out of the house and sent down to the pub for an hour.

All the same, I rarely went to Caldera Public House, and chose other bars that were closer to work or run by friends. The food at Caldera was good, but never very good. The beer list was underwhelming, and I’m rarely a “fancy cocktails” guy. Above all else, the place was just not comfortable for very long. The live bands were good, but loud. You couldn’t sit at the actual bar because there were tables in the middle of the main room, and a small reading nook in the middle of the building had the most comfortable seats, but it was frustrating to read, eat, and drink there at the same time.

When Caldera closed up even before the pandemic, I was sad but not surprised. Then, when a new sign was hung outside the door about a month ago, I wondered if someone was trying to be the neighborhood bar Caldera struggled to be.

They were, and they are.

The exterior of the Bellwether Bar
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Why I Write in Restaurants

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It’s possible for a space to feel too comfortable.

Looking at my own “workspace” at home, it absolutely looks like I spend a lot of time sitting there. There’s an art print on the wall behind my comfortable high-backed chair from IKEA. There is a minimalist desk lamp (also from IKEA) that illuminates the space directly between my laptop’s keyboard, the coaster for my tea mug, and the stand where my iPad or phone controls my Pomodoro timer and music selection.

It is my preferred space for book work. It is my preferred space for editing and tweaking my own work. Beyond that little ring of light and cheap wood, though, the rest of the desk is chaos. It is too comfortable. One of my culinary teachers warned us that our workspace reflects our minds- if you have a messy workspace, you have a messy mind. Beyond my laptop, thar be dragons.

When it comes to this weekly blog, I feel like I have to go mobile. The wanderlust of the “nomadic entrepreneur” seizes on me, and I need to pack everything in a satchel and “find a place to write.”

Today, my “office” of the moment is My Vice. It has cocktails and a really good beef sandwich. The table is empty except for my typing machine and a late lunch. Arguably, I could save money and do this myself by cleaning my friggin’ desk up- but what’s the fun in that?

My name is Matt Strenger, and I do a lot of writing in bars.

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