Cocktail Talk

Back when I first moved to Portland, I was really only familiar with the West side. It’s where my work was, it was the bustling metropolis half where I figured all in the interesting and cool stuff was, and I never really need to cross the Willamette until I got a job in Southeast. Soon after we moved nearby chasing better rent and livability than the suburban hell of Beaverton could offer.

Back then, I was confused and disappointed by the lack of bars with late hours and wondered where Portlands reputation as a drinking town came from. Unless that was limited to beer geeks with thick glasses, beards and flannel, I hadn’t seen a single bar open past 10pm in marked contrast to the local watering holes I was used to even in the suburbs of Atlantic City.

I’m bellied-up to the bar at Holman’s, a recent revived institution of the Laurelhurst neighborhood in Southeast. Posters proudly proclaim their new operating hours- Noon to 2:30am, Monday through Friday. Saturday and Sunday they open at 8 to snag the weekend brunch crowd, but still stay open till 2:30 in the morning to welcome the folks that don’t need a special meal to justify day drinking (or night, for that matter.)

What am I having? A martini. The classic. The eternal. The classy. The basic. Dry and dirty, stirred, served in a coupe glass with a vermouth wash (I should have specified that I like the vermouth left in. If I want vermouth-scented gin, I’ll ask for it- but I’m not gonna be That Guy who causes problems in local bars.)

I had a martini yesterday too, in another bar across town. This bar, an upscaled dive bar trying to take in the 5pm “drinks and party” crowd, apologized for not serving my martini with a big ice cube and prepared it in a rocks/lowball glass.

The cocktail was fine, but because of the glass I had to drink it quickly. Accident? Intent? Gender politics? The Blood of the Lamb? Who knows why a bartender would serve a martini unasked for in an unorthodox glass?

What has me wondering today, in a filling bar that I may soon abandon for home (where the booze is paid for and pants are optional) is cocktails themselves and why I enjoy (as my sister called it) “classical drinking.”

Continue reading

The Staff Of Life, Liquified

Beer was liquid bread. Bread was solid beer.”

– Tom Standage, “A History of the World in Six Glasses

Walking in is as different at every beer hall as it is the same. Different decor, different vibe to the place, different service… different menus to be sure. Behind it all is a shared sensory vocabulary, however, that make each reminiscent of the others.

The arrangement of tables in the hall, sometimes, so that there is a selection of intimate booths for those who want to drink alone or in very select company and long linked tables for boisterous get-togethers and ersatz parties among colleagues. The general geography- you can see the seats and you can see the bar (the style and texture of which again reflects the mood and vibe of the place.) There is a clear order of operations to be observed here. A ritual to be followed and walked as carefully and unconsciously (for the faithful) as the Stations of the Cross.

A selfie of the author wearing an olive green newsboy cap, green tweed vest, and white shirt raising a pint of dark beer.
Continue reading

How To Serve A Season: Winter

If you go through world folklore- from places where winter is a thing- you’ll find the connection of Winter and Death.

In Norse Mythology, Idunn, goddess of youth, falls from the branches of Yggdrasil while picking the apples she feeds to the gods to keep them strong. She plummets- like a falling leaf- all the way to Niflheim and Hel. Niflheim and Hel are at the very bottom of the tree, the realms of ice and the dead, respectively. When the gods find out and Hela (goddess of death) refuses to let her go immediately, Odin gives her husband Bragi (the god of poetry and song) a white wolf skin to keep her warm until Hela lets her go. Odin (the sky) sends a white blanket (snow,) song and poetry to keep Youth comfortable until she is freed.

We can see it again in the well-known story of Persephone and having to stay with Hades for part of the year, during which her mother Demeter won’t let anything grow.

The trees lose their leaves. The snows, rains, and winds come. Animals hibernate, and wait for the world to live again.

Fall slowed everything down. Winter is when we are meant to stop and rest. Humans aren’t so good at that though, so we adapted. When the Earth retains and nurtures its bounty, we have gotten VERY good at relying on when it didn’t.

Photo by Adriaan Greyling
Continue reading