Lagunitas Olde Gnarleywine

At 11% ABV, Lagunitas is serious about it’s tagline for this year’s barleywine: “this is surely not a beer for the designated driver,” and I might add that it’s not for the casual beer drinker either. Aside from the hefty alcohol content, this ale is thick and rich with a big bitter kick that would turn most off after the first drink. It takes awhile to get through each drink, tasting at first like oatmeal heavy with brown sugar, then like a strong and bitter coffee, then something like a porter, and ending with a fading hint of bitter grains.

I was never completely sure if I liked it or not, by the time I’d had enough to get a read on the complicated brew, I’d really had enough, and probably couldn’t have told you anymore what it was I was drinking. Sip it slowly and share it with a friend, and I think this could be a seasonal release to savor.

A brief note about soup

A large batch of potato leek soup, very loosely based on this recipe, Epicurious’ potato and kale soup, was incredibly delicious. My toddler ate a lot of the kale, so it was a huge success there as well.

I sauteed an onion and four garlic cloves in butter, then dumped in some chicken broth (which I don’t usually use, but it was given to us, and I didn’t have all day to let it simmer), one sliced carrot, and two diced red potatoes. That cooked until everything was soft, and I pureed it with my immersion blender.

I dumped in three cups of water, 6ish more diced red potatoes, two more sliced carrots, and one bunch of chopped kale, stems removed. That simmered, I remembered it needed to be seasoned, so I tossed in salt and pepper, it simmered so more, and then it was delicious.

Normally I would add the onion, garlic, a little bit of kale, and the beginning potato and carrot to plain water and simmer that for at least an hour before blending and then adding the rest of the vegetables and water. It tastes great and saves money you don’t need to spend on broth. Saving money and making enough soup for dinner and several days of leftovers.

Geometric

I take sack lunches to work, like elementary school, but with slightly more grown-up food. If there are dinner leftovers (which is rare; I tend to eat a lot of dinner) I’ll bring that, if not, I’ll often make a sandwich.

Not quite intentionally, my sandwich being prepared last night became a balanced arrangement of circles, lines, and their colors. On the bread, a layer of dijon mustard, with four red tomato slices, evenly spaced from edge to edge. Then cucumbers, sliced thin enough to be translucent and vibrantly green, 5 little circles covering the spaces that the tomatoes didn’t. And next, a green onion, sliced lengthwise in quarters, the way epicurious taught me to slice leeks, all the same height and width, touching just below the top and bottom edges of the layers below. Narrow onions, white bottoms fading into light green, in a perfectly spaced row, and finally, a march of long, lively orange carrot peelings, resting alongside the thin, delicate layers.

I felt like I’d created a puzzle or a learn-your-shapes book for toddlers: Red circles, green circles, white and green vertical lines, turn after turn with bright orange bars. All the shapes and colors visible, with no blank spaces; the bread and mustard beneath hidden from sight. It was beautiful, and at lunch today, it was delicious.

Dinner from the back of the cupboard

My family didn’t have much growing up, but we had enough to give a few cans to the yearly drive at school. My mom would hand us cans she pulled from the back of the bottom cupboard, wiping off the dust, and sending us to the school bus with water chestnuts or lima beans weighing down our backpacks.

After several years, I started to wonder why we had the cans to begin with. I don’t think we’d had a single dinner with water chestnuts, lima beans, or pickled beets. I never asked, and didn’t think of it often enough to try to reason it out.

A few nights ago I went to begin dinner and found almost nothing left in our cupboards and fridge. A couple carrots sat in the vegetable drawer next to wilted green onions, a hunk of cabbage two months old, and one half of a cucumber. There was a small chunk of cheese, dry in one corner, some condiments, and some leftovers we should have tossed weeks before. In the cupboards we had a jar overfilled with barley, some quinoa, rice, and five dusty cans. Two cans of corn, one can of kidney beans, one can of tuna, and one can of beets.

I had become the mom with a dusty can of food in the back of the cupboard: something I’ve never used in a meal and wouldn’t eat alone. I wiped the dust off the top of the beets and tried to remember when and why I had bought them. The tuna had come from my mother-in-law, the corn was intended to be used in corn chowder, and the kidney beans destined for minestrone. But the beets? I like beets, but would use fresh beets if I wanted to use them in anything, they’re cheap and the difference is great enough between fresh and canned to make the preparation worth it. And then I recalled: when my son was still trying out solid food, at about 8 months old, I bought that can of beets to try out tiny pieces of the red vegetable on my tiny boy. I just never got around to it.

One childhood mystery solved, I put the beets back in the corner of the cupboard, pulled out the beans, one can of corn, and the rice. Rice, beans, and corn, with some salt, pepper, basil, and thyme to try to hide how incredibly boring this dinner would be. Simon, now 18 months, picked out the beans and ate only those, while Bob and I ate what bland dinner we could, discussing how soon we could get to the grocery store.

Blueberry Ale

Buffalo Bill’s Blueberry Ale is packaged with an overabundance of blueberry images, which concerns a person like me, who doesn’t really like blueberries. They’re too sweet, the skin separates from the fruit in your mouth, which feels awful and slimy, and I always seem to get some weird stick or rock in mine. Having blueberry flavor in a beer, though, wipes out all of those problems. The bitter finish of the ale erases any sugar overload, and it’s liquid, so no squidge, sticks, or slime. This Blueberry Ale does take care of the blueberry issues, but it still seems a little off balance. It tastes as if some blueberry syrup were squirted in, rather than the beer being brewed with the berries, as the label claims; each drink starts with a funny mix of mediocre beer, then berry flavor, and leaves a bitter, stale aftertaste. The beer isn’t terrible as long as you keep it cold, but it’s not fantastic either. If you can imagine a blueberry muffin, left out for a few days, and converted to liquid, you’d have a decent idea of what to expect from Buffalo Bill’s Blueberry Ale.

Rollick Amber Lager

I’d never heard of an amber lager, but really enjoy amber ales, so I poured a glass of Pyramid’s new spring brew, Rollick Amber Lager. On the one hand, Rollick reminds me of a red ale, a new discovery that’s less warm than amber ale with a thick, prickly citrus crisp. This lager has the crispness of the red ale, with a little of the warmth of the amber ale, but thinned.

On the other hand, it kind of tastes like PBR. I’m not sure if I read the subtle warmth, round, citrus, and crispness into it because I wanted it to taste good (it was, after all, my celebratory beer for a new job), or if by the end I was tipsy enough (even at only 6.0% ABV, a 20 oz bottle did me in) to miss the flavor.

On learning to accept tea

In my previous life as an administrative assistant I had the fortune of being exposed to the first tea that I’ve truly enjoyed. I always assumed I didn’t like tea because it didn’t have enough flavor (I drink my coffee black and prefer my whiskey straight) but after having some fairly strong tea that I still disliked, I thought perhaps I was a secret tea snob. This happened with cheesecake: I thought I hated cheesecake, but it turns out I had only had bad cheesecake, and when I was given a piece of smooth, creamy, flavorful, not sugar-ful chocolate raspberry cheesecake in San Francisco with my beloved Aunt and Uncle, I met the hidden cheesecake snob within me.

It was not so with tea. I had good tea, fresh, authentic tea, with honey, with sugar, with lemon, with nothing, and I still didn’t like it. I met my begrudging tea-acceptor within when some dear co-workers were preparing for the benefits fair at work. They asked me to try the vat of tea they had prepared to hand out, so I warned them I didn’t like tea, so I wouldn’t like this, but I was premature. They had brewed Celestial Seasoning’s Tension Tamer, and I was hooked. The tea wasn’t the wimpy, scented water I expected from herbal tea, nor was it the bitter, stale-bread black tea flavor I despised. This tea is sweet without any sweeteners, and citrus-tinged without lemon, with a slightly spicy scent and taste that I can’t place. It’s almost like spiced apple cider with far more spice than apple, and more and different spices.

I still haven’t found another tea that I like, and will probably always prefer coffee, but on a cold night when I’m exhausted but not quite sleepy, I enjoy a cup of Tension Tamer as I try to work towards bed.

Morisson Hotel

Apparently the Morrison Hotel is Doors themed, or based, but not knowing a thing about the Doors, I couldn’t tell and only knew because I was told. It may not be news to others, then, that the bar is nothing but black inside, with red lights. The incongruous pieces of the bar are the giant flat panel television playing Ultimate Fighting, the video lottery machines, and Big Buck Hunter video game. I really doubt the Doors played songs about video poker and fake sports on giant tv’s, but I’m willing to be proven wrong.

The beer selection at the Morrison is massive, spanning a wrinkled broadsheet, and organized alphabetically by beer type. They have beer on tap, beer in cans, beer in 12 oz bottles, and beer in 20 oz bottles. They have liquor, of course, and serve the smooth and hot Bulleit with a slice of lemon. After the whiskey, I was recommended by the enthusiastic and knowledgeable bartender (beertender?) Black Boss Porter, an intense, 9.4% ABV dark beer. I had this one after two whiskeys but still managed to catch it’s impressive resemblance to a caramel chew.

We ordered a large nacho, and managed to finish most of it off, but the large should be shared with three or four people. The round chips are stuck together with half-fried cheese, and topped with a lot of olives, a few black beans, some jalapenos, and served with sour cream and very hot, but very thin salsa on the side. I was intrigued by
“Three Bowls,” a menu item listed as three bowls filled with the chefs choice.

The Morrison Hotel seems conflicted about it’s identity, the video poker, TV, and Red Sox banner suggesting a divey sports bar, and the well-organized and stocked beer list, dedicated servers, and dim, emo decor suggesting a beer-centric hipster venue.

719 SE Morrison St
Portland, OR 97214
(503) 236-7080‎

Henry’s 12th Street Tavern

I’d been to Henry’s once before, while pregnant and consumed with morning sickness, and so did not enjoy my time or food. When we walked in recently, the restaurant was so dim it didn’t look open, and it was hard to tell if the stares we were given by the hostesses were vacant, expectant, or hostile. If we hadn’t had a gift certificate, I probably would have walked out. But we did have the gift certificate, so we followed our glowering hostess to our table, tucked in a hallway. Our server could have just as easily been a phone salesman as a restaurant server, but his enthusiasm and consideration didn’t seem entirely false. He spent most of the night trying to get a ‘hello’ or smile from our son, which always wins us over.

One of the best reasons to visit Henry’s is the beer list, with over 100 craft brews to choose from. I asked for the Walking Man Black Cherry Stout, but they were out, so I asked about the “Bartender’s Pick-of-the-Week,” a changing selection of rare, hard to find, or limited edition beers. That night I was served the Lagunitas Brown Shugga Ale. It’s served in a specialty snifter, and at 9.9 ABV, the smaller amount certainly was better. The beer was smooth and sweet, a warm brown color that tasted just like a caramel topped with molasses. The flavor starts broad and gently curved, and ends with a slightly bitter, serrated swipe across the middle of the tongue. It’s a pleasant kick finishing off a beer that might otherwise be sickly sweet.

The strong, sweet beer was a great counter-point to the Chicken Yakisoba Garlic Noodles (Pad Thai, really) I chose for my dinner. My tower of noodles, bean sprouts, chicken, and vegetables was spicy but not sharply so; the heat was spread evenly over the entire dish. The food was good, though not exceptional, and not much different than you would find at a decent Thai restaurant. The rest of the menu offers a few other pseudo-Asian options alongside typical higher class tavern food: Burgers with blue cheese, pasta with fish, and roasted beet salad, among others.

If you’re downtown, looking for a great beer list and quality food, Henry’s might meet your needs, but don’t expect an authentic smile, any unique personalities or menu items, or to read your menu without a flashlight.

http://henrystavern.com
10 NW 12th Ave.
Portland, OR 97209
Phone:503.227.5320

Hours:
Sun-Thurs 11am-11pm
Fri & Sat 11am-12am

Happy Hour:
Daily 3pm-6pm
Sun-Wed 9pm-Close
Thurs-Sat 10:30pm-Close
No Happy Hour on 1st Thursdays

le Happy

On my recent visit to NW Portland’s eccentric creperie, I was looking for dessert and ordered a Belle-Helene: poached pear, semi-sweet chocolate, whipped cream, and toasted almonds. The sweet crepe was perfectly balanced in flavor and texture. The pear was so subtle as to be almost tasteless, but it did add a softly sweet counterpoint to the strong, pointed, (but not bitter) semi-sweet chocolate. The pear was neither gooey-soft nor crispy, and settled wonderfully between the the soft crepe and crunchy almond. The whipped cream at le Happy and generously heaped on most sweet crepes tastes fresh and real with none of the lingering Raid flavor bad or bottled whipped creams leave behind. In previous visits I’ve had nutella and chocolate based dessert crepes, and while decadent and delicious, the density and overwhelming sweetness of the crepes kept me from finishing. This night, the lightness of the pear, the expertly sparse chocolate, and the thin crunch of the nuts made it possible to slowly savor every bite. I enjoyed my sweet crepe with Maker’s Mark on the rocks, which added another sharp contrast to the sweetness of my food, and the food’s sweetness helped mask the slight burning that this bourbon leaves behind.

The savory crepe special on the night of our visit was a salty, garlicky pan fried chicken, green onions, with garlic wrapped in an almost crispy crepe and topped with a drop of cheese, garlic, and green onion cream. Each bite was full of strong flavor and filling, cold-winter comfort.

The kitchen and (exceptionally friendly) staff at le Happy is small, so the crepes come out in twos and occasionally solo, even for larger groups. The crepes are best eaten hot, so the normal custom to politely stare at your food while you wait for all to be served should be set aside here. The seating is limited and the restaurant deservedly popular, so you may need to stop by and head back out for a walk or a drink at one of the nearby bars. Everything you’ll find at le Happy is well worth the wait.

lehappy.com

1011 NW 16th Ave between Lovejoy and Marshall
503.226.1258
M-Th 5pm – 1am, Fr 5pm-2:30am, Sat 6pm-2:30am, closed Sunday