Portland Restaurant Waiting Guide
The Screen Door restaurant on Burnside Street, Portland, Oregon. I’ve stood in that line.
Next up, on Iron Skillet Chef America our celebrity judge feels he’s entitled to share his opinions. Alloy cuisine!!! –Ed.
As a proud “native Oregonian” I’ve lived in Portland, on and off, since 1981. I’ve been to a few places to eat along the way. From food carts to neighborhood pub n’ grubs to world class cuisine, Portland has a veritable plethora of long waiting lines guaranteed to satisfy most any connoisseur of the latest trendy thing.
Voodoo Doughnut? I’ve never been. The line has always been too damn long. Who has that kind of time for a doughnut with bacon on it? My trick? Go to two different places, grab a doughnut from a regular place and a side of bacon from a diner. Voila! I call that Voodoo without the wait. When you’re downtown you’ll people toting around with their little pink boxes of Voodoo doughnuts as if to say, “Look at me! I did the wait!” Pro Tip: That pink box goes really well with plaid.
Gimlet the Dwarf
This is Clearly not a Gimlet (nor, for that matter, Sam Elliott) due to the type of glass and the disturbingly hipster of presence of basil. What is this? An Italian diner? Tip: Garnish with a fedora.
As a nexus of negativity, this blog has, above all else, an unbreakable commitment to truth and fact. Hell, that’s all you need to be a true negativist!
In that spirit (heh) I now say this:
At least one gimlet was harmed during the creation of this post.
No lie!!!
Yes, courtesy of my wife’s desire to imbibe during the early-to-mid early afternoon and pouring the wrong spirits, I got to consume the “mistake.” Ha ha ha!
Let it be known she was making palomas but grabbed the vodka instead of the tequila. Oops! That’s when my solitary superpower kicked in and I saved the day!
Thinking on my feet I handed her the tequila and salvaged the vodka, adding only a dash of Rose’s Lime Juice.
Viola! A gimlet was born! (Then immediately consumed.) And a little something extra I call Afternoon Delight. (That’s code for an ulcer flare-up.)
Make the jump for a few more grimly gimlet details…
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