When I arrive at Bailey’s, I chat with a gent who’s drinking a Coalition Ginlandia-a sour with rose petals aged in gin barrels. He also mentions having the Fort George Suicide Squeeze.
“Do you recommend the Fort George?”
So I get that, because if I don’t have to have a sour ale, I’m going to dodge that bullet.
He tells me he would’ve had a different beer, but he just wanted to try stuff from Oregon. Turns out, he’s visiting from San Francisco and he’s on his second full day here, going to as many breweries and restaurants as he can manage.
I gush about San Francisco, as it’s one of my favorite cities, (though it is deeply troubled these days) full of people I adore (who are forced to live outside it) but we quickly end up talking about Portland and where else he can go. He’s looking for food and drink and I am thrilled to give suggestions and talk about breweries, eateries, the history of places that did good things here and failed, yet opened the door for others.
My burrito arrives (I’m desperately hungry) and I nosh it down, sipping my beer and talking to the visitor. We keep going on places to visit-where he’s been (Ecliptic, Deschutes) and where he should go (Cascade, Widmer) and…well, I just ignore my beer.
It’s good, don’t get me wrong. But I’m too busy visiting to take notes. I feel, for a moment, like a regular bar patron.
He has a Hopworks Noggin Floggin on my advice, I try the Upright/Bailey’s Hausbier; Juzek 13, a Czech dark lager, and eventually he heads out to get his own dinner and visit other pubs. Before he leaves, I get his name and offer my hand. We shake and he continues his vacation.
Which is a pretty good night.
Today’s second pint goes to the Portland Rescue Mission.