As an establishment, it may happen that you acquire a reputation that is difficult to shake. A common and, in my opinion, stupid expression is that ‘you only get one chance to make a good first impression’. I can actually picture the testosterone injected chops of the capitalist fatback that would proclaim this lame and unsophisticated observation. If you’re the type of person that does not have the grace to recover from a bad impression then I suppose, yes, you will need to fake and schmooze your way through life to always ensure that you get the good first impression. But I warn you, you will quickly find that your ‘entourage’ of friends is comprised of muscle-headed tools and that your existence is miserable, directionless and fraught with neurosis. In addition, if you are headstrong enough to formulate a full impression of somebody based on one interaction to the point where it colors all subsequent interactions with that other party then you’re an idiot that either belongs in a militia camp, the Republican Party, or out mending fences on the Kansas fucking prairie.
That said, I’ve been to Sharky’s at Daytona Beach. I’ve witnessed the horrible debauchery. I will never go there again. First impression = final impression. Read into it what you will, but if your first impression includes some form of physical, mental, emotional or spiritual assault then I would say that it is true, you blew your first and only chance at making a good impression. However, most first impressions are not this extreme.
Fact of the matter is that you only have one chance to make a good second impression and only one chance to make a good third impression. Suffice it to say, as many opportunities that one gives you, you have that many opportunities to make a good impression. It would seem more appropriate to say that you only have one chance to make a really bad impression, because after that the person with whom you made this aforementioned impression will likely never give you another chance. The prevalence of immediate and omnipresent opinion-based websites like Yelp! help to amplify this effect.
If I were to extrapolate from my own use of Yelp!, one is most likely to post a review following an extremely good experience or a somewhat to extremely poor experience. To not quote Tolstoy, but to paraphrase and “make my own”, one can only create an extremely good experience in one way, while one can create a poor experience in many ways. Bad waiter = bad review. Undercooked flesh burger = bad review. Somebody dropped a bomb in the bathroom and used it as the material for street art = bad review. And once the review is posted it is likely not to be altered by said reviewer despite potential subsequent and less negative experiences. So the review may not represent the full view of the reviewer but there it lies, nonetheless, in stagnant form on Yelp! And what are we, the public, to make of it?
My god, this is a long introduction. This tends to happen when I am DWW. Drunk While Writing. I usually only get drunk when there is good beer within the reach of my massive stank hair-paws. But alas, I am foreshadowing.
I preface this review because I think that Columbia River Brewing has gotten a bad rap based on bad first impressions. Much of this can be tied to their soft opening in the summer of 2010, where they somehow launched from the old Laurelwood space in Hollywood, Portland in the matter of a week after Laurelwood jumped ship. Customers coming into the brewery found a space identical to the one Laurelwood previously occupied except for one thing – the children play area was no longer present. This was a huge slap in the face to parents that were willing to pay for overpriced food and tepid stank beer so long as they could drink in a space not directly occupied by their annoying and socially irresponsible offspring that were not in any way capable of sitting at a table without crying or puking. What to do now that there is no kiddy play area? My god, must I now sit at the same table as my child?
Customers also found a menu that was not fully formulated and beers on tap that were not from Columbia River.
Much of the kinks from the initial weeks were worked out in the following months as Columbia River had opportunity to brew its own beer and establish a new proprietary menu. However, the initial poor reviews in Yelp! were already recorded and the damage done. Since that time Columbia has been in the process of repairing its reputation, and for the most part it has done a decent job at it, but bad reputations die hard.
First off, and most important, their beer. Their beer is tasty, existential, and mind-altering. Today, as I sit outside on a picnic bench within the heart of Hollywood with the cool Portland breeze gently stroking my Hipster mustache and my thick, bear-like leg hair, I am savoring the Stumbers Stout as if it were a lactating virgin of 18 years built of honey and tanned muscular skin and I a fat heaving infant engorging on the milk of life. I have already pounded down their immaculate Black IPA like it was a score to be settled between two rivals and high noon was but seconds from expiring.
Second off, like most pubs that serve food, their prices are high without the quality to reconcile with the price. So high, in fact, that I would only consider getting an appetizer if it were happy hour and thus I could take advantage of their happy hour discount. Aside from that, there is precious few vegan options available on the menu and their fries that were previously vegan are now made with a beer batter that has egg or milk in it. Not sure which, but what fucking difference does it make?
Sidebar – I’ve been asked why, as a vegan, I find an exception to eating eggs or dairy when the animals themselves are not killed. Do some research. Do you really think that cows lactate, and thus produce milk, just because they are happy cows? No. They lactate because they are pregnant and they are pregnant because farmer Jim forcibly impregnated them with a mechanized gun full of bull sperm. So, what do pregnant cows give birth to? Female and male cows. Sure enough. And can a male cow produce milk? No. So what does dairy farmer Jim do with the male cows? One word. Veal. And eggs? What do you think the farmers do with chickens that are too old to produce eggs? Do you think they keep spending money to feed them until the chicken dies a natural death? Fuck no.
So here’s the rub – the beer is fantastic and the food okay but overpriced. What’s a brother to do? Compromise. Come to Columbia River Brewery. Order one beer for drink, a second beer for your meal, and a third for dessert. At some point, maybe, they will evaluate their menu and ask the question, ‘why would anybody want to pay these prices for standard pub food?’. Sure, in most towns and cities across the US an establishment can get away with gouging their patrons with subpar crap-food. But not in Portland, where you can get a bucket of deliciousness from any of the numerous nearby food carts at 3 bucks a pound. So if CRB is seeing clearly they will recognize that the answer is ‘not a fucking soul will buy this standard fare’ and perhaps from that point they will alter their menu. Perhaps add some Vegan options. Yah baby! (‘Not a fucking soul’ is a bit strong. Actually, many people come here to eat; I just don’t see the reason why. I am simply suggesting that a menu that is more unique may differentiate the brewery from other establishments in the Portland area and could perhaps attract a more steady and far-reaching customer base than the one that it currently attracts.)
Oh, and the Silent Monk, my god, the Silent Monk Belgian Dubbel… So very flavorful. So very strong. May this brewery live a thousand years.
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