When Deschutes decided to go Portland, it decided to go big. Located on the corner of NW 11th and Davis in the trendy Pearl District, this is a monster of a building, with a wide area of open-spaced seating, a large bar section complete with big-daddy plasmas, and a ceiling so high one couldn’t hope to hit it with a casually thrown bottle cap. The structure was built in 1919 and saved from annihilation by Deschutes at a lovely price of $5 million. Seating is also available on the sidewalk next to the totally awesome wall that slides open to become a giant entryway. Finally there is an onsite brewery with a full list of beers that attest to the fact that…well…some of the beers are brewed onsite. Ahem.
Deschutes made the play to open in Portland back in 2008, but it originally hails from Bend, Oregon, where it had its glorious birth in June of 1988. The brewery has a lineup of about 7 year round beers, of which the most well known, at least in these gritty parts, are the “Black Butte Porter”, “Inversion IPA”, and “Green Lakes Organic Ale”. They also feature a rotating lineup of seasonal brews, so if you are quick on your toes you may be able to catch the “Twilight Ale”, which will go out of season after September and which is, in my opinion, a decent but otherwise average drink. Aside from this Deschutes also has a hop-centric beer line, known as the “Bond Series”, which you can catch at the Bend location and a “Reserve Series”, which focuses on the bold high alcohol flavors of aged beer. ”The Abyss”, a reserve ale from Deschutes, was voted top 25 beer in the world for 2008 by Draft Magazine.
What catches my attention, though, as I sit here in the middle of the Deschutes Portland airplane hanger, are the experimental beers on tap at the overall 18-tap bar. These bastards are brewed on site and are unavailable anywhere else within this great nation (long live Reagan!), making the drinker feel like a frickin’ king for having the privilege to wrap his or her succulent mouth around the sweet sweet nectar of such a rare brew. The descriptions on the beer list are enough to make one’s mouth water, which is good considering that I have a bitter taste that needs washing out after hearing from the waitress that they don’t have happy hour on the weekends. This is Portland, guys, COME ON!
I decide to drown my pride with a glass of “Bourbon Aged Graveyard Stout”, which, as its name suggests, is a stout aged in Heaven Hill bourbon barrels for 8 weeks and served up, at 8% alcohol content, in a 10 oz. snifter. Today I happen to be with a friend, who orders the same drink. The stout is crafted from 9 different specialty malts and comes to me in a luscious black color with a thin creamy head. This is a fine beverage, with roasted vanilla and chocolate aroma/flavor that comes from the malt and the bourbon barrels. The finish is dry, with a perfect bitter note to round it off, and a slight metallic edge that doesn’t distract from the enjoyment. There certainly is a noticeable warmth from the alcohol, but it isn’t overpowering and is rather comforting. I describe the aftertaste as “smoky” but my friend is adamant that it is “woody”. In any case, this is a beer that I would like to spend more time with, but alas, 10 ounces and I must move on to sample another experimental brew.
Its a warm day, but not too hot, so rather than spend more time plumbing the depths of a stout-hole I make a move towards something lighter, but not too light – I’m not one of those rice-fermented Pilsner-drinking assholes, mind you – and this being the hopped out West Coast I honor my community, and myself, with an order of “Freshly Squeezed IPA”. I also order a hop-infused hummus plate because I am getting a little hungry. The IPA is constructed of 3 malts, one strand of hop to bitter, and then a truck load of citrus hops. The menu describes it as a “citrus bomb in every way”, with an aroma and flavor that “scream citrus”. Though I am excited when the beer is delivered and it glows with a deep amber inner light, I gotta disagree with the pub on the description. Yes, the beer has a huge mouth-twisting hop flavor, which I liken to drinking some of aunt Janis’s patchuli oil or eating one of her pot brownies. That’s fine because I like hops, but there’s this matter of a strong sweat sock aroma and taste that I just can’t shake, no matter how many sips I have in order to prove that I am mistaken. I decide to give my friend a taste and she agrees – sweat sock. She also catches a tinge of band-aid flavor that lingers on the tongue. Overall, not good. And maybe its the assault of hops on my taste buds from the beer, but when I try the hummus I cannot locate one drop of hop flavor. The olives that come with the plate are salty and tasteless. I just made two bad moves in a row and now I am discouraged.
In an act of defiance against hops, but still sticking to my overall censorship of pilsners, I order the Black Butte Porter, Deschutes’ flagship ale. One can’t fault a brewery too much for experimenting with beer, so I decide to measure them up against something that they distribute beyond the boundaries of the brewpub. As a result, I am rewarded with a rich, smooth beverage that tickles the tongue with a chocolaty and complex flavor. Suddenly the porter has become my new favorite drink. I share it with my friend as we discuss Russian serfdoms and Tolstoy.
As I pack up to leave the Deschutes Brew Pub, I am of mixed feelings. The building is majestic and grandiose, which I suppose one must be in order to compete with the traffic and snobbery replete within the Pearl District. I cannot fault the brewery for that, despite the fact that I prefer a more intimate setting. Two of the three brews that I sampled were stunning, but the third wasn’t worth the decrease of cash in my wallet or the increase of alcohol content in my blood. The bathrooms are clean, the staff nice, and the place is packed. I suppose the best I can say about the brewery is that I will be back at some point in the future when I feel like braving the drug-induced insanity that roams the Pearl District, but next time I will come during the week so I can take advantage of happy hour. So keep a batch of porter cold for me – but in the meantime I ain’t going to waste one more second thinking about you. Cuz you’s my bitch.
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