The Many Delicious Phases of the Water of Life

On Saturday evening Red and I caught a late dinner at Swedish restaurant called Broder on Clinton Street, in an little neighborhood of east Portland that is not yet fully hipsterized, but is on its way towards it.

Walking in the door it was obvious we were among the few straight people in the entire place. It's always fun being in the minority. In a way it makes me more comfortable being myself.

The first thing I did when we sat down was pick up the menu and peruse the list of their cocktails. It's one of my new passions---cocktails.  This spring while traveling in the southwest I'd found myself often watching the television show Bar Rescue, in which a seasoned, gruff "beverage industry consultant" remakes failing taverns and nightclubs, at the invitation of the owner, whom he invariably takes to task at some point, often to the point of abuse. He's not shy abusing saying why the bar is failing, and what must be done to save it.

It's my favorite reality show. I've learned a lot about the bar business from watching it, in a way that makes me understand how much effort goes into making a well-run place.

One of the things that the consultant-host does in almost every episode is to redesign the cocktail menu, top to bottom, with all new ones that reflect the theme of the bar. It made me see how much creativity and thought goes into this process. It's given me something to appreciate whenever I go out to a bar. I now look forward to savoring the various mixological creations offered there. Whenever possible, I'll order one of these unique drinks, rather than beer or wine, or a standard mixed drink.

That's the kind of awareness that deepens my experience of life in a way that feels like an enrichment, at no extra cost to me, other than the price of a drink or two. As I travel, or explore a city, it fires a curiosity in me akin to that of a connoisseur. Each bar becomes a possible site of a new exploration. The world acquires an additional dimension in some coordinate space of appreciation.

At Broder we ordered several rounds of cocktails made with Akvavit. They just seemed to scream "Drink me" when my eyes landed on them. We both ordered ones made with grapefruit juice ("the perfect fruit," as I told Red).

Neither of us knew what Akvavit was.  My Finnish-Swedish friend Okki had sometimes mentioned it as a staple spirit in Scandinavia, but I've never been there.

I already knew that the name Akvavit is derived from the Latin phrase for "water of life." But that doesn't tell you much. Many cultures have a spirit called "water of life." But it seems to manifest itself in different forms, depending on what the locals consider to be worthy of that vaunted title. For example, almost everyone has tasted the Irish Gaelic version.

After dinner we wandered across the street to the nearby Press Club, a little wine bar.  Sitting at the bar we ordered another round of their cocktails, which were all named for famous works of literature. I ordered the "Red Badge of Courage," and Red ordered the "Virgin Suicides."

A woman was playing acoustic guitar and singing for the small crowd packed inside. During a break in the songs, the musician told the crowd that she was a recent transplant from Pennsylvania. That gave Red and me a chance to discuss the never-ending conveyor belt that brings newcomers from all over the country to Portland.

This town must seem like a paradise compared to many of their places of origin. All of us who had come here at one time were in different stages of that same long transition. Some of us had just arrived and were awestruck at what must seem like a utopian culture of Bohemian self-expression. Others of us had been here a long time, and were negotiating some kind of post-baroque articulation of rehashed life elements.

Indeed I told Red that I was beginning to warm up to Portland. The richness of the nightlife---all the interesting places to dine, drink, and hear music---was beginning to grow on me.

Maybe I wouldn't have to exile myself to the suburbs after all. Maybe I just needed to blaze my own chaotic path into the city. Maybe I just needed to shrink my expectations down to the bare minimum, so they could be built back up again.

So many splendid cocktails to savor here. Plenty of coffee shops. Maybe this could be my town after all.