Jenny "I draw pictures all day" C.'s Profile

Finnegan's had once been a household name with my family, not for their delightful toys and games, but for a mere seconds long "brought to you by" spot that ran on either end of "Shining Time Station" on OPB in the early 90s.   But after Schemer stopped running that sketchy old arcade, the musicians inside the old juke box hoarded their nickles, and Didi Conn (as the station manager Stacy Jones) presumably closed the station, I forgot about the little show and the Portland store that helped bring it to my living room every day.  

That is, until I found myself (at 24 years old) waiting for the MAX at the Library stop, staring across the street at the signature cat logo, wondering why a foreign shop seemed so delightfully familiar.   Only when I walked in and looked around did I have the "Ahha! Of course, my childhood!"  moment.    

Maybe it was the walls filled with board games for everyone from toddlers to adults, or the piles of knickknacks and oddities that covered tables and begged to be touched.  Instruments and doll houses, blocks, and kits were displayed as modern reminders of the past contents of my closet.  With so much to see and do there's easily a potential for sensory overload.  The small staff is helpful, but content to leave you alone for exploration.  Be warned that there's something mysterious about Finnegan's... you can easily loose track of time, and your checking account balance, if you're not too careful.  

So while kids these days might not appreciate the cheesy morning television shows of our youth, the love of an old toy store is something that we can all share.  From now on I will be sure to make a special trip to Finnegan's if I need to pick up a present for my little cousins or a treat for any of the big kids at heart that I know.  

Because it's much easier to say that there is an amazing toy store in Downtown Portland than to try and convince anyone that George Carlin was once a lovable conductor.

I've been waiting for Amanda C to have first crack at reviewing our trip here because she seriously won't shut up about it.  But it's been a few weeks and there's still nothing in writing, so snooze ya loose, little sis.  Here it goes:

I'm a Bridgeport believer. There's no denying it.  Stick one of their IPA's in front of me and I am a happy (and slightly buzzed) girl.  So when wandering through the neighborhood with an hour or so to kill before a show at the Hawthorne Theatre we strolled by Bridgeport Ale House and decided to stop in.  From the outside it comes across as a small pub that's big enough for maybe 20 folks, but it actually opens to a much larger restaurant with cozy booths and clusters of tables for groups from two to ten-ish.   After  a 10 minute wait in the closet of a waiting area, we got a small table tucked in the corner and began to figure out the menu.  

It's strange really.  Heading into a pub, you kind of expect the typical: deep fried this, 1/2 pound burger that.... y'know, the type of food that makes drinking an extra pint to get the ungodly taste of unkempt deep fryer out of your mouth a good idea.    And yet with things like a carne asada salad, a black bean burger, or a salmon melt on the menu,  the options at Bridgeport are a little more enticing.    Amanda was psyched to see a vegan bowl, and I grabbed the mac & cheese.   Served up relatively quickly for how busy they were, it was warm and filling way to kick start our night out.  

Prices are consistent with the neighborhood standard where dinner will set you back about 15 bucks a person (including a pint).  It's not a bad option if you have some time and want to try a spot that's still pretty authentic and Portland style.  I know we'll be back for sure... next time hopefully to check out the happy hour deals.  

But by the sounds of it, we probably won't get out of here without another Vegan Bowl, either.

I cannot not buy something at this store.  

Believe me, I've tried. But I guess I'm just completely taken by the intimacy of the tiny shop and/or the sheer quantity of the trinkets and goods that pack the shelves.   Walking in, I fall under the same spell, where any rational thought is replaced with something along the lines of  "Why yes! I SHOULD spend part of my paycheck on a hand crafted notebook for my purse, a necklace with medical diagrams artfully composed for my jewelry collection, or a onesie with a tongue-in-cheek saying on it for the baby I don't have."

Presents of Mind is tiny, and it's almost impossible to comprehend how they manage to get so many people and products in here all at once.  The staff gladly obliges if you need help, otherwise you're able to peruse at your leisure.  There's something that will be the perfect gift for anyone on your list without breaking the bank.  Of course, if you're willing to spend a bit more, there's likely something to taunt you with too (like the oh so swanky but oh so spendy felt messenger bag I've had my eye on for months).

This has become my go to spot for little gifts for friends and family, particularly of the female persuasion, for occasions that demand more than showing up with a 6 pack of PBR.   But I wouldn't be surprised if there was something hiding here that could be paired with that too.

Okay, so I lied in my previous review... kind of.

There are actually five elements that all architecture can be based on, not four. While scholars have debated including the fifth for years, I realized after my most recent trip to Doug Fir that it needs to be mentioned here:  

Pillars.

Well... columns technically, but regardless of what you call them, in construction they are the element that quite literally supports the whole building.  And philosophically speaking, while the Doug Fir is pretty great, before my last trip here, I couldn't quite place my finger on what made the whole place work and what held it up when service was hit or miss.  And then I figured it out:

The Venue.

My God.

The intimate performance hall underneath the main lounge is what really supports the entire Doug Fir experience.  Located at the bottom of  a long flight of stairs, it resembles the rest of the building with warm tones of red and green illuminating the timber walls and washing the exposed concrete ceiling and columns ever so softly.  But light is about the only subtlety you'll find, as the rest of the experience is a total sensory overload.  

Walking into the venue halfway through a set, and I couldn't believe my ears.  If I ever get a chance, I'd like to shake the hand of the acoustician who worked on this place.  The sound quality here is phenomenal, and easily as good as any major performance hall in the region.  It's very rare that a band sounds as good in the front row as they do in the far corners, and they hardly ever sound decent  before you even get into the room.   Like most venues, the closer you are to the stage, the easier it is to see what's going on.  However, the entry landing that you walk onto before heading to the stage serves as an additional spot to get above the crowd for a clear view of your favorite front man or woman.

I can wholeheartedly appreciate what it must take for a performance to go off without a hitch, and make sure everyone has good time in the process.  And for that, the event staff that runs the place are pro.  From the front door crew that gets you through the ID check and ticket line in a matter of seconds to the security guys who have to break up screaming and hair pulling chick fights after the encore, the entire team should be commended for job well done.

This has instantly become my favorite spot to see a show in town, and it's apparent that I'm not alone in that sentiment.  So for the 5th Element, Doug Fir deserves 5 stars... and averaging that with the bar above makes it a sold 4 star place.   After having attended one of the best shows I have ever seen, I can say that I will never turn down another opportunity to see a performance here again.

(and I'll try pretty hard not to lie to you either.)

Picking out the perfect tea to drink is about as foreign to me as the majority of the places where the leaves originate from.  It's one of those things where I'd rather wring my hands until someone chooses something for me rather than look like a complete idiot picking something on a whim off a reader board.    

And yet after getting my hands on the menu booklet from Townshend my worry morphed into glee, followed by complete information overload as the pages of names and descriptions left me wanting to boldly try one of everything, rather than meekly pointing and nodding at random.  I settled on a tea latte, a cautious move at best, but nonetheless wonderful.  Served piping hot in a glass mug by a friendly young lady behind the counter, I used the time for it to cool as an opportunity to take in the surroundings on a quiet, early fall night.  

The cozy little shop offers spots to sit and chat with friends, plug away on that novel you've been working on, or break out into a rousing game of "Guess Who?" or other board game located on a bookshelf in the back corner.  Couches and small tables are intermixed with shelves full of tea accessories, serving as a reminder that one can indeed enjoy these beverages at home.  But why?  Dimly lit, with track-lights strung between the exposed timber ceiling beams, the atmosphere is as warm as whatever you ordered, and easily one of my favorite spots on Alberta.  While it's the perfect spot to visit regardless of the season, I can foresee becoming a regular as fall progresses and eventually turns to winter.

But next time I'll bring a notebook and start keeping a record of the teas I've tried, and the lands I'll have to visit in order to experience them first hand down the road.  (Might as well strive to make foreign more familiar in as many ways as possible.)

They teach you in design school (and I'm romanticizing a bit here, so take it with a grain of salt) that:

A:  Old buildings are phenomenal and probably better than anything you will ever come up with. (see: the Parthenon in Athens)

B:  Reuse of old buildings is a golden idea, but only if you can make something even better (see: the Tate Modern in London)

C:  Attempting to take a beloved old building and propose turning it into something different, and potentially lesser, than what you started with will no doubt be difficult (see: the recent debate over Portland's own Memorial Coliseum)

So with these facts permanently drilled into my brain after years of slides and history lectures I was curious to see what category the Hawthorne Theatre would fall into.  Originally a masonic lodge built in 1919, the building was converted into one of Portland most endeared venues in more recent years.  While the days of secret meetings and members-only admittance have long since passed, no amount of remodeling and change of use can alter the fact that there is something eerily solemn about being here.

Moving around the venue can be a little wonky.  The huge front doors open into a small bag check and direct you around the corner to the ticketing.  After a quick pit stop at modest, but clean bathrooms (watch out ladies, this building with fraternal roots neglected locks on stall doors) you're down another hallway to a small door to the theatre.   What the venue lacks in entrance, it makes up for in a large and open room to see a show.  Designed as a proscenium theatre, and likely the original meeting or ballroom for the masons, a large neon arch separates the standing room only audience from a slightly elevated stage with decent sight lines all around.

The acoustics aren't bad for a small show.  Hearing both solo and group acts near the front of the room was loud, but not enough to reach for my emergency earplugs.  While it's by no means the largest venue in Portland, it can hold a good size crowd, with enough room and cool air blowing around for everyone.

My heart says that Hawthorne Theatre is a fine spot to see a show, but it's not a place that I would necessarily seek out when there's nothing else better to do.  I love the vibe here, but I wonder what it would take to make it have a little more of the romanticized charm of yesteryear... they're certainly on the right track already.

Then again, my gut (and mind) say that it's still probably better than anything I could do.

They say that when you're truly in love you can't sleep because your thoughts are way better than any dream you could possibly have.  It's akin to dinner at Al Forno's... except the insomnia might also be a result of stuffing your face with too much delicious food.

It's not much to look at, that's for sure, and walking in one wonders if they're in some sort of marketplace rather than restaurant.  A huge chalkboard hanging above the counter (is this a trend in Alberta Street restaurants, I wonder?)  displays a simple menu of pizzas, calzones, and other options.  Already prepared with the basic fillings of ricotta and mozzarella, another chalkboard lists the fresh toppings of the day for you to choose from to make your meal your own.

After ordering a calzone with portobella mushrooms and pepperoni, I joined my friends at a little table by the window to watch the evening traffic roll by.  As the last of the warm summer air drifted through the large open doors and was met with the heat from the ovens in the back, a cozy vibe filled the room making it as welcoming as the young guy behind the counter.  We waited for what only seemed like a few minutes before our dinners were served up on big pizza trays.  The blend of cheeses and fillings dipped into a little dish of marinara sauce made for a filling meal, but I wasn't left with that greasy aftertaste that so many similar dishes are guilty of having.  

This place is definitely worth stopping by.  And unlike many of the other restaurants in the area, Al Forno's is open late for dinner.  But I wouldn't recommend it unless you have even later plans... or you enjoy counting sheep.

If you'll excuse the pun, I've been "pining" for biscuits and gravy from Pine State for weeks, maybe even months.  

So when the first good weekend rain fell, I couldn't hold off any longer... a junkie for comfort food, I needed a fix, and I needed it asap.   So my folks (most likely tired of my incessant bitching and moaning for baked goods) and I showed up on a drizzly Saturday morning and waited in a line for a good 45 minutes before stepping up to the counter to place our order.

The small cafe seats about 15 with standing room for to go orders.  After another 15 minutes of waiting and shuffling out of the way for those in line for piping hot Stumptown coffee and sweet tea, we had a white bag full of biscuits, gravy, and other fixings and were on our way out the door.  I got a Reggie, and had it not been so delicious, I might not admit that I managed to conquer a dense serving of fried chicken, bacon, and cheddar cheese, stuffed between a warm fluffy biscuit and topped with slightly spicy gravy.  At $7 it's not a cheap breakfast, but  indeed a filing one.  

While I'm impressed with the food, the folks, and the overall experience of a visit to PSB, I'll probably save a return trip for when I'm with dining companions who really appreciate a good biscuit and don't mind waiting for it.   That or until I'm in desperate need of another fix, whichever comes first.

The way I see it, Zaytoon registers right between unabashedly confident and calculatedly safe.

Do you like cocktails? Have one! They're pretty good, and at $4 for a well drink or $1 for a PBR at happy hour, you can't knock it.  But no? you prefer fancy juice drinks? Well they've got those too. And do you enjoy contemporary art? There's plenty of that on the walls.  But prefer something more cinematic?  You're in luck, as movie posters adorn the balcony rails above... Oh and how do you feel about dark and cozy candle lit tables? They're pretty swank, right?  Of course hanging out around sidewalk tables or in a living room lounge is pretty fun as well.  

So you feel me?  It's really your call.  Zaytoon's has all their bases covered, and for that it's kind of hard to figure out who exactly they're catering to.  But with a motto like "A distinctively upscale, yet casual urban haven" maybe that's alright.   We certainly didn't mind stopping in for happy hour after work on a Friday night.  It was busy, but not packed, and the waitress / bartender was pretty efficient in running the show.  From young artsy Alberta types to older clean cut couples it's apparent that this spot in the neighborhood is solid and hip.  

While there you'll totally have a good time, perhaps even a great time.  But when it's all said and done, you're kind of left with a "oh, so that's it, I guess." feeling.  So I'm A-Ok with Zaytoon.   I figure I'll give 'em another whirl next time I'm in the area, if anything just so I can wrap my head around the atmosphere a little bit more.

I'll admit, with slight hesitation, that I was one of those kids who rode the short bus to school.  Living in a large district and being in the "Challenge Program" (an accelerated learning program that I honestly suspect was just a cover to teach kids how to B.S. really, really well) meant my friends and I were shipped to obscure non-neighborhood schools while becoming the butt of all jokes to our other classroom, normal sized bus riding schoolmates.  

So to say that I had a huge nostalgic draw to the signature school bus of the Grilled Cheese Grill would make me a liar, liar, pants on fire.  

But I went anyway.  And I had a bomb grilled cheese in the process.  Not one to stray far from tradition, I ordered up a Gabby.  Because when one kind of cheese just won't do, there's four.  They melted together nicely and deliciously between two slices of white bread.  Served up with a side of chips and a pickle, there really wasn't anything not to love.  The guys behind the window were funny and chatty, the place was tidy, and our orders were up pretty fast, so all in all, it was a fun experience on a lazy summer day.   If I was to go back, it would definitely be a place to take my little cousins, as it appears that everyone here is just a big lovable kid at heart.   But when your menu is timeless yet undoubtedly unique is that really much of a surprise?  

I guess a sunshine and the promise of a good grilled cheese are a pretty nice draw.  Besides, you've got to take those opportunities to dine al fresco in Portland when you can get them, especially when the school buses being to roll out for the new wave of little tykes off for another year of school.  Let's hope none of them have to wear those industrial strength, airline grade seat belts on their rides like yours truly.