Jodi "Wench" C.'s Profile

Doc's is somewhat of a paradox. Maybe they could rename it ParaDoc's? It's considered a strip club. But it may be difficult to actually find the strippers at this elusive bar. Where are they hiding? The joint is large and open, and the stage is set against the back wall, half-hidden by the bar. Yet the dancers are rarely anywhere to be found. The quality of dancers has improved dramatically in the last year, but they're a far cry from those you'd see at places like Devil's Point, DV8, or Casa Diablo.

It's the sort of spot where you want to know who the regulars are. These folks are easy enough to get along with and minimally invasive. And after the bartenders see your face in there a few times, they'll open up and hit you with some good humor and belly-busting one-liners.

The music is traditional hard rock and heavy metal, streaming from a decent juke box. But the volume is almost always painfully high.

For entertainment purposes (once the "Where's Waldo, the Stripper?" game gets old), there are two decent pool tables, a video poker room, a touchscreen game, a humungous flat screen television, and usually a handful of completely belligerent gangstas or old timers to keep you amused. I'm personally a fan of the punching bag game. While awaiting the appearance of aforementioned illusive exotic dancers, you can waste one whole dollar to hit a punching bag once, just to prove your machismo to your buddies. Gee golly, what a thrill!

Truthfully, the owners of the bar have put a ton of work into fixing the place up. It looks 150% better than it did a year ago. But I think the winning factor for this bar are the specials:

Sunday morning bloody mary pajama parties.
$1 well drinks and PBR from 10pm-midnight, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.
Nightly food specials, ranging from $2-4. The perfect drunken comfort food variety.
And other weekly happy hours.

Go for the stiff cheap drinks and the amusing bar tenders. Not for the dancers or anything else you might have in mind.

PS: cash only. ATM on premises.

Each time I've gone to Doug Fir, my personality is split right down the middle into two even bar-toting hemispheres.

There's one side that is, for some inexplicable reason, always reminded of Stephen King's "The Shining". Something about the immaculate douglas firs meticulously layered throughout the building rings true of a yuppy chateau. I feel a hankering to pull out my best turtle neck, raise my head high, and chuckle gleefully, champaigne in hand. This generally happens as I gaze upon the intimate dim-lighting of the main floor; the cozy corners, personal fireplace included; the slightly overpriced cocktail menu; and the chique, heavily mirrored, and sophisticated retro bathrooms.

Thankfully, the axe-wielding Johnny (played by a pre-Joker Jack Nicholson) is subdued, for the time being, once i venture down the stairs to the music venue locale. I have to proclaim that Doug Fir is one of the best local music venues: the architectural structures that combine cement ceilings, multi-height flooring, and douglas fir-paneled walls compliments the acoustics very pleasantly. The sound system is superb. And the lighting is at an optimal hue -- dim enough for one to be able to willingly bathe in the music, yet light enough to where one can actually find their $2 PBR and lovingly introduce it to one's mouth.

The shows Doug Fir books are generally quality and well worth the trip. But the average cost of $12 admission might be a factor that keeps me away more than it lures me in.

If you're looking for the perfect happy ending to an evening spent enjoying some good (local and global) bands downstairs, there's an adorable firepit out on the back patio. Even on chilly nights, the flames and interesting conversations will keep you warm. As will the nice views of Portland's wide open night sky.

A word to the wise: you can try joking around with the doormen, but they've pretty much decided they don't feel like smiling tonight. Or ever, for that matter.

I've been battling with myself for a few minutes. Do I feel the Hungry Tiger Too is enough of a hip cat to ble able to proudly strut with all five stars, or should it put aside its feline pride and settle for four?

The music is generally stellar. I dig that the bartenders can hook their laptops up to the speaker system and choose their own music to play. If I were a bartender, the first thing that'd make me go ape-poo and start flinging feces at people would be a rage induced by listening to my patrons horrible selections on the juke box. And the tenders usually have a pretty good music collection. The downside is that they tend to play it a bit on the holy-mother-my-eardrums-are-bleeding side of the volume switch.

On the subject of bartenders, more often than not, they're nice to look at. And if you don't shimmy your legs down the length of the bar and demand some attention, you might find yourself gazing upon the barkeeps for quite awhile without service. Don't get all passive-aggressive pissy on me now. A simple moment of eye contact and decisiveness is all that's needed for service. Not too much to ask, right? Last I heard, telepathy was NOT a prerequisite for bartenderdom. Maybe the attentive factor is somewhat lacking, but I'll forgive.

The food? I bloody well love the food. Snaps to them for having both a full vegan and nonvegan menu. It's the sort of place where you don't have to be vegan to enjoy that sort of food. The wontons are a quirky fusion mix: butternut squash deep fried in a wonton skin, topped with sweet and sour. definitely an acquired taste. My favorites are the sweet potato fries (no condiments needed but welcome), the buscuits with mushroom gravy (I made the mistake of ordering a large version and it literally was enough for three meals), and the polenta fries (sweet baby Jesus -- deep fried poelnta drizzled with sweet and sour sauce, and a side of the most garlicky of all garlic aioli? It's downright amazing)...

They have a decent happy hour menu, ladies night, men's night, and these insanely ginormous concoctions called "all day sippers". The name says it all. To boot, their list of drafts is a blessed array of two Ninkasi brews, two Deschutes brews, Mothership, and about six other well-rounded selections.

The patio has to be one of my favorite in Portland. Part old school, umbrella-covered plastic tables; Part covered lion's den, with a super cozy wrap-around couch, heat lamp, and gratuitous tiger paintings and paraphernalia.

Wedsnesdays are $1 vegan corndog day (that's just dangerous for the digestive tract -- I can never bring myself to order less than three), but apparently it's also some unnamed Portland cyclist gathering grounds. Heed my warning: if you see about seventy-five various bicycles piled up outside of the Hungry Tiger, it's best to try back later. The bar will be packed beyond belief.

Oh yeah, and don't forget to enjoy a few rounds of pinball while you're here. Superman and Lord of the Rings await thee, noble baller...

P.S. They've a separate seating area if you want to avoid the bar scene and have a proper sit-down meal.

They spiced up their patio! It's now adorned with some lush potted flowers and a soothing fountain in the corner. Speakers on the patio allow patrons to enjoy the music while relaxing under the umbrella-covered bistro tables.

Amor also offers up some unique perks, such as ladies night, where parties of four or more women get a free appetizer. The PBR is always $1.50. And the lentil soup with spinach and ample pocket bread is well worth the $3.50 price tag.

I believe the 110 ratings with an averge of 4.5 stars pretty much speaks for itself. And some of our Yeeps have uploaded 70-something photos onto the review page.

So I'll tell you what: if you really want to save yourself $8, turn on some Japanese instrumental tunage, boil some water for green tea, and slowly, serenely skim through the collection of Portland Japanese Garden photos. You'll be breathing more deeply and calmly by the time your done, your eyes will be slightly glazed over. But in truth, it's nothing compared to visiting the gardens yourself.

I have a friend who is absolutely obsessed with Japanese culture: food, music, language, film, technology, fauna, architecture. He can't get enough of it. Which makes him somewhat of an expert. As we were walking through the stoned paths of the gardens, I kept one eye on him, trying to see his responses, how he felt about it. As we were walking down the forested path back to the car and reality, he said, "I give it an 8 out of 10. New York's Japanese Gardens don't hold a candle to Portland's. Very impressive." Wherein he naturally placed his palms together before his chin, squinted slightly, bowed, and said "Arigato gozaimasu". Hai.

Let's face it -- it's a tourist trap. I think that deters a significant amount of Portlanders from visiting. But really. Out of all the beautiful places this area has to offer, this is one of the most calming I've ever been to. If it was free and I didn't have to haul my arse all the way up to Washington Park, then I'd probably sleep in the Bonzai Tea House and live there. It'd certainly take care of my anger issues. As I walk through the gardens, I am so at peace with everything, in awe at the natural beauty and the simplicity of Japanese gardens, and confused by the crisp cleanness of the air, that I sometimes forget to breathe and get a bit dizzy. That's okay though. That's a good thing.

The gardens are truly something for Portlanders to be proud of, somewhere we should take every out-of-town guest with any appreciation for natural wonders and garden formations.

If that doesn't work out too well for you, you can always hop next door to the Rose Test Gardens, or whack some balls around on the park tennis courts, or hit Washington Park for a blues band. Plenty to do way up on that hill...

Really, what can you say? It's simple yet ecclectic. There are eight or so different sauces for your potato-dipping pleasure, including four (?) vegan options. We tried the spicy mustard, which was reminiscent of Chinese mustard.

I made the mistake of inhaling through my nose while I took a gulp of mustard. Unless you want a brain burn, that's a no-no. But it's still yummy. Spicy, but not too overwhelming.

The fries really are damned near perfect. Crunchy outside, soft inside. It was the perfect guilty snack that I didn't feel yucky about eating afterwards, like some fries can do. Maybe it's because their oil is clean.

We ordered our fries and by the time we'd taken ten steps in the opposite direction to check out the other carts, potato dude was calling our name. Get thee to a french fryer-ee. Or some such.

These are a great snack to share with friends, post drinking. The location's nice too, within stumbling distance of Jolly Roger, Hungry Tiger Too, and Ladd's Inn.

Sweet! I mean, salty...

Heads up: I believe all the carts here are cash-only. But there's an ATM outside next to the little mexican restaurant and cafe.

Oh, Tibet, how I love thee. And how glad I am there's  a shop in Portland where any practicing Buddhist or hippie who wants some prayer flags for their porch or random out-of-towner can gather to collect exacly what it is their looking for. I could be wrong, but I think this store offers the most Tibetan paraphernalia in the area.

They have prayer flags ranging in size from 2"x2" to the traditional variety; authentic Tibetan prayer, ritual, and celebratory tools; prayer beads in various colors, from $10-100; bulk and individual incenses (from Nag Champa to the not-so-familiar); wool throws, tye-dye hippie shirts; beads; jewelry; Tibetan/buddhist historical and enlightening books; peacock feathers; clothe images of various Indian gods and goddesses; pictures of the Dalai Lhama...

In all actuality, there's so much stuff in this store, you might find it challenging to squeeze between "aisles" without knocking anything over. I nearly cried when I knocked over a stack of deity prints, thinking this surely must be some kind of blasphemy or curse. I looked to the ceiling for a moment, waiting for a lightening bolt to pierce through the old 1920s house/shop, and strike me with its wrathe.

Fortunately, the gods are forgiving and did no such thing. Once assured I wouldn't be struck down, I gently put the pile of cloth prints back on their designated helter-skelter shammied shelf.

So yeah, the place is sort of a mess. But it's a family business and that's how some people roll. I love to come in every few months, knowing the man who owns the shop will be more than willing to tell me tales of his most recent Dalai Lhama convention, or the historical perils of the Tibetan nomads, or the most current political triumphs and dilemmas of the Tibetan people versus the Chinese.

It's always an experience stopping into Tibet a Gift. And I always leave smelling pleasantly of Tibetan incense.

Look for a big yellow house next to the gas station on Division and 39th. You can also get postal service from this multi-service shop.

...Om Mani Padme Hum..

I brought my roommate and an out-of-town guest here a couple of days ago. I love this place enough to where I bring all of my distant friends here. I've yet to get a disappointed response from anyone.

My roommate had my friend worried there for a bit: he sat in his chair, rubbing his belly and moaning. My friend, concerned about sickness, didn't realize my roommate was merely enjoying a blissful food coma. The freshness of the Bay Leaf's food cured his hangover by the time we'd made it out to the parking lot.

We decided to share a few dishes: the pumpkin bisque was creamy, buttery autumn goodness; the spinach appetizer was refreshing and tangy; the fried eggplant with their secret house sauce? Flipping AMAZING. The meaty texture was enough to appease their omnivorous palates, and hearty enough to where it was nearly impossible to cut up with chopsticks (I cheated and used my spoon). I tried the Jade Rice for the first time: a pile of rice mingled and fried with vegetables and soy protein, big enough to be a side for five or six people. And of course we got the ever-pleasing Tempura Noodle Soup.

The words of my guest after finishing his meal? "After eating all this, I've an aching to go back to Japan. That was delicious!"

And there you have it.

Tube, you silly bastard...

i'm still on my mission to define what hipsters truly are. For no reason other than a long-running curiosity. As far as I can tell from other people's explanations, about 98% of Portlanders are hipsters. But of course NONE of them are. One of the codes of oath for the Hipster Clan is to never... ever... admit to being a hipster. I don't know which is more elusive in the NW: the true identity of these hipsters, or Sasquatch.

Nonetheless, there's a good chance many of the patrons I saw (or half saw through the dim lighting) were in fact hipsters. During my forty-five minute stay, my inventory consisted of: 8 funky hats, 6 heads dyed with Manic panic, 9 pairs of skinny pants, and 46 cases of other random weirdness. Hey, that's Portland for ya. And even if they were hipsters, who effing cares? They were smiling and friendly, shared menus, gleefully threw ice cubes at the bartenders, and shared their emphatic opinions of Tube's off-the-wall food items.

That time of day that I hold so dear to my heart, which many call Happy Hour, expands from 5pm-10pm nightly here. During this time, you can divulge in a sickening amount of $2 tall boys and $2 wells. The bartenders make a stiff drink and they make a mess while doing so. I love me a messy bar tender. The food is both vegan and omnivore-friendly. So nonvegans, quit your bickerin'. They have something amusingly named Professor Nanotear's Muffin: vegan ham, vegan cheese, and chipotle dressing, all crammed between an english muffin. One'll cost you $3, so why not just take two for $5... Also on the menu are: pastrami on english muffins, vegan and meat hot dogs, a couple of sweet treats, chips and salsa, and (my favorite) a "big ass bowl of potato chips".

It's a shame we got there at 9:15. I could've stayed there all night, banging my head around to the loud DJs mix, which included artists such as Carnivore and the like. Listening to 90s metal at ear-piercing volumes while watching Aqua teen Hunger Force on one of two TV screens? How dreamy.

I was feeling remotely lethargic when i walked into Tube. By the time we shimmied out the door, I felt young and alive, with my fist shaking in the air.

Good job, Tube.

Oh man. This place is a mecca for my teenage boy inner child. Despite my anxieties about going downtown, every so often I'll cram my road rage and fear of parallel parking into the back seat just to put a couple of $5 bills into the change machine at Ground Kontrol.

I dig that they allow all ages to partake in its glories during the daytime, but that the adult kids can have run of the place during the late night.

The drink selection is kitschy and Portlandic: Session ($2.75), Pabst ($1.75), Sparks, Hamms, a handful of microbrews, and Redbull. While awaiting your fine affordable beverage, feel free to peruse the old school game consoles they have for sale above the bar. Been aching to pick up a Super NES? Well they've got it for $79.

You gotta love the nerdcore DJs they offer up each night. I couldn't resist the urge to bust a move to the "Weird Science" song while watching my friend battle with three other friendly geeks playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Luckily, some of my foolish feelings resided when I looked over to see a couple other random gamers also bobbing their heads to the songs.

The patrons are friendly and diverse. Maybe it's the cheery lights thrown on the walls from the spinning disco ball, or the Arcade station stained glass art next to the wall: that machine is Ground Kontrol's god and savior.

On the bottom floor, one can numb their thumbs on classics such as Gauntlet, Centipede, Joust, Q-bert, Atari Star Wars, Super Mario brothers, Paper Boy, the Simpsons, Tetris, PacMan, and Street Fighters, amongst many others. OR they can venture up the stairs to sweat off some booze on Dance dance Revolution or one of more than TWENTY pinball machines: Star Trek, Pirates of the caribbean, Simpsons, South Park, Demolition Man, terminator, StarGate. The pinball perils and triumphs are seemingly endless...

If you're fighting off a bout of hypoglycemia from all of that hardcore gaming, pick up a Snickers bar from the cheery bartender. He'll have it out in a jiffy. And before calling it a night, you can purchase some used games for your NES, ranging in price from $6-30.

I love you, Ground Kontrol...