Horse Brass
We got home from work yesterday, had some dinner (mock chicken and rice), and then looked at each other and the clock. It was 7:30pm. We could either stay home and watch tv or screw around on the computers or read, or we could take advantage of the weather and go out somewhere. Option B. Our Mission: The Horse Brass.
The Horse Brass is probably the best pub in Portland. What it lacks in culinary expertise, it makes up in a fantastic selection of beer that is constantly changing and, like any proper English pub, several locations for darts. It has also long been a haven for stinky cigarette and cigar smokers, filling the whole place with an infamous grey haze. One of the bartenders, Evette, is a member of Aaron's homebrew club. She kept the coat that she wore to work in a permanent location on her porch because it was way too stinky to bring inside. One night at the Horse Brass was enough to make you never want to wear those particular clothes again. For this reason, although the Horse Brass is within easy walking distance from our house, we rarely go there. I hate waking up with my hair full of cigarette smells.
And then January 2009 came along, bringing with it a brand new no-smoking-in-bars policy. Don Younger, owner of the Brass, has long time vowed never to ban cigarettes in his bar, and was supposedly going to find a loophole to make the bar a "private club" that would be exempt from the smoking ban, but he must have been defeated; the Horse Brass is now non-smoking. It turns out that there's a bunch of pretty dark wood under all that smoke. The crowd is totally different than it used to be. The cigar smokers are gone, replaced by guys with laptops and women with knitting needles (at least, that's who was there last night). The whole place seems brighter and more spacious... different. Very strange. But the beer selection is still awesome.
I had an El Oso Rojo lager from Bear Republic and an Arrogant Bastard from Stone. I forgot exactly what Aaron had, but half of his second beer ended up in my lap after he knocked it over, talking too much with his hands. Since I was halfway through my second beer, the Arrogant Bastard, I had an oddly slow delay to the accident. Hmmm. Beer. In my lap. That's not good. I'd better move. Yuck! Gross! Aaron! It soaked into my jeans and smelled like ass for the rest of the night. Itchy wet blue jeans. So much fun. We were going to take off and go home at that point, but Evette brought Aaron a new full beer, so we had to stick around and drink it before staggering home. Life is very rough.
The Horse Brass is probably the best pub in Portland. What it lacks in culinary expertise, it makes up in a fantastic selection of beer that is constantly changing and, like any proper English pub, several locations for darts. It has also long been a haven for stinky cigarette and cigar smokers, filling the whole place with an infamous grey haze. One of the bartenders, Evette, is a member of Aaron's homebrew club. She kept the coat that she wore to work in a permanent location on her porch because it was way too stinky to bring inside. One night at the Horse Brass was enough to make you never want to wear those particular clothes again. For this reason, although the Horse Brass is within easy walking distance from our house, we rarely go there. I hate waking up with my hair full of cigarette smells.
And then January 2009 came along, bringing with it a brand new no-smoking-in-bars policy. Don Younger, owner of the Brass, has long time vowed never to ban cigarettes in his bar, and was supposedly going to find a loophole to make the bar a "private club" that would be exempt from the smoking ban, but he must have been defeated; the Horse Brass is now non-smoking. It turns out that there's a bunch of pretty dark wood under all that smoke. The crowd is totally different than it used to be. The cigar smokers are gone, replaced by guys with laptops and women with knitting needles (at least, that's who was there last night). The whole place seems brighter and more spacious... different. Very strange. But the beer selection is still awesome.
I had an El Oso Rojo lager from Bear Republic and an Arrogant Bastard from Stone. I forgot exactly what Aaron had, but half of his second beer ended up in my lap after he knocked it over, talking too much with his hands. Since I was halfway through my second beer, the Arrogant Bastard, I had an oddly slow delay to the accident. Hmmm. Beer. In my lap. That's not good. I'd better move. Yuck! Gross! Aaron! It soaked into my jeans and smelled like ass for the rest of the night. Itchy wet blue jeans. So much fun. We were going to take off and go home at that point, but Evette brought Aaron a new full beer, so we had to stick around and drink it before staggering home. Life is very rough.