Oregon has a long affinity with whiskey. Even before Prohibition became national law, Oregon was considered a “dry state,” allowing an infrastructure of underground distilling to become well established by the time the Eighteenth Amendment rolled around.

(Luckily) Prohibition didn’t last forever, and almost immediately after the repeal, the legitimate business of Hood River Distilling opened in 1934, and went on to become one of the largest distributors, producers, and importers of distilled goods in the state.

82 years later, our love of whiskey hasn’t diminished a bit. Case in point: Portland's Luna Foundation will host its second annual charity event, Whiskeyfest NW, this weekend, May 9-10. The spirited party will take over Block 15 at NW 11th Ave & NW Overton St for two days of all things whiskey.

This year’s festival features over 150 labels, a “secret” VIP library presented by the Multnomah Whiskey Library, food from the likes of Pok Pok, Ataula, Bunk, Pacific Pie, and Olympic Provisions, live music from Boy & Bean the Freak Mountain Ramblers, and a mechanical bull named Tipsy. Saturday will also feature a cocktail competition pitting some of the greatest bartenders in the city against each other. Proceeds from the festival will go to benefit the Oregon Active Foundation, which provides Adventure Therapy for people with disabilities. We'll drink to that! 

Leading up to the event, PDX Whiskey Week will feature whiskey tastings and pairing dinners around town:

• May 3 – Hall Street Grill // Kentucky Bourbon Dinner Get Tix!
• May 4 – BRIX Tavern // Whiskey Brunch Get Res!
• May 5 – Clyde Common // Nikka Japanese Whisky Dinner Get Tix!
• May 6 – Smallwares // Japanese Whisky Dinner Get Tix!
• May 7 – Morton’s // Scotch Whisky Dinner Get Tix!
• May 8 – Simpatica // Sazerac Whiskey Dinner Get Tix!

More details available at the Whiskeyfest NW website. 

As anybody who has spend some time in front of Jeffrey Morgenthaler’s bar at Clyde Common (or, more recently, downstairs at Pepe Le Moko) can tell you: dude is exacting.

The local godfather of barrel-aged and bottled café cocktails has major opinions on everything from gum syrups to how to properly hold a jigger. All that booze geekiness finds a home in The Bar Book: Elements of Cocktail Technique, his stylish new manual with local cooking maven Martha Holmberg.

A guide to making good drinks all the better through careful procedures and house-made juices, infusions, and garnishes, it’s a useful and charming read, balanced by Alanna Hale’s crisp, “how to” style photography.

The book debuts June 3, but locals can pick it up early at the duo's Powell’s event Wednesday, May 28.

Here’s three quick, geeky things we learned from our first flip through the compact tome.

Image: Alanna Hale

P. 36. The man is straight up obsessed with citrus and other juices. He devotes two whole pages to choosing the best juicer (hand, mechanical, and electric), and includes wonky charts detailing the optimal age at which to use fresh squeezed grapefruit juice (4 to 12 hours later) and whether rolling and refrigerating lemons impacts juice yield. It makes for oddly compelling reading for a cross-section of America's Test Kitchen subscribers, bar aficionados, and O.C.D. sufferers. Bonus: Morgenthaler even jury-rigged a special juice squeezing technique for pulpy fruit like apples and pineapples out of a piece of cheesecloth and a salad spinner. He calls it the MacGyver Centrifuge Method (see photo, above).

Image: Alanna Hale

P. 123. Respect the strawberry margarita. Or, to be specific, infuse your nice reposado tequila with Oregon strawberries once they start popping up around the farmers markets next month in order to make the “best strawberry margarita you ever tried.” Nothing is considered too lowbrow or highbrow for Morgenthaler and Holmberg. For every reference to Murray Stenson and recipe for DIY bitters and tonic there’s a love note to a properly made daiquiri or a defense of the blender, which should please both well G&T guzzlers and people who own a bottle of Cynar.

Image: Alanna Hale

P. 171. It’s possible to devote an entire chapter of a book to ice (Chapter 8) and not end up sounding annoying. Most of us don’t know our cloudy freezer burned clinkers from an artisan Clinebell cube, but the author endeavors to explain why bartenders around town give you dirty looks when you fail to properly appreciate their large format frozen water (it involves dilution rates). It’s not all Portlandia bluster: Essentially, “ice is to the bartender as fire is to the chef,” the bartender explains. From detailing how to properly freeze ice and break down block ice to crafting Bundt pan ice molds and crushing ice for perfect Mint Juleps, this is pretty much the ebullient Frozen of cocktail reading. Cheers.

MAKE IT: PEPE LE MOKO’S GRASSHOPPER

“One of the kinda cool things, I think, about The Bar Book is that we talk about how to properly use a blender,” says Pepe le Moko barman and author Jeffrey Morgenthaler. “There aren’t a lot of bartending books out there that dare to mention blenders, much less show you how to use them.”

Image: Benjamin Tepler

Left: Portland's star bartender Jeffrey Morgenthaler works his magic. Right: The Grasshopper: a sweet, mint-flavored drink blended with vanilla ice cream, a menthol edge of Fernet, and a touch of sea salt.

PEPE LE MOKO GRASSHOPPER

1 1/2 oz green crème de menthe
1 1/2 oz white crème de cacao
1 oz half-and-half
1 tsp Fernet-Branca
Pinch of sea salt
8 oz crushed ice
4 oz vanilla ice cream

Combine ingredients in a blender, and blend on high speed until smooth. Serve in a tall, frozen glass, and garnish with a mint sprig.

The Bar Book debuts at local bookstores June 3. Pre-order on Powells.com. Jeffrey Morgenthaler and Martha Holmberg appear for a book event at Powell’s, 7:30 pm Wednesday, May 28.
And look for PoMo’s Q&A with the barman in our upcoming June issue.

Most locals see walnut trees as neighborhood nuisances, scattering nuts across sidewalks and bombing the hoods of their cars. But every June, Italians see the trees as towering treasure troves of unripe, green nuts ready to infuse in spirits for nocino, a heady, spiced liqueur traditionally sipped straight and often cold during the winter months.

“Nocino is still kind of a surprise,” muses chef Cathy Whims, whose Italian kitchen Nostrana perfected its own nocino over the past five years. “It’s dark like coffee and has that Italian love of things that are unripe and bitter, but it’s sweet and round and soothing, too. It kind of blows people away.” The spirit takes six months to infuse, but this month is prime green-walnut time—so get picking. Your future self will thank you.

HOMEMADE NOCINO

(Makes 3 cups) 
Recipe courtesy former Nostrana bar manager Douglas Derrick

20 green walnuts, washed and quartered*
750 mL bottle of Everclear (190 proof)
1 cup water
1 cup fine sugar
½ vanilla bean, hulled and scraped
2 star anise
6 allspice berries
6 pink peppercorns
Peels of 2 lemons and 2 oranges, chopped
Large glass jar with lid
Cheesecloth 

1. Add walnuts to jar and cover with Everclear. Cap jar and let rest at room temperature.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

2. In the first week of December, strain out nuts and discard. Add vanilla bean, star anise, allspice, peppercorns, and chopped citrus peel. Cover and let liquid rest for a week, agitating occasionally.

3. Strain out spices through cheesecloth. Let liquid rest for another week in the jar, without shaking. Then, slowly pour the liquid into a mixing vessel, letting the sediment on the bottom stay in the jar. Discard sediment. 

4. Whisk sugar and water into the mixture. Cover and let the flavors refine for one more week, then enjoy! Sip nocino straight; add sparingly (just a quarter or half ounce) to light, citrusy cocktails for a bold, spicy edge; or bottle for holiday gifts.

*Gather your own fallen green walnuts (discard nuts with black rot spots) or buy online or from local farmers and grocers while in season.

Image: William Anthony

With his barrel-aged negronis, bottled café cocktails, and a chatty blog, Portland’s best-known
bartender has made his mark on the global cocktail scene—training bartenders from Paris to Helsinki and landing a 2014 James Beard nomination for Outstanding Bar Program at Clyde Common. But the genial fellow from Monterey is still most comfortable right here in Portland, presiding over a bar. Recently, that bar has been Pepe le Moko (above), the swanky bomb shelter located underneath Clyde Common. His exacting new technique manual, The Bar Book, coauthored with Martha Holmberg, is a sharp, funny guide to the artful touches that vault a cocktail from a swig to an experience (things like his “MacGyver Centrifuge Method,” which turns a whole pineapple into puréed sunshine). In person, Morgenthaler rarely waxes poetic about his craft—he just wants to make you a drink. 

MY FIRST BARTENDING JOB was in a real dive bar, the Tiny Tavern in Eugene. I was 24, studying architecture at the University of Oregon, and broke. And I was the worst bartender ever-ever-ever. It took me 15 minutes to get one table four beers. I thought bartending would be fun, a good way to meet girls. Little did I know there were no women at the Tiny Tavern. It was just drunk old men. But I dug the whole scene. I liked working at night. The regulars, all my grandparents’ age, would bring me cookies. And I really liked telling people I was a bartender. 

IT WAS 1999 when I discovered Paul Harrington’s cocktail blog. I’d read it at work when I was supposed to be doing architecture. (I was still tending bar at night.) I started buying up old cocktail books and bar tools on eBay. Slowly, I rose in the bar business, and architecture started to fade away. Clyde Common offered me a job in 2008.  

YOUR AVERAGE PERSON thinks of a bartender as somebody who makes gin and tonics for a living—Sam from Cheers. Which is pretty close. I do wash dishes and make drinks. Now there’s this modern bartender, which is like that Portlandia sketch: a dude with droppers and tinctures and all these weird potions. Granted, I think I helped contribute to that myth in some small way, but I don’t really like it.  

THE SIDECARWAS the first drink that really made an impression on me. It was romantic, and from Paris...it had cognac in it! And it has these really beautiful proportions—something called the Golden Ratio of Cocktails: that’s two parts strong, one sweet, one sour. You really can make half the drinks in the world with that formula. In fact, the Bourbon Renewal, which is the biggest-selling drink at Clyde (it’s been on the menu for five years), is the exact same formula as the old sidecar, just sort of broken up a little bit.

MY DAD WAS A BANKER, his dad was a banker, my mom was a teacher. It was understood that I’d go into a white-collar field—architect, doctor, lawyer. In my head there’s something that says, “I’m a slacker, I should be working in an office somewhere.” So, I have always tried very hard to get as high up as possible in the business. I still haven’t hit that point where my shame level is satisfied.

TECHNIQUE IS MY THING.There are three things that make a great drink: the recipe that you choose, the ingredients, and the third, which nobody really talks about, is technique. Which is everything, and that’s what we talk about in the book: How do you juice your citrus? How do you make simple syrups? How do you cut ice? Store ice? Make ice? How do you shake? How do you garnish? All those little things. If you’re not paying attention to technique, your drink is not going to be as great. 

I DID A LITTLE CASE STUDY all over Portland. I grabbed cocktail menus and printed out the ingredients. It’s crazy, they’re all the same: base spirit, weird amaro, bitters ... a lot of barrel-aged cachaça, and mescals. I was like, who drinks like this all the time? For Pepe le Moko,I told my bosses I wanted to make daiquiris, Long Island iced teas, amaretto sours, espresso martinis. Their first reaction, I could tell, was, “Morgenthaler’s finally gone off the deep end.” But then I made them the drinks. They’re really good. I’m not being kitschy. Some people get it. Some don’t. So...can I make you one?

Image: Courtesy Oregon Historical Society

The card room at Erickson’s Café (date unknown)

August Erickson was not a man to let a little deluge slow his business. So when the Willamette River’s “Great Flood” hit Portland 120 years ago this month, Erickson moored a houseboat in the middle of W Burnside Street. Patrons rowed up in little boats, homemade rafts, and even caulked packing crates for shots of whiskey and to meet ladies.

Established in the 1880s, the legendary Erickson’s occupied a block of Burnside between NW Second and Third Avenues. Erickson, a Swedish immigrant, envisioned a boozy destination to rival the fleshpots of San Francisco and great drinking halls of New York. As miners, loggers, sailors, and soldiers from Fort Vancouver streamed through his doors, legends of this giant saloon spread up and down the West Coast, and it picked up some nicknames: The Working Man’s Club. The Café. The Temple of 10,000 Delights. 

“Not to have visited Erickson’s Café,” one guest gushed, “is to have missed one of the sights of Portland.”

Indeed, Erickson’s had everything a drinking man could need: a barbershop, an orchestra, a movie theater. Patrons could rent little rooms, or “cribs,” to sleep or to conduct other nocturnal transactions. The 684-foot bar, it was said, could serve 300 men at a time, who could choose from an astonishing 50 brands of whiskey. A giant schooner of Henry Weinhard’s beer cost a nickel, while bartenders in white vests and heavy gold chains concocted higher-end cocktails. Erickson’s offered “the Dainty Lunch,” a free buffet of salty sausages, roasts, and Scandinavian cheeses—perhaps the earliest version of the now ubiquitous charcuterie plate. One trend that hasn’t caught back on: a trough that ran along the foot of the bar, so a patron need not abandon his pilsner to relieve his bladder.

Erickson sold the bar in 1907, and Prohibition brought a disappointingly quiet end to the debauchery. The giant bar was cut up, the ornate fixtures sold off. Only tall tales survived—which will soon make room for a more respectable future. This month, Innovative Housing plans to begin transforming the former saloon building into 62 low-income housing units.

Image: Casey Campbell

Bag&Baggage's production uses multimedia projections to bring Arthur Miller's 'The Crucible' to, um, life.

“In all honesty, rehearsing The Crucible is both physically and emotionally demanding; there are only so many times you can accuse an innocent old women of magically murdering seven infants before you need a drink,” says artistic director Scott Palmer with his trademark wry (rye?) wit. “Cassie (Greer, the Assistant Director), Pete (Schuyler, who plays John Proctor), and I started laughing one rehearsal when Pete said ‘God’s icy wind will blow!’ and then paused and, with deadpan perfectness, said, ‘sounds like a cocktail.’”

The Crucible
The Venetian Theatre
Sept 4–28Greer, who is a member of the Bag&Baggage Resident Acting Company and a bartender at Bazi Brasserie in SE Portland, immediately started working on the recipe, but it didn’t stop there. Within a few days, the cast had picked out dozens of cocktail names drawn from the script.

The Crucible Cocktail Collection is a selection of the five tastiest concoctions out of a list of more than 20 possible cocktails. “It was difficult to pare it down,” says Schuyler. “I mean, how can you not include cocktails with names like ‘A Broken Minister’ or ‘A Two Inch Needle?’”

B&B was kind enough to share the recipes with PoMo, so now you can slake your thirst on “The Kept Poppet”—but try not to down too much of “God’s Icy Wind.”

Or you can join the cast and crew on Sunday,  September 7 at Bazi Bierbrasserie from 7–10 pm and taste the cocktails straight from Greer's hands for a night of stiff drinks, food, and a screening of the 1996 film adaptation starring "the truly terrifyingly bad performances of Winona Ryder and the disgusting teeth of Daniel Day-Lewis" to benefit the production.

A Charm to Kill Goody Proctor

Act I, Scene I
Abigail Williams is in love and Salem will burn for it. She has seduced John Proctor and wants nothing more than to be his wife. The only thing standing in her way—in her mind at least—is John's current wife, the saintly Elizabeth Proctor. Abigail tasks Tituba, her uncle's Barbadian slave, to conjure a blood charm to get Goody Proctor out of the way once and for all.

Betty: You drank blood Abby, you drank blood!
Abigail: Betty you never say that again! You never...
Betty: You did, you did! You drank a charm to kill John Proctor's wife! You drank a charm to kill Goody Proctor!

2 oz gin
.5 oz Green Chartreuse
.25 oz lemon juice
.25 oz simple syrup
1 egg white

Shake thoroughly and serve up; float Chambord

A Hangin' Error

Act I, Scene I
With the threat of witchcraft hanging over the village of Salem, the girls responsible for the uproar discuss what will become of them if the truth of what they did in the woods gets out. Weak-willed Mary Warren advocates that the girls come clear to avoid punishment.

Mary Warren: Abby we've got to tell! Witchery's a hangin' error, like they done in Boston two year ago!

2 oz bourbon
.5 oz Brancamenta
.5 oz Cynar
.5 oz orange juice
3 dashes orange bitters

Shake and strain over fresh ice; garnish with orange zest

God’s Icy Wind

Act I, Scene II
Abigail’s plot to remove Goody Proctor moves forward as Ezekiel Cheever appears to arrest her on the false charge of witchcraft. John Proctor vows to come to the court to clear her name, and he is going to use Mary Warren to do it—even if the truth of his affair with Abigail comes to light and costs him his life.

Proctor: Peace! It is a Providence and no great change. We are what we always were, but naked now. Aye, naked. And the wind, God’s icy wind, will blow.

2 oz vodka
.75 oz Absinthe
.75 oz cream
1 barspoon demerara syrup

Shake and serve up

A Proper Lawyer

Act II, Scene II
In the Salem courthouse, local land baron Thomas Putnam has been accused of killing off his neighbors via accusations of witchcraft in order to take over their land. The outspoken farmer Giles Corey claims Putnam was overheard disclosing this truth to a neighbor, but desperation and tension mount as Corey refuses to name his source.

Corey: This is a hearing, you cannot clap me for contempt of a hearing!
Danforth: Oh it is a proper lawyer! Do you wish me to declare the court in full session here—or will you give me good reply?

2 oz rye whiskey
a light .25 oz Luxardo
a heavy .25 oz blended scotch
5 dashes Scrappy's Russell's Reserve bitters

Stir and serve up; flame orange zest and discard

The Kept Poppet

Act II, Scene II
Mary Warren made Goody Proctor a poppet, with a sinister purpose. Hidden inside is a needle that Abigail uses to charge witchcraft on Elizabeth, claiming she sent out her spirit to stab Abigail in the stomach. John Proctor goes to court to prove the lie, but cannot be heard over the suspicion and superstition of Salem’s Judge Hathorne.

Proctor: Your Honor, my wife never kept no poppets. Mary Warren swears it were her poppet.

2 oz rum
.75 oz lime juice
.5 oz passion fruit puree
.5 oz simple syrup
3 dashes Tiki Bitters
6 mint leaves + garnish

Clap mint leaves and place in shaker; add liquids, shake, strain, and serve up; garnish with mint

Genevieve Brazelton has two babies: a 6-pound, 15-ounce boy named Dylan; and a 25-liter stainless steel tank filled with bourbon, bits of bark, black walnut leaves, and dried Bing cherries marked “Aromatic Bitters.” Both keep her awake at night. 

Under the cheeky moniker “The Bitter Housewife,” Brazelton is on a mission to help home bartenders boost their ambitions. “I think of bitters as the spice rack for cocktails,” says the Corvallis-born restaurant and PR industry vet. “They can heighten certain flavors in booze and soften others. It’s like seasoning a soup.”

Local bartenders have been toying with their own arcane tinctures for years, and N Mississippi Avenue’s foodie boutique the Meadow stocks bitters in flavors from celery to Aztec chocolate. But Brazelton’s distinctly homey formulations are the first locally made bottled bitters available for sale. Less concentrated and, well, less bitter than mass-produced brands like Angostura, her spice cake–like blend of 15 ingredients—including fresh ginger, walnuts, nutmeg, and allspice sharpened with fruity Grains of Paradise peppercorns, barnyardy quassia chips, and acerbic gentian root—lend a lingering warmth and a satisfying depth to cold-weather quaffs. 

The Bitter Housewife Old-Fashioned

Muddle 1 tsp Bitter Housewife aromatic bitters* and 1 tsp sugar with an orange wedge and a brandied cherry (see recipe below) in an old-fashioned glass. Add 1½ oz Eastside Distilling’s Burnside Bourbon and a generous splash of soda water to taste. Add ice, stir, and enjoy.

*Purchase Brazelton’s bitters at New Seasons or her website.

The Bitter Housewife’s Brandied Cherries

Recipe adapted from Imbibe magazine

1 pound Bing cherries, washed and pitted (I've tried Rainier, but like Bing the best)
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
1 cup brandy
2 tsp fresh squeezed lemon juice
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 stick cinnamon
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg

For immediate gratification and short term storage: In a saucepan, combine all ingredients except the cherries and brandy and bring to a rolling boil. When sugar is dissolved, reduce heat to medium. Add cherries and simmer for 5–7 minutes. Remove from heat, add the brandy and let cool. Transfer cherries and liquid into clean jars and refrigerate, uncovered until cherries are cool to touch. Cover tightly and refrigerate for up to two weeks. 

Want enough cherries to last the whole year? Double or triple the recipe and follow these directions: Wash and pit the cherries and pack in sterilized 5–8 oz glass canning jars. In a saucepan, combine all ingredients except the cherries and brandy and bring to a rolling boil. When sugar is dissolved remove from heat and add brandy. Pour hot liquid into jars packed with cherries, put on the lids and gently place in a large stockpot of boiling water for 10 minutes. Remove, let cool, and check that each jar sealed. They will stay good at least a year, but never seem to last that long. 

Image: Stuart Mullenberg

Conventional bar wisdom calls for hot toddies in the winter, fruity margaritas come summer. According to Daniel Shoemaker, owner of the Pearl District’s Teardrop Lounge, that’s bunk. We should be tapping the fresh, juicy bounty of winter citrus—the season when oranges, lemons, and limes from California, Florida, and tropical regions are actually ripe—to lend a crisp, complex tang to our cold-weather cocktails. 

“During winter all the aroma, all the flavors are so much more dramatic,” he says, affectionately cataloging the succulent attributes of rosy-fleshed Cara Cara oranges, sweet-bright Meyer lemons, exotic Buddha’s hand, and giant Rio Star grapefruits. (Don’t even get him started on pomegranates.)

Shoemaker’s evangelical zeal for the tart stuff led him to cofound the Commissary with fellow barman Sean Hoard last year. Their outfit squeezes and delivers fresh, unpasteurized citrus juices and house-made syrups to bars and restaurants daily. At Teardrop, he dots his winter cocktail menu with ephemeral juice-spiked quaffs that last only as long as the fruit is ripe—often just a week or two. “They come and go so quickly,” Shoemaker says, “each drink celebrates a time and a place.” Catch ’em while you can

Applejack Dynamite

Recipe adapted from David Embury’s The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks

The humble orange, which Shoemaker derides as “flat, flabby, and sweet” during the summer months, becomes a major player come winter, when its juice develops a “dynamic, oranges on steroids” flavor. For his refreshing-yet-soothing applejack cocktail, the barman roasts seasonal oranges to add caramelly notes and gooses the drink with a squeeze of fresh lemon for a sip that tastes like an IV drip of sunshine.   

Combine 1½ oz Laird’s Bonded AppleJack,¾ oz fresh-squeezed juice from roasted oranges* (Cara Cara, mandarin, or other seasonal orange),½ oz fresh-squeezed lemon juice, and ½ oz Grade B maple syrup with ice. Shake and strain into a chilled coupe. Garnish with a slice of roasted orange.

*Slice oranges (1–2 per cocktail, depending on type and size) in half and place cut side down on a preheated cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Roast in oven at 400 degrees for 12–15 minutes, or until fragrant and slightly caramelized. Let cool and squeeze.

FRESHEN UP WITH MORE CITRUS IDEAS

•  Try tweaking a traditional Blood & Sand cocktail with fresh blood oranges and tequila.
•  Swap that slice of lemon in your hot toddy for a squeeze of Meyer lemon—it’s divine. 
• According to Shoemaker, rum + honey + grapefruit = one great cocktail.
• Pair oranges with gin, fresh herbs like rosemary, and bubbles—fromChampagne to ginger beer.

Image: Michael Novak

The beautiful botanicals that make up Townshend's vodka, gin, and fernet.

Townshend’s Tea might not be 21 yet, but it’s already getting boozy. After earning a devoted local following with signature blends, herbalist-crafted infusions, and customizable bubble teas, the company got into the fermentation game with Brew Dr. Kombucha, a bold, effervescent cousin to its tea for the Portland palate. Now, founder Matt Thomas annexes a new herbal frontier: hard spirits distilled from his fermented teas. 

Image: Michael Novak

“We have a mission of doing everything we can possibly do with tea,” explains Thomas. “I realized that I was fermenting so much tea to make kombucha that it must be possible to continue the process to get more alcohol out of it.”

Fear no gluten! Because organic tea, herbs, honey, and cane juice are the only ingredients used in the distilling process, the entire line is naturally gluten-free.

The new collection, distilled in Townshend’s custom still in Southeast Portland and available this month, is anchored by three amber-hued spirits—Sweet Tea, Spice Tea, and Smoke Tea—made by steeping double-distilled versions of Townshend’s signature tea blends with Northwest honey and spices. Rounding out the collection are vibrant vodkas distilled from green tea and herbal botanicals, a dry gin crafted from Silver Tip Jasmine tea and Rose Peony white tea with lavender and juniper, a Portland-style fernet made with Douglas fir tips, a bitter Alpine liqueur, and a caraway-forward aquavit.

“We started with the botanicals that we’ve been working with for a long time,” says head distiller Seth O’Malley, “and it was fascinating to see which of those flavor combinations was captured by the still.” It’s official: tea time just got way more fun.

"The Hard Carl is a John Daly (aka Arnold Palmer with vodka) reimagined as a short, shaken cocktail with no watery ingredients: rich tea liqueur instead of iced tea, lemon juice and simple syrup instead of lemonade, and no need for vodka." —Head distiller Seth O’Malley

Hard Carl

• 1 1/2 oz Tea Spirit No. 2 - Sweet Tea
• 3/4 oz fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 oz simple syrup (made with equal parts sugar and water)

Combine all ingredients. Shake well and strain into a chilled Champagne coupe. No garnish.

Image: Shutterstock

Scotch barrels stacked on Islay, Scotland

August on Islay (pronounced “eye-lah”) can feel a lot like late winter in Portland. Constantly buffeted with storms, one of Scotland’s westernmost islands is a stark, windswept green beneath a thick blanket of gray. Still, thousands of whisky devotees flock here every year to worship at the source of one of the world’s great single malts, Bruichladdich (“brook-laddy”). Walking toward the distillery’s whitewashed Industrial Revolution–era buildings, I was one of those devotees, shivering under tweed cap and layers of Pendleton flannel. Summer, our guide explained as the wind kicked up, “was last week.”

Inside the 133-year-old distillery, the earthy, sweet smell of malted barley is inescapable, especially when you stand next to a “washback.” These massive vats, some as tall as a person, house the 8-percent-alcohol, beerlike liquid that will be distilled into neutral spirit, and ultimately aged into Scotch whisky. For the time being, it tastes and smells like microwaved Widmer Hefeweizen.

But for a pilgrim from that other rain-drenched, booze-happy land far away, the biggest surprise is that the washback links Islay to Oregon’s forests. Wooden washbacks are constructed in Scotland, as one would expect, but the wood comes from Oregon. That’s right: your favorite Scotch probably began life in a Doug fir barrel—a cross-Atlantic connection that’s been alive for a century.

“It is my understanding that Oregon pine was originally used as it was a tall, straight piece of wood that also had few knots in the length required,” says Andrew Brown, manager of another of Islay’s single malt distilleries, Bunnahabhain (“boon-a-hob-in”). “They are still used on an almost daily basis throughout the year.” An added benefit: fir does not impart noticeable flavor on the finished product.

Bruichladdich and Bunnahabhain are two of the more than 50 distilleries supplied by Joseph Brown Vats of Dufftown in northern Scotland, a specialty vat maker since 1921. Some years Joseph Brown imports as much as 400 cubic meters of Oregon pine (as some Scots refer to our stateside Doug fir) from Starfire Lumber of Cottage Grove to supply a wide range of distilleries, from blend giants Dewars and Johnny Walker to well-respected single malts like Talisker, the Balvenie, and Ardbeg. The small factory near the banks of the River Fiddich partners with global beverage giants like Chivas Brothers and Diageo to ship Oregon pine washbacks across Scotland, but also to Ireland, and as far as Sweden, Germany, and Japan.

“It is more expensive for us, but we select out the very best of the timber for vat building,” said Joseph Brown’s Ron Low, a 30-year veteran of the trade. “We require timbers to be straight and flat, minimal sap, and almost knot free.” The primary wooden competitor to Oregon fir is European larch, which Joseph Brown both sources locally and imports from Siberia. “Quality larch is getting harder to source,” adds Low. “The bulk of our material is from Starfire.”

Nearly 5,000 miles from home, surrounded by an international gaggle of single malt faithful, I was surprised to feel a deeper kinship with this rainy isle’s mysterious alchemy. Did we really need yet another reason to love our state tree?

Image: Stuart Mullenberg

A Radish Walks into a Bar... from Imperial

Finding the very best cocktails in Portland is like trying to hold tight to a handful of sand. For every changing season, upstart mixologist, or rediscovered French liqueur, there are dozens of new concoctions emerging across the city. So we opted for a snapshot of the moment: we scoured neighborhood dives and cocktail havens, tapped top bartenders, and queried spirit-leaders for drinks so good (and sometimes weird), you’d drop everything for a taste. Behold, the most interesting cocktails in Portland, right now.

Imperial
A Radish Walks into a Bar...
VERMOUTH, GIN, LEMON, RADISH GASTRIQUE, PEPPER, SALT
What could be the prelude to a bad joke is actually an ode to Imperial owner Vitaly Paley, the iconic local chef who defeated Iron Chef star Jose Garces using the humble radish two years ago. Any whiff of gimmickry fades as this strange concoction hits you on the nose with black pepper, rides smooth with gin and dark vermouth, and finishes sweet, with a mouth-puckering radish bite. $12

The Richmond
Sassafras
TEQUILA, MESCAL, CYNAR, ROOT, SIMPLE SYRUP
The improbable fusion of Rockwellian Americana and earthy Oaxacan countryside, the Sassafras unloads like a one-two punch. Root liqueur—a distilled version of root beer from the pioneering days—surges with a kick of birch and musky black tea alongside the smoky, sophisticated bite of mescal and a spicy jolt of tequila poured on the rocks. $10

Image: Stuart Mullenberg

The Tennesse Williams from Paadee / Langbaan

PaaDee / Langbaan
Tennessee Williams
VANILLA-ROASTED PEAR PURÉE, LEMON, PISCO BLEND, CHAMPAGNE
You know a drink is good when it can keep pace with one of the best meals in Portland. That’s the case with the supremely drinkable Tennessee Williams, occasionally served to kick off the casually ceremonious feasts at Thai phenomenon Langbaan. Deep caramel notes from vanilla-roasted pear and citrusy Encanto pisco fizzle up with a topper of fruity California bubbly. $11

Ataula
Ciudad Vieja
BOURBON, COGNAC, VERMOUTH, BENEDICTINE, BITTERS, LEMON OIL
To match chef Jose Chesa’s modern Spanish menu, bartender Angel Teta dove into the vermouths of the Iberian Peninsula. For her worldly twist on a Vieux Carré, she plucked velvety, spicy, and complex Yzaguirre red from just outside Barcelona. The Ciudad Vieja is the Francisco Goya of cocktails: dark and brooding, blanketed with the rich, luxurious body
of Spanish vermouth. $11

Kask
Bicycles & Baskets
RYE WHISKEY, ST. GERMAIN, APEROL, LEMON, CANE SUGAR, GRAPEFRUIT TWIST
You’ve seen it before: whiskey, served up, with a few trendy Italian liqueurs and a pop of citrus. But when you discover a studious rendition as even-keeled and satisfying as Kask’s Bicycles and Baskets, you’ll forget those sorry attempts. The bright, summery punch of lemon and grapefruit soften St. Germain’s elderflower bouquet, making it our favorite shoulder-season cocktail, with the ballast of winter, but the soul of springtime. $10

Image: Stuart Mullenberg

The Canicule from Aviary

Aviary
Canicule
GIN, VERMOUTH, SAUVIGNON BLANC, PINEAPPLE SHRUB, CILANTRO, JALAPEÑO
This impish, tropically inclined gin sipper borrows its name from the French slang for “heat wave,” but its flare-bright bursts of jalapeño heat, heady cilantro, and pineapple pucker hail straight from Mexico City. Super-fruity sauvignon blanc provides a sweet, dry through-line that’ll have you ordering another round before you’ve finished your first. $10

The spicy drink is an ode to bartender Ross Hunsinger’s Mexico-born, teetotaler girlfriend. She orders it with lemon and lime juice instead of alcohol. (You can, too!)

Teardrop Cocktail Lounge
Illuminations
TEQUILA, LEMON, SHERRY, MAPLE SYRUP, EGG WHITE
Of the 350-plus drinks that Daniel Shoemaker keeps in his Rolodex of Teardrop cocktails, the master bartender considers this tart, smoky-sweet elixir from the bar’s early days his all-time favorite. It’s an oddly alluring balance of smoldering tequila and sherry warmth, bracketed with a bracing squeeze of lemon and the mellow sweetness of grade B maple syrup, all lathered with egg white froth. $10

Image: Stuart Mullenberg

The Souracher from Raven & Rose

Raven & Rose
The Souracher
RYE WHISKEY, CAMPARI, VERMOUTH, LIME, GINGER BEER
Through his prolific Portland career, bartender Dave Shenaut has reworked this single drink dozens of times over, tweaking vermouths, swapping out ginger syrups for ales, and playing with whiskey profiles. Shenaut’s latest masterpiece is the ultimate thirst quencher: with each citrusy, bitter, and refreshing sip, the smooth, dry finish of vermouth di Torino brings you in for more. $10

Kachka
Infused Vodka Flight
HORSERADISH, LEMON, EARL GREY
If you thought Portland was a whiskey town, think again, comrade. With 50 or so
native and international vodkas to try, Kachka is luring the masses to its potato-driven linchpin. The Soviet-inspired bar’s house infusions (still technically cocktails—we looked it up in Webster’s!) offer a proper introductory tour. Start with head-clearing horseradish, followed by smooth lemon, and cap off your meal with floral Earl Grey. Most infusions $4 for 30 grams (about 1 oz)

Rum Club
Fino Countdown
SHERRY MIX, RUM, DON’S SPICES #2, LEMON, BITTERS
Dry, nutty, and complex, fino and cream sherries find their perfect counterpoint in bold Cruzan blackstrap rum, creating what owner Michael Shea calls a “magic trick”: an off-sweet quaff both rich and refreshing. Cut with fresh lemon and the subtle heat of winter spices, this longtime menu staple (and Shea’s own go-to “shift drink”) embodies Rum Club’s mission to elevate the house spirit from a flaming tiki mixer to an elegant standalone spirit. $8

The secret to Shea’s tiki gusto lies with Don’s Spices #2, made in small batches by Blair Reynolds, owner of Portland’s Hale Pele. bgreynolds.com

Image: Stuart Mullenberg

The Navy-Strength Martini from Trifecta

Pepe le Moko
Amaretto Sour
AMARETTO, BOURBON, LEMON, SIMPLE SYRUP, EGG WHITE
OK, this one is “reimagined.” But to be fair, the amaretto sour’s provenance dates only to the 1970s—and it needed some work. With his customary panache, worldly barman Jeffrey Morgenthaler (see p. 71) buttresses the original recipe with a dose of cask-strength bourbon and egg white, topping its frothy crown with a brandied cherry. It may not be the original, but it’s the best we’ve ever had. $14

Trifecta
Navy-Strength Martini
GIN, VERMOUTH, OLIVE
You order a martini for the first sip’s arctic blast. As you drink deeper, the crucial choices of gin, vermouth, and ratio reveal themselves. Some renditions open like pretty little flowers. Trifecta’s navy-strength version, with its stentorian Plymouth 100-proof gin measured at 3:1 with dry vermouth, is more like a deep-tissue massage—the masseur armed with a juniper mallet—that gets more assertive as the session goes on. You end up tenderized, but relaxed. $15

Nostrana
Quintessential Negroni
GIN, CAMPARI, VERMOUTH
There is no place in Portland that loves a negroni more than Nostrana. At the restaurant’s Rooster Bar, they’ve perfected the “Quintessential Negroni,” which weaves the soothing juniper of Beefeater gin, the citrusy depth of Cinzano Rosso sweet vermouth, and the luscious bitterness of Campari into an unparalleled aperitivo. For next-level tipplers: a different guest bartender’s rendition is featured in a rotating “Negroni of the Month” slot. (Sounds like a challenge to try all 12.) $8

The love doesn’t end here. Each spring, Nostrana hosts an invite-only “Negroni Social”—last year, the recipes for the social came from 12 of the restaurant’s favorite female chefs around the country.

Multnomah Whiskey Library
Old-Fashioned
BOURBON, BITTERS, SIMPLE SYRUP, ORANGE TWIST
There is no cherry. There is no muddled orange. There is nary a barnacle of ill-advised tinkering encrusting this specimen of cocktail antiquity. To sip it—cold, sweet, and strong—in a tufted, well-worn leather couch, fire blazing as you gaze at stacks of gleaming bottles and sliding ladders ... well, that is positively contemplative. $11

Xico
Margarita
TEQUILA, LIME JUICE, TRIPLE SEC, SALT RIM
While most Portland margaritas might leave you yearning for Mexico’s white sand beaches, Xico’s classicist rendition leaves you glad to be right where you are. Grassy, spicy Lunazul tequila lays layers of heat beneath fresh lime, and the lacy salt rim is like a snow the Inuit haven’t named yet. Most important, the drink accomplishes the margarita’s crucial mission: you want another immediately. $9

Image: Stuart Mullenberg

Bar supplies from Bull in China.

At their cocktail supply store, Bull in China, Lucas Plant and Daniel Osborne evoke a bar nerd’s fantasy. Make your way to their shop in the back of North Portland’s Workshop Vintage, where you can snag the basics—jigger, strainer, shaker—and discover house-made, hand-blown mixing glasses, classic bartending tomes, and ornate stemware scoured from the deepest reaches of vintage Portland. Below, Plant and Osborne reveal their favorite finds.

Bull in China Lewis Bag and Ice Mallet
The perfect mint julep or snowcapped tiki drink requires impeccable crushed ice: just stuff this durable, hand-sewn canvas bag with ice, and hulk-smash away with the hefty black walnut mallet. $100

Bull in China Mixing Glass
Hand-blown in Northwest Portland, this hammered, pocked mixing glass went through rigorous testing at the city’s busiest bars—like Teardrop Lounge and Expatriate—before getting the B in C stamp of approval. $60

Vintage Punch Bowl
In their rotating selection of found vintage glassware, the duo always keeps a punch bowl in stock. “The punch bowl symbolizes the great things in life: a gathering of friends, having fun, and sharing delicious cocktails,” says Plant. $25

“The David” Bar Knife
“A lot of us bartenders tend to go for cheap knives behind the bar, most of which dull quickly,” explains Plant. These Portland-made Station Knives sport precise, four-and-a-half-inch blades ideal for carving citrus and trimming mint. $250

Commissary Syrups and Gommes
Commissary mixologists Daniel Shoemaker and Sean Hoard craft some of the most labor-intensive and hard-to-find juices and syrups—from demerara sugar syrup and pineapple gomme to Bloody Mary mix and horchata—so that casual drinkers can whip up their own high-end cocktails at home. $14–20

Cocktails on Tap: The Art of Mixing Spirits and Beer by Jacob Grier
This month, local beer-cocktail pioneer Jacob Grier releases his bible of more than 50 sudsy combinations, like the “Green Devil,” with Duvel pale ale, gin, and absinthe. “Jacob’s knowledge of the world of suds and cocktails is extensive,” Plant says. “We’ve been counting down the days until it’s released.” $24.95

Good Morning, Booze!

Verde Maria, Fireside

Related to the Bloody Mary by name only, Chauncey Roach’s excellent forenoon delight (above) balances the bite of tequila and green chile with refreshing hits of celery bitters, lime, and kummel—a Dutch liqueur flavored with caraway, cumin, and fennel. It is strange, it is complex, and it is wonderful. $9

Sloe Gin Fizz, Raven & Rose 

Crowned with a high-rising column of fizz, Dave Shenaut’s chosen cocktail is quintessential morning-after material. Hard-to-find Hayman’s sloe gin—a London dry gin steeped with wild sloe berries for a tart zing—commingles with heavy cream, lemon juice, egg whites, and seltzer for the most refined milkshake in all the land. $9

What She’s Having, Irving Street Kitchen

Still craving the bracing buzz of a mimosa? Opt for ISK’s inspired spin, with nary a drop of OJ in sight. Fresh grapefruit juice fills the citrus slot, with two Italian bitter liqueurs balancing the mix: Aperol, with notes of bitter orange and rhubarb; and Cynar, a deeply herbaceous, artichoke-fueled concoction. Finished with a splash of Prosecco, this effervescent sipper goes down quick. $11

• The 10 Best New Brunches in Portland
• The Ultimate Guide to Portland Brunch
• The Classic Portland Brunch Hall of Fame
• 3 Perfect Brunch Cocktails for Day-Drinking Bliss
• Toast Masters: The Best Loaded Artisan Breads for Brunching
• How to Make the Perfect Brunch for a Crowd
• Host the Best Brunch Around with a DIY Granola Bar

Image: Michael Novak

Imbue Bittersweet Vermouth, tonic, orange twist.

Wine can capture only so much of a place. But throw in roots, barks, flowers, seeds, herbs, and spices, and you have a heady terroir—the true flavor of a landscape, stored in a bottle. That’s the big idea behind an emerging cluster of Oregonians tackling vermouth, the age-old European aperitif made of wine fortified with brandy and infused with botanicals. 

“We took what we knew about the origins of vermouth, and lifted it from Italy to Oregon,” says Neil Kopplin, one of the founders of Imbue Cellars. “Our goal was to make something delicious, fresh, and well-balanced enough that everyone would be able to appreciate it.” Indeed, most casual American drinkers think of vermouth as that mysterious dusty bottle that does unknown things to a martini or a manhattan. But like the rest of Oregon’s vermouth pioneers, Imbue’s two offerings—the flagship Bittersweet Vermouth and the more assertively bitter, amaro-inspired Petal & Thorn—are designed to be just as enjoyable on the rocks as they are mixed in a fancy cocktail. Here, we offer a cocktail to get you started, plus a guide to Oregon’s current wave of craft vermouths.

Oregon Vermouth: A Drinking Guide

Ransom Dry Vermouth 
$20 for 500 mL, 18.4% ABV

With a base of pinot noir blanc, winemaker-distiller Tad Seestedt’s super-dry, summery potion boasts notes of bitter apple and heady spices.

Interrobang Sweet Vermouth
$18 for 375 mL, 17.5% ABV

Inspired by an ancient German recipe, Karl Weichold’s sweet vermouth, fortified with Clear Creek Brandy, oozes fruity hits of woodsy blackberry, apricot, and cherry.

Cana’s Feast Chinato d’Erbetti
$45 for 750 mL, 17.4% ABV

Winemaker Patrick Taylor’s Barolo-style Chinato drinks like a deeply spicy Italian wine, with earthy notes of raisins, black pepper, and sour cherry.

Hammer & Tongs Sac’Résine 
$35 for 750 mL, 17.5% ABV

Meaning “sacred resins,” Taylor’s side label of vermouths uses a formula that splits the difference between dry white and sweet red for a head-spinningly herbal and citrusy sip. 

Make It!

The Gateway Cocktail:Vermouth & Tonic

“It’s like a light gin and tonic, with a tea-like quality,” says Kopplin.
“All of the citrus rises to the top, with a real richness on the finish.”

2 oz Imbue Bittersweet Vermouth
2 oz tonic
Orange twist
Combine all ingredients over ice and serve. 

— OR —

2 oz Imbue Petal & Thorn
2 oz tonic
Squeeze of lime juice
Combine all ingredients over ice and serve.

Conventional bar wisdom calls for hot toddies in the winter, fruity margaritas come summer. According to Daniel Shoemaker, owner of the Pearl District’s Teardrop Lounge, that’s bunk. We should be tapping the fresh, juicy bounty of winter citrus—the season when oranges, lemons, and limes from California, Florida, and tropical regions are actually ripe—to lend a crisp, complex tang to our cold-weather cocktails. 

“During winter all the aroma, all the flavors are so much more dramatic,” he says, affectionately cataloging the succulent attributes of rosy-fleshed Cara Cara oranges, sweet-bright Meyer lemons, exotic Buddha’s hand, and giant Rio Star grapefruits. (Don’t even get him started on pomegranates.)

Shoemaker’s evangelical zeal for the tart stuff led him to cofound the Commissary with fellow barman Sean Hoard last year. Their outfit squeezes and delivers fresh, unpasteurized citrus juices and house-made syrups to bars and restaurants daily. At Teardrop, he dots his winter cocktail menu with ephemeral juice-spiked quaffs that last only as long as the fruit is ripe—often just a week or two. “They come and go so quickly,” Shoemaker says, “each drink celebrates a time and a place.” Catch ’em while you can

Applejack Dynamite

Recipe adapted from David Embury’s The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks

The humble orange, which Shoemaker derides as “flat, flabby, and sweet” during the summer months, becomes a major player come winter, when its juice develops a “dynamic, oranges on steroids” flavor. For his refreshing-yet-soothing applejack cocktail, the barman roasts seasonal oranges to add caramelly notes and gooses the drink with a squeeze of fresh lemon for a sip that tastes like an IV drip of sunshine.   

Combine 1½ oz Laird’s Bonded AppleJack,¾ oz fresh-squeezed juice from roasted oranges* (Cara Cara, mandarin, or other seasonal orange),½ oz fresh-squeezed lemon juice, and ½ oz Grade B maple syrup with ice. Shake and strain into a chilled coupe. Garnish with a slice of roasted orange.

*Slice oranges (1–2 per cocktail, depending on type and size) in half and place cut side down on a preheated cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Roast in oven at 400 degrees for 12–15 minutes, or until fragrant and slightly caramelized. Let cool and squeeze.

FRESHEN UP WITH MORE CITRUS IDEAS

•  Try tweaking a traditional Blood & Sand cocktail with fresh blood oranges and tequila.
•  Swap that slice of lemon in your hot toddy for a squeeze of Meyer lemon—it’s divine. 
• According to Shoemaker, rum + honey + grapefruit = one great cocktail.
• Pair oranges with gin, fresh herbs like rosemary, and bubbles—fromChampagne to ginger beer.

Townshend’s Tea might not be 21 yet, but it’s already getting boozy. After earning a devoted local following with signature blends, herbalist-crafted infusions, and customizable bubble teas, the company got into the fermentation game with Brew Dr. Kombucha, a bold, effervescent cousin to its tea for the Portland palate. Now, founder Matt Thomas annexes a new herbal frontier: hard spirits distilled from his fermented teas. 

“We have a mission of doing everything we can possibly do with tea,” explains Thomas. “I realized that I was fermenting so much tea to make kombucha that it must be possible to continue the process to get more alcohol out of it.”

Fear no gluten! Because organic tea, herbs, honey, and cane juice are the only ingredients used in the distilling process, the entire line is naturally gluten-free.

The new collection, distilled in Townshend’s custom still in Southeast Portland and available this month, is anchored by three amber-hued spirits—Sweet Tea, Spice Tea, and Smoke Tea—made by steeping double-distilled versions of Townshend’s signature tea blends with Northwest honey and spices. Rounding out the collection are vibrant vodkas distilled from green tea and herbal botanicals, a dry gin crafted from Silver Tip Jasmine tea and Rose Peony white tea with lavender and juniper, a Portland-style fernet made with Douglas fir tips, a bitter Alpine liqueur, and a caraway-forward aquavit.

“We started with the botanicals that we’ve been working with for a long time,” says head distiller Seth O’Malley, “and it was fascinating to see which of those flavor combinations was captured by the still.” It’s official: tea time just got way more fun.

"The Hard Carl is a John Daly (aka Arnold Palmer with vodka) reimagined as a short, shaken cocktail with no watery ingredients: rich tea liqueur instead of iced tea, lemon juice and simple syrup instead of lemonade, and no need for vodka." —Head distiller Seth O’Malley

Hard Carl

• 1 1/2 oz Tea Spirit No. 2 - Sweet Tea
• 3/4 oz fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 oz simple syrup (made with equal parts sugar and water)

Combine all ingredients. Shake well and strain into a chilled Champagne coupe. No garnish.

August on Islay (pronounced “eye-lah”) can feel a lot like late winter in Portland. Constantly buffeted with storms, one of Scotland’s westernmost islands is a stark, windswept green beneath a thick blanket of gray. Still, thousands of whisky devotees flock here every year to worship at the source of one of the world’s great single malts, Bruichladdich (“brook-laddy”). Walking toward the distillery’s whitewashed Industrial Revolution–era buildings, I was one of those devotees, shivering under tweed cap and layers of Pendleton flannel. Summer, our guide explained as the wind kicked up, “was last week.”

Inside the 133-year-old distillery, the earthy, sweet smell of malted barley is inescapable, especially when you stand next to a “washback.” These massive vats, some as tall as a person, house the 8-percent-alcohol, beerlike liquid that will be distilled into neutral spirit, and ultimately aged into Scotch whisky. For the time being, it tastes and smells like microwaved Widmer Hefeweizen.

But for a pilgrim from that other rain-drenched, booze-happy land far away, the biggest surprise is that the washback links Islay to Oregon’s forests. Wooden washbacks are constructed in Scotland, as one would expect, but the wood comes from Oregon. That’s right: your favorite Scotch probably began life in a Doug fir barrel—a cross-Atlantic connection that’s been alive for a century.

“It is my understanding that Oregon pine was originally used as it was a tall, straight piece of wood that also had few knots in the length required,” says Andrew Brown, manager of another of Islay’s single malt distilleries, Bunnahabhain (“boon-a-hob-in”). “They are still used on an almost daily basis throughout the year.” An added benefit: fir does not impart noticeable flavor on the finished product.

Bruichladdich and Bunnahabhain are two of the more than 50 distilleries supplied by Joseph Brown Vats of Dufftown in northern Scotland, a specialty vat maker since 1921. Some years Joseph Brown imports as much as 400 cubic meters of Oregon pine (as some Scots refer to our stateside Doug fir) from Starfire Lumber of Cottage Grove to supply a wide range of distilleries, from blend giants Dewars and Johnny Walker to well-respected single malts like Talisker, the Balvenie, and Ardbeg. The small factory near the banks of the River Fiddich partners with global beverage giants like Chivas Brothers and Diageo to ship Oregon pine washbacks across Scotland, but also to Ireland, and as far as Sweden, Germany, and Japan.

“It is more expensive for us, but we select out the very best of the timber for vat building,” said Joseph Brown’s Ron Low, a 30-year veteran of the trade. “We require timbers to be straight and flat, minimal sap, and almost knot free.” The primary wooden competitor to Oregon fir is European larch, which Joseph Brown both sources locally and imports from Siberia. “Quality larch is getting harder to source,” adds Low. “The bulk of our material is from Starfire.”

Nearly 5,000 miles from home, surrounded by an international gaggle of single malt faithful, I was surprised to feel a deeper kinship with this rainy isle’s mysterious alchemy. Did we really need yet another reason to love our state tree?

Pepe le Moko
Amaretto Sour
AMARETTO, BOURBON, LEMON, SIMPLE SYRUP, EGG WHITE
OK, this one is “reimagined.” But to be fair, the amaretto sour’s provenance dates only to the 1970s—and it needed some work. With his customary panache, worldly barman Jeffrey Morgenthaler (see p. 71) buttresses the original recipe with a dose of cask-strength bourbon and egg white, topping its frothy crown with a brandied cherry. It may not be the original, but it’s the best we’ve ever had. $14

Trifecta
Navy-Strength Martini
GIN, VERMOUTH, OLIVE
You order a martini for the first sip’s arctic blast. As you drink deeper, the crucial choices of gin, vermouth, and ratio reveal themselves. Some renditions open like pretty little flowers. Trifecta’s navy-strength version, with its stentorian Plymouth 100-proof gin measured at 3:1 with dry vermouth, is more like a deep-tissue massage—the masseur armed with a juniper mallet—that gets more assertive as the session goes on. You end up tenderized, but relaxed. $15

Nostrana
Quintessential Negroni
GIN, CAMPARI, VERMOUTH
There is no place in Portland that loves a negroni more than Nostrana. At the restaurant’s Rooster Bar, they’ve perfected the “Quintessential Negroni,” which weaves the soothing juniper of Beefeater gin, the citrusy depth of Cinzano Rosso sweet vermouth, and the luscious bitterness of Campari into an unparalleled aperitivo. For next-level tipplers: a different guest bartender’s rendition is featured in a rotating “Negroni of the Month” slot. (Sounds like a challenge to try all 12.) $8

The love doesn’t end here. Each spring, Nostrana hosts an invite-only “Negroni Social”—last year, the recipes for the social came from 12 of the restaurant’s favorite female chefs around the country.

Multnomah Whiskey Library
Old-Fashioned
BOURBON, BITTERS, SIMPLE SYRUP, ORANGE TWIST
There is no cherry. There is no muddled orange. There is nary a barnacle of ill-advised tinkering encrusting this specimen of cocktail antiquity. To sip it—cold, sweet, and strong—in a tufted, well-worn leather couch, fire blazing as you gaze at stacks of gleaming bottles and sliding ladders ... well, that is positively contemplative. $11

Xico
Margarita
TEQUILA, LIME JUICE, TRIPLE SEC, SALT RIM
While most Portland margaritas might leave you yearning for Mexico’s white sand beaches, Xico’s classicist rendition leaves you glad to be right where you are. Grassy, spicy Lunazul tequila lays layers of heat beneath fresh lime, and the lacy salt rim is like a snow the Inuit haven’t named yet. Most important, the drink accomplishes the margarita’s crucial mission: you want another immediately. $9

Finding the very best cocktails in Portland is like trying to hold tight to a handful of sand. For every changing season, upstart mixologist, or rediscovered French liqueur, there are dozens of new concoctions emerging across the city. So we opted for a snapshot of the moment: we scoured neighborhood dives and cocktail havens, tapped top bartenders, and queried spirit-leaders for drinks so good (and sometimes weird), you’d drop everything for a taste. Behold, the most interesting cocktails in Portland, right now.

Imperial
A Radish Walks into a Bar...
VERMOUTH, GIN, LEMON, RADISH GASTRIQUE, PEPPER, SALT
What could be the prelude to a bad joke is actually an ode to Imperial owner Vitaly Paley, the iconic local chef who defeated Iron Chef star Jose Garces using the humble radish two years ago. Any whiff of gimmickry fades as this strange concoction hits you on the nose with black pepper, rides smooth with gin and dark vermouth, and finishes sweet, with a mouth-puckering radish bite. $12

The Richmond
Sassafras
TEQUILA, MESCAL, CYNAR, ROOT, SIMPLE SYRUP
The improbable fusion of Rockwellian Americana and earthy Oaxacan countryside, the Sassafras unloads like a one-two punch. Root liqueur—a distilled version of root beer from the pioneering days—surges with a kick of birch and musky black tea alongside the smoky, sophisticated bite of mescal and a spicy jolt of tequila poured on the rocks. $10

PaaDee / Langbaan
Tennessee Williams
VANILLA-ROASTED PEAR PURÉE, LEMON, PISCO BLEND, CHAMPAGNE
You know a drink is good when it can keep pace with one of the best meals in Portland. That’s the case with the supremely drinkable Tennessee Williams, occasionally served to kick off the casually ceremonious feasts at Thai phenomenon Langbaan. Deep caramel notes from vanilla-roasted pear and citrusy Encanto pisco fizzle up with a topper of fruity California bubbly. $11

Ataula
Ciudad Vieja
BOURBON, COGNAC, VERMOUTH, BENEDICTINE, BITTERS, LEMON OIL
To match chef Jose Chesa’s modern Spanish menu, bartender Angel Teta dove into the vermouths of the Iberian Peninsula. For her worldly twist on a Vieux Carré, she plucked velvety, spicy, and complex Yzaguirre red from just outside Barcelona. The Ciudad Vieja is the Francisco Goya of cocktails: dark and brooding, blanketed with the rich, luxurious body
of Spanish vermouth. $11

Kask
Bicycles & Baskets
RYE WHISKEY, ST. GERMAIN, APEROL, LEMON, CANE SUGAR, GRAPEFRUIT TWIST
You’ve seen it before: whiskey, served up, with a few trendy Italian liqueurs and a pop of citrus. But when you discover a studious rendition as even-keeled and satisfying as Kask’s Bicycles and Baskets, you’ll forget those sorry attempts. The bright, summery punch of lemon and grapefruit soften St. Germain’s elderflower bouquet, making it our favorite shoulder-season cocktail, with the ballast of winter, but the soul of springtime. $10

Aviary
Canicule
GIN, VERMOUTH, SAUVIGNON BLANC, PINEAPPLE SHRUB, CILANTRO, JALAPEÑO
This impish, tropically inclined gin sipper borrows its name from the French slang for “heat wave,” but its flare-bright bursts of jalapeño heat, heady cilantro, and pineapple pucker hail straight from Mexico City. Super-fruity sauvignon blanc provides a sweet, dry through-line that’ll have you ordering another round before you’ve finished your first. $10

The spicy drink is an ode to bartender Ross Hunsinger’s Mexico-born, teetotaler girlfriend. She orders it with lemon and lime juice instead of alcohol. (You can, too!)

Teardrop Cocktail Lounge
Illuminations
TEQUILA, LEMON, SHERRY, MAPLE SYRUP, EGG WHITE
Of the 350-plus drinks that Daniel Shoemaker keeps in his Rolodex of Teardrop cocktails, the master bartender considers this tart, smoky-sweet elixir from the bar’s early days his all-time favorite. It’s an oddly alluring balance of smoldering tequila and sherry warmth, bracketed with a bracing squeeze of lemon and the mellow sweetness of grade B maple syrup, all lathered with egg white froth. $10

Raven & Rose
The Souracher
RYE WHISKEY, CAMPARI, VERMOUTH, LIME, GINGER BEER
Through his prolific Portland career, bartender Dave Shenaut has reworked this single drink dozens of times over, tweaking vermouths, swapping out ginger syrups for ales, and playing with whiskey profiles. Shenaut’s latest masterpiece is the ultimate thirst quencher: with each citrusy, bitter, and refreshing sip, the smooth, dry finish of vermouth di Torino brings you in for more. $10

Kachka
Infused Vodka Flight
HORSERADISH, LEMON, EARL GREY
If you thought Portland was a whiskey town, think again, comrade. With 50 or so
native and international vodkas to try, Kachka is luring the masses to its potato-driven linchpin. The Soviet-inspired bar’s house infusions (still technically cocktails—we looked it up in Webster’s!) offer a proper introductory tour. Start with head-clearing horseradish, followed by smooth lemon, and cap off your meal with floral Earl Grey. Most infusions $4 for 30 grams (about 1 oz)

Rum Club
Fino Countdown
SHERRY MIX, RUM, DON’S SPICES #2, LEMON, BITTERS
Dry, nutty, and complex, fino and cream sherries find their perfect counterpoint in bold Cruzan blackstrap rum, creating what owner Michael Shea calls a “magic trick”: an off-sweet quaff both rich and refreshing. Cut with fresh lemon and the subtle heat of winter spices, this longtime menu staple (and Shea’s own go-to “shift drink”) embodies Rum Club’s mission to elevate the house spirit from a flaming tiki mixer to an elegant standalone spirit. $8

The secret to Shea’s tiki gusto lies with Don’s Spices #2, made in small batches by Blair Reynolds, owner of Portland’s Hale Pele. bgreynolds.com