Of course, I had Hernando’s Hideaway stuck in my head all night.
A bunch of coworkers took our front desk person out, ’cause she’s leaving us to go work for Nike (damn them for stealing her from us by offering her a job in her field! DAMN THEM!), and I toddled along after them. Even though I was seriously low on cash, but they assured me it wouldn’t be expensive. Hey, they were right!
Hawthorne Hideaway is, duh, on Hawthorne, sammiched between Hot Lips and Imbibe. When I showed up at about 5.30, the place was practically empty. The front room is non-smoking, has a bunch of booths and one pool table. Walk past the bar and into the back room, there’s two more pool tables, some tables and benches, a pile of ashtrays, a jukebox, and a TV that was playing some collegiate basketball game. And, you know, my coworkers. The ceilings are high and even when smokers were standing next to me, I wasn’t bothered by it. I suspect when there’s more of ‘em crowding the space it might be an issue, but the ventilation seemed to be adequate.
Pool is free, the beer might as well be, too. Signs announced that we were in the heart of Happy Hour, where wells and micros were $3.oo and PBR for $1.75 (I think, I don’t pay much attention to PBR if’n I can help it). The taps included Black Butte, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and Dead Guy… and some other stuff. Did I mention I’m the Worst. Food Blogger. Ever.?
Food! Oh, yeah! They had that, too. The 1/4 lb hamburger with chips was $3.95, a hand-formed patty on bread from Grand Central across the street, and enough condiments to dump all over Coworker’s hands. I had the cheese quesadilla, which was also around $2.95. It was loaded with cheddary goodness, and grilled, and had to be a good 14″ in diameter. It came with a wee thing of salsa and sour cream, and the salsa was so good I’m pretty sure it was housemade. They also brought me a tiny bottle of hot sauce, the kind with the wood cork? Num. The most expensive thing on the Happy Hour menu was the burger, and you could get things like chili fries and soup and a caesar salad.
The bartender was really cool about stuff, wandering around and checking on us while dodging flailing pool cues with remarkable agility. When I flagged him down to ask a question about whether the quesadilla was truly solo queso, he was practically apologetic that it no longer comes with tomatoes. But since I hate tomatoes and other foofy things mucking up my cheese and tortilla groove, it was all good.
I had a pint and the quesadilla and tip and my total was $7.50. Don’t bother doing the math, I like tipping change into round grand totals, okay?
Of course, now I have $5 to last me until next Wednesday… Ah, hell, it was worth it.
2221 SE Hawthorne
Portland, OR 97214