By Appointment To No One Person

In my obsessive drive to catalog my life, it has become regular practice to stack rank every bar I have ever visited.

It's a metaphorical and existential exercise. How does one compare a heightened cocktail program to the neighborhood dive? Most things equal, are you picking the tequila bar or the whiskey bar? Does me going to a nearby place dozens of times outweigh the place I tried once on vacation? What do you do when a bar held in high esteem bleeds out the team that made it hum? What's the dividing line between "bar" and "restaurant" in 2026, anyhow?

Nevertheless, the exercise is useful. As I write this, my top five (of 125 total!) bars, with a combined 61 visits, are:

1. Bar Snack (New York, New York)
2. Satan's Whiskers (Bethnel Green, London, England)
3. Expatriate (Portland, Oregon)
4. Liquid Diet (Las Vegas, Nevada)
5. Katana Kitten (New York, New York)

All five share commonalities, even if the contours of each menu can vary. High craft, capable teams, a feeling of home, thoughtful small details. In all but one instance, a great kitchen alongside the cocktails.

Each also has its thing - something that sticks out and encapsulates the vibe. For Bar Snack, it's the disco bathroom. At Satan's Whiskers, a constant classic hip-hop playlist fills the room alongside the macabre. At Liquid Diet, it's the high-low contrast of scientific riffs on classics, scrawled on cardboard hanging above the bar. At Katana Kitten, Japanese movie posters tower on the walls.

At Expatriate, it's the writing.

My first photo of the menu at Expatriate is from my second visit in September 2016. We were tucked into a larger corner table, with brand new friends just made at the communal table across the street at Beast. Beast and Expatriate were linked by Naomi Pomeroy, one of the great minds of the Pacific Northwest food scene. Expatriate was co-owned by her husband, Kyle Linden Webster, who did the drinks and (I have to assume) the menu writing.

The goldenrod yellow menu had drinks on the left, and paragraphs across the fold to the right, arrows connecting the drink to the narrative and vice versa. Usually an explanation of the drink's origin; occasionally a quote or song lyric; sometimes a misdirection not obviously related to the drink; always in all caps, in what appears to be S&S Amberosa Sans 1; always a blend of emotion and detachment.

Alongside my photos that night of the "FALSE FLAG" ("Limit 2"), and its ingredients list ("Control Pisco, Wray & Nephew Overproof Rum, Clement Mahina Coconut Liqueur, Laird's Bonded Apple Brandy, Coco Lopez, Marasha Maraschino, Angostura Bitters") is a photo of the paragraph for the drink.

Reading it now nearly a decade later, the same connection I felt that day dances in my brain, even without having a murderous tiki drink in my hand.

Cryptic lyricism and wryly poetic humor are my love languages, and regularly seeps into my own writing. (This also makes my writing a frequent source of concern for those who choose to read every post with the frame of worry. Dan, are you okay? I assure you, I am.) The drinks were great, the playlist was well curated vinyl played front to back, the decor was exotic – but it was this prose, harmonizing with my own inner voice, that made Expatriate a regular stop on PDX trips.

On the next visit in March 2018, my photos included entire menu and not just my orders on the night:

BODY LANGUAGE - 13 USD
Reyka Vodka, Lustau Fino Jarana, Apple, Commissary Orgeat, Fresh Lime, Scrappy's Grapefruit Bitters

OUR MOST CAREFREE, APPROACHABLE COCKTAIL. THE TOAST USED TO BE, "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BE OF GOOD CHEER, FOR THEY ARE OUT THERE, AND WE ARE IN HERE." AN ANTIQUATED IDEA OF SEPARATION IF EVER THERE WAS ONE. AND SO WE ADAPT IN HEART AND SOUL, THE NEW TOAST: "TELL EVERYONE ON THIS TRAIN I LOVE THEM."

BLOODY MARY - 12 USD
Reyka Vodka (or Pueblo Vieja Tequila or Beefeater Gin), Snap E Tom, Red Boat Fish & Crystal Steak Sauce, XXX Death Sauce, Fresh Lime & Orange, Horseradish, Smoked Salt, Habanero Bitters, Celery Bitters, Indian Spice Rim

CREATED IN PARIS, OR PERHAPS NEW YORK CITY, THIS SUNLIGHT COCKTAIL WAS NAMED AFTER MARY OF ENGLAND, WHO MARRIED A SPANIARD AND BURNED 280 SOME ODD PROTESTANTS AT THE STAKE. THAT IS, UNLESS IT WAS NAMED FOR MARY PICKFORD, CO-FOUNDER OF THE UNITED ARTISTS STUDIO, AND PROLIFIC ACTRESS OF THE EARLY 20TH CENTURY.

GAZELLE - 14 USD
Primario Mezeal Joven, Bols Genever, Combier Fruits Rouges Liqueur, Commissary Orgeat, Pineapple, Fresh Lime, Portland Soda Works Hibiscus Cardamom Surup

MIAMI, BLENDERS, FERNS, QUESADILLAS, A BIG STERO, WHITE, GOLD, BRAZIL, FUN, WEDGE SALAD W/ BAY SHRIMP, COCKTAILS, ALWAYS A LIVELY SCENE, LOTS OF DANCING, JUDICIOUS SMOKE MACHINE, NEON STRAWS, PLASTIC CUPS, THE PARTY YOU ALWAYS KNEW YOU WANTED BUT COULDN'T FIND IN PORTLAND.
(FROM NOTES ON A BAR THAT WE NEVER OPENED)...

DAVID HOWITT - 14 USD
J.T.S. Brown Bonded Bourbon, Whole Egg, Tempus Fugit Crème de Cacao, Averna, Commissary Cinnamon Syrup, Whole Milk, Extracto Cold Brew

OUR FRIEND, BUSINESS PARTNER, AND SPIRIT ANIMAL, DAVID IS NOT ONLY A TALENTED AUTHOR AND BUSINESSMAN, BUT THE CREATOR OF THE ALL IMPORTANT "DETOX/RETOX" PARADIGM FOR LIFE. TAKE THE NEXT STEP IN YOUR PERSONAL JOURNEY BY DRINKING BONDED BOURBON AND EXTRACTO COLD BREW AT THE SAME TIME.

ALTER EGO - 13 USD
Larceny Bourbon, Aveze, Fresh Lemon, Townshend's Kusmiri Amaro, Local Honey, Fresh Ginger Syrup, Angostura Bitters

LINGERING IN THE MOMENT OF IMMEDIATE INFATUATION, THIS 5TH GENERATION WHISKEY SOUR WILL INFLUENCE YOU UNDULY AND WOO YOU COMPLETELY, THOUGH WITH LITTLE RISK OF PAIN OR DISAPPOINTMENT. LIKE NOTHING YOU'VE HAD BEFORE, YOU MAY FIND YOURSELF RETURNING AGAIN,
WHETHER FOR A WEEKEND LOST,
OR FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS.

CARAVAN - 14 USD
Pierre Ferrand 1840 Cognac, Fresh Lemon, Pear, Mirto Sardinian Myrtleberry Liqueur

MY POLICY HAS BEEN THAT AS SOON AS A SYSTEM OR PROCESS WORKS, IT'S OUT OF DATE. I MOVE ON TO ANOTHER IDEA.

- DAVID BOWIE

DUAL LOYALTY - 13 USD
Letherbee Gin, Becherovka, Fresh Lemon. Commissary Cranberry Sage Ambrosia, Cocchi Americano

IN AN ERA WHERE MIGRATION AND INCREASED EFFICIENCY IN COMMUNICATION HAVE PRODUCED NEW FORMS OF IDENTITY THAT TRANSCEND TRADITIONAL NOTIONS OF PHYSICAL AND CULTURAL SPACE, THE IDEA OF CONFLICTING LOYALTIES BECOMES MORE A BROMIDE AND LESS A CAUSE FOR CONCERN.
CALM DOWN AND SETTLE IN.

HOWARD HUGHES - 12 USD
Pueblo Viejo Blanco Tequila, Commissary Orgeat, Aperol, Fresh Lime, Combier Loire Curaçao, Mint, Nutmeg

IN ADDITION TO BUILDING THE LARGEST FLYING BOAT THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN, HUGHES WAS A NOTED ADMIRER OF TIKI DRINKS, A FAITHFUL AT DON THE BEACHCOMBER'S ORIGINAL LOS ANGELES LOUNGE, AND EXACTLY THE SORT OF PERSON WHO WOULD START THE DAY WITH A TEQUILA MAI TAI. ARE YOU?

The pandemic would slow the near-annual trips to Portland. On an escape in November of 2023, on what I would not then know to be my final visit, the menu read:

GOLDFINCH - 16 USD
Banhez Mezcal, Dolin Génépy le Chamois, Becherovka, Fresh Lemon & Lime, Commissary Baked Apple & Ginger Syrups, St. Elizabeth Allspice Dram, Angostura Bitters

THE DIMINULATIVE GOLDFINCH CARRIES WITH IT OUTSIZE MEANING–EXCITEMENT, LIVELINESS, AND ENTHUSIASM FOR THE WORLD SURROUNDING US. IN A WORD, JOY. TAKE THEIR ARRIVAL, LIKE THE MOMENT THIS COCKTAIL IS SET DOWN IN FRONT OF YOU, AS A REMINDER TO ENJOY YOUR LIFE.
SAVOR WHAT YOU CAN, WILL YOU?

VERMILION - 18 USD
Roku Gin, Cocchi Americano, Kronan Swedish Punsch, Amaro Montenegro, Fresh Lemon, Angostura Bitters, Bitter Truth Jerry Thomas Bitters

WHEN FIRST CREATED, THE MATERIAL IS ALMOST BLACK.
AS IT IS GROUND, THE RED COLOR APPEARS.
THE LONGER THE COMPOUND IS GROUND, THE FINER THE COLOR BECOMES. THE PAINTER CENNINO CENNINI WROTE, "IF YOU WERE TO GRIND IT EVERY DAY, EVEN FOR 20 YEARS, IT WOULD KEEP GETTING BETTER AND MORE PERFECT."

FALLEN FRUIT - 16 USD
Linie Aquavit, Amaro Ciociaro, Fresh Grapefruit & Lime, Makrut Lime Leaf Maple Syrup, St. George Absinthe

WHEN YOU REAP THE HARVEST OF YOUR LAND, YOU SHALL NOT REAP TO THE VERY CORNERS OF THE FIELD, NOR GATHER THE GLEANINGS OF YOUR HARVEST. YOU SHALL NOT PICK YOUR VINEYARD BARE, NOR GATHER FALLEN FRUIT; YOU SHALL LEAVE THEM FOR THE POOR AND THE STRANGER. - LEVITICUS 19:9-10

CLIPPER - 16 USD
Wild Turkey 101 Bourbon, Lustau East India Sherry, Luxardo Maraschino, Amargo Vallet, Bittermens Transatlantic Bitters, St. George Absinthe, Accompani Coffee Liqueur

UNTIL THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE SUEZ CANAL DECISIVELY HANDED THE FUTURE OF SEA TRANSIT TO STEAMSHIPS, CLIPPERS RULED THE ROOST AS THE FASTEST WAY TO GET TEA, OPIUM, SPICES, SILK, MAIL, OR GOLD MINERS FROM PLACE TO PLACE. THEIR SPEEDS WERE A MATTER OF PUBLIC INTEREST AND COMPETITION, REPORTED IN NEWSPAPERS... YOU MAY HAVE HEARD OF THE MOST INTACT CLIPPER THAT SURVIVES TO THIS DAY, THE "CUTTY SARK."

AVALON - 16 USD
Plantation Original Dark Rum, Jagermeister, Fresh Lime, Commissary Grenadine, Coconut Cream, Ricard Pastis, Angostura Bitters

WHEN THE SAMBA TAKES YOU, OUT OF NOWHERE
WITH THE BACKGROUND FADING, OUT OF FOCUS
YES THE PICTURE'S CHANGING, EVERY MOMENT
AND YOUR DESTINATION, YOU DON'T KNOW IT

-BRYAN FERRY

SWAN SONG - 18 USD
Beefeater Gin, Strega, Carpano Dry Vermouth, Fresh Lime, Commissary Mint Syrup, Regan's No. 6 Orange Bitters

THOUGH COMMON BELIEF HOLDS THAT THE SWAN SONG WAS ONE OF LAMENT, SOCRATES TELLS US THAT THIS FINAL GESTURE WAS IN FACT ONE OF HAPPINESS, SINCE BEING CONSECRATED TO APOLLO, THE BIRD WAS BOUND FOR ETERNITY, READY TO GO WHERE FATE CALLED. SIMILARLY, THIS IS WHY ANY ADHERENT OF THE GOLDEN MEAN SHOULD BE OF GOOD CHEER ABOUT THEIR SOUL...

TRANSMISSION - 16 USD
Rittenhouse Rye Whisky, Benedictine, Cocchi Dopo Teatro, Giffard Banane du Brésil, Bittermens Transatlantic Bitters

WELL I COULD CALL OUT WHEN THE GOING GETS TOUGH
THE THINGS THAT WE'VE LEARNT ARE NO LONGER ENOUGH
NO LANGUAGE, JUST SOUND, THAT'S ALL WE NEED KNOW
TO SYCHRONIZE LOVE TO THE BEAT OF THE SHOW

-IAN CURTIS

FLORENTINE CODEX - 16 USD
Del Maguey Vida Mezcal, Laird's Bonded Apple Brandy, Bonal Apertif, Lustau Vermut Blanco, Combier Orange Liqueur, Scrappy's Black Lemon Bitters, Bittermens Elemahule Tiki Bitters

CENTURIES HENCE, PERHAPS AN INDIVIDUAL WITH CONSIDERABLE RESOURCES WILL COLLECT, AS A QUAINT HOBBY, CURRENTLY SUPPRESSED RECORDS OF THE OBFUSCATION AT PLAY FROM RAFAH TO THE RIO GRANDE, A 21ST CENTURY PENTAGON PAPERS FOR AN OBVIOUS HOODWINK, A RECORD OF HOW SWIMMINGLY THINGS WERE NOT GOING. THESE DOCUMENTS WILL NOT BE AS INSPIRING AS THE HISTORY OF THE PRE-COLUMBIAN AZTECS.

Even the "Dealer's Choice" option warranted this style of framing:

DIPLOMATIC POUCH
Necessarily Secret Materials
A.Q

YOU MAY IDENTIFY POLITICAL ENEMIES. OR FELLOW TRAVELERS.

This was also the only visit where I hadn't eaten first and could order food, which did not receive menu narrative treatment. But the choice, longed for on every prior visit, has since haunted my dreams:

(Liquor.com has the recipe.)

One last artifact from that visit:

At one of my all-time favorite PDX bars and the guy next to me hit the bartender with four questions back-to-back: 1. What’s the deal with the bar decorations? 2. Does being a bartender make you ambidextrous? 3. Does the shape of the glass matter? 4. Can you make me another gin-forward drink? Bro.

— Dan "Remy" Dickinson (@vjarmy.com) 10:21 PM · Nov 2, 2023

Bartender answered all four in stride and then made him an Alaska, because that’s the kind of unflappable bar I like to drink at.

— Dan "Remy" Dickinson (@vjarmy.com) 10:22 PM · Nov 2, 2023

On Saturday, July 13, 2024, a tragic river accident took Naomi's life, and nearly took Kyle's. I know neither of them personally beyond their work; my heart broke all the same.

On February 10th of this year, a Reddit user on r/Portland reported the bar was closed with a sign on the door that Eater would describe as "definitive, in an abstractly elegiac sort of way":

Life is just a party, and parties weren’t meant to last.
Our privilege, these 4,595 nights. Thank you. Love, KLW et al. exsilium non permanet.

On June 29th, while refreshing my recommendations, my eyes widened when I saw "PERMANENTLY CLOSED" under Expatriate on the list. I would catch up the now months-old news. My heart broke all the same.

As the old post intro goes: This is the latest in the continuing series of me saying goodbye to things I love.

On the Expatriate site, the verb tense has mostly changed from present to past:

"To the best of our ability (COVID was a defining factor for a couple of years) we were always opem (sic) from:
Five o'clock in the afternoon until midnight, 8 days a week."

"Expatriate was all about balanced cocktails, flavorful snacks, and good music."

"We did not accept reservations."

A page labeled "Dine In/Take Out" had changed to a long paragraph dated "January 2nd, 2025", though archive.org snapshots indicate this didn't appear until after the closing:

With no conscious thought, I announcd my arrival at the arch by screaming "Thank you!" at the top of my lungs. I looked at the golden lions perched on the lower fod zure columns. They had nothing to say. And though I wasn't headed toward any kind of intentional outcome, still not having realized what was happening, I screamed the words again, with more force than the first salvo, this, in spite of having just come from the top of my lungs. I settled into the rhythm of the acknowledgment as it transformed into something vicious, helped by inertia now, and so long refined a set of human instructions that it was a flawless response, operating in the complete absence of my input or oversight. In handling this moment lightly I was revealed to be a courier, though it seemsd to came without any special distinction. I did not need to know. I would have gotten in the way. I was surprised by how easily my voice left any familiar register, entering a lesser spoken range of sounds, meant to accompany some hopeless arrival into the pain of a damaging personal betrayal, or in the reversal of a lifetime, of assurances and preparation, a spiritual vivisection, (what's anesthesia?), as if a most holy, truly uncommon love, had capsized, instantly, making then these sorts of strange sounds, but with this bizarre mantra encasing them, every repetition slipping easily into an intensifying, unreliable spiral upwards. My eyes couldn't land,  nothing made sense, I was immediately mwithout the physical ability to focus my pupils or on the  screaming in this ambush of rage with my neck fully exposed, head turned up towards the rafters, waving a flaming piece of wood towards the physical corners of everything around me, the carefully arranged curves, in a reflexive effort to cleanse myself and the beautiful, tireless, timeless room and everything in it, brimming with more psychic energy than any place I've ever been but the Alamo and the Abbia Di'Sant Antimo, but I wasn't thinking about those places then because I was caught off guard by my own violence, and I was angry, if that word were a road sign in to indicate and I didn't know what the point of this was, but I was just screaming, at the top of my lungs, again trying to break through to a Tbinnworld beyond this otherworldly room and I came outside into the cold air to try to calm myself. I locked the door and I'm standing under the bells, still crying for this new year. I can't see really, through my tears, and I'm disoriented a turn further to be tapping this out without pen and paper, so please forgive any errors.

After nearly 2,500 words, there may still be a question to be asked of my intent putting this all together, or at least in this specific way. The answer, not particularly strong:

Existence is fleeting. I accept that everything eventually fades or fall aparts or quietly vanishes. (You should, too.)

As best I can tell, the menu narratives were not retained anywhere else. There are limited few pictures of the menu to be found online. The paragraph above sits on a website that too could blink out like a dying star.

This website also exists, lumbering on for over a quarter century, cataloging the things I choose to remember. This is one of those things, no matter how mundane or trivial it appears. So I have made some space, in the broader chronicle of my life, to enshrine those few cherished visits to the corner of NE Killingsworth and NE 30th Ave. I was not a part of the bar's life, but it was a part of mine.

Perhaps a person a decade from now will hear about this bar and this will help them understand a little more. Maybe I'll just find the post in five years and tear up, thinking "man, that place!". Either scenario is worth enabling.

Transcribing and archiving someone else's words is not as inspiring as the history of the pre-Columbian Aztecs. But, like the False Flag, it is my own prayer to myself.

Exsilium non permanet – exile is not permanent.

On the back of the Expatriate menu, a closing that has stuck with me: