![]() If history is what you’re after, a ramble through Old Town-Chinatown will take you to some of Portland’s oldest bars, most of which include some fascinating anecdotes on the city’s seedy past due to the Shanghai Tunnels. Read on to discover 10 of Portland, Oregon’s best bars for everyone’s taste. Whether it be trendy cocktail lounges or old-time staples, Michelle DeVona says there’s certainly a scene for everyone, be it classy, hipster, or dingy dive. Portland’s bar culture is a conglomeration of the old and new. That shouldn’t be a problem.10 of Portland, Oregon’s Best Bars for Everyone’s Taste Word of warning: Both the p’yro and the regular pizzas get soggy if you try to save them overnight in the fridge, so eat it while it’s hot. I prefer the pizzas to the muddled p’yro, but it certainly is a food-as-statement piece. It’s huge, messy, and decidedly the shop’s breakout hit-on our visit they handed out coupons after running out of the house sauce. Pick a pizza of your choice, and they will fold it in half and toss in soy curls, a dousing of spicy-sweet house sauce, and lettuce, wrapping it all in gold foil. In a true sign that GSMP is here to throw any sense of vegan austerity out the window of its space, shared with vegan bakery Shoofly, it’s the p’yro ($13), the fusion of pizza and a gyro. The Brother Wilton ($12), gives a nod to greenery by adding broccoli to a “bacon” pizza with ranch. The aforementioned pizza is surprisingly spicy, with taco-spiced crumbled tofu, chipotle creme, cilantro, and tomatoes. There’s no pretense of health food or activated charcoal ice cream here: these are 10-inch pizzas with names like Chalupa Batman ($12) with even bigger flavors. Open Wednesday to Saturday, the Secret Pizza Society-from a catering team called the Great and Secret Motion Pizza (GSMP)-has a delightfully Old Portland vibe, complete with zines, VHS tapes, and cassettes for sale along with the plant-based pies. So, as I bit into the (I seriously can’t believe it’s not) buttery crust at the Secret Pizza Society, an all-vegan pop-up on Northeast Glisan in Montavilla, Fabio rode shotgun in my mind, incredulous as ever. This is because anytime I’m faced with dairy replacements, I think of his thick-Italian-accented declaration of “I can’t believe it’s not butter!” from commercials of yore. I often think about Fabio, the long-haired romance novel model who once got hit in the face by a goose while riding a roller coaster. I’d go this route so that you can: 1) avoid traveling to the Pearl 2) avoid hearing Smash Mouth TWICE on the restaurant’s inexplicably ’00s playlist, and 3) take off your pants before you eat that much dairy. The Star delivers via Caviar and will even send it half-baked so you can finish it in your oven. The menu also features thin crust pizzas (why, though?) and standard sides, like some forgettable baked wings and better-than-expected wedge and goddess salads, all just $5 at happy hour. Instead, the slightly spiced meatball pizza ($23 small, $31 large), dolloped with ricotta, was more flavorful, even if we had to pick off onions that were cut far too large. Here, the Little Star ($23 small, $31 large), with spinach mixed with ricotta and feta, onions, mushrooms, and super crispy roasted garlic, was bland overall. Typically, the best topping (fight me) for deep dish is spinach, which gives an earthy edge to such a decadent pie. The tomato sauce spread atop all that cheese is a touch too acidic and somehow the whole concoction lacks oomph. It has, in fact, won an international pinsa award. And bear with me: a pinsa with caper mayonnaise, tuna belly, and buffalo mozzarella ($18) sounds like an incredibly bad Japanese Costco pizza (in fact, it probably is), but here, it’s not only beautiful to look at, it’s really tasty, balanced with hot chilis and pickled red onions. Another pinsa with tomato, lamb sausage, and oyster mushrooms gets a subtle Mediterranean treatment, with tzatziki and mint ($18). Get that buffalo mozz with tomato, fried eggplant, pecorino cheese, and basil ($17) it’s salty, nuanced, and hearty in a way that pepperoni only dreams of. Owner Gianluca Legrottaglie pulls ingredients from Italy and the US, including a super-rich buffalo mozzarella from Ramini Mozzarella, a woman-owned business from a small town in Marin County, California. With it comes an electric oven specially ordered for pinsas, which achieves bubbling and just the right touch of char. The Northwest Hoyt location, which opened in December, is the second. ![]() Montesacro, named for a Roman neighborhood, brought the first pinsas in the US to San Francisco in 2015 to much buzz and acclaim. It’s the kind of restaurant that excels at buying good cheese, meat, and veg, combining it well, and then getting out of the way.
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