Salud!
November 12, 2008
I don't drink. But that doesn't preclude me from meeting a friend for Happy Hour at Sinju, a restaurant in the Portland suburbs. We sit comfortably between the roaring fireplace and the tinted red windows, eating the most divine shrimp tempura I have ever tasted. Cindy Anderson, my friend, is introducing me to just one of the more than 200 fully-rated restaurants and bars in her HAPPY HOUR GUIDEBOOK. It's the third edition, and this one has free coupons and maps, and it's slim enough to slip into a guy's back pocket.
Sinju is not a place I would naturally venture into, but Cindy's description makes it inviting, and I know the neighborhood, so I meet her there. That's exactly the point -- the emphasis is not on the drink, but on the quality of the food and the drama in the environment, and the adventure of trying new places with new friends, or with people you've known a long time.
Cindy tells me that Portland is unique -- it's one of the few cities that has Happy Hour, grown out of a competition between restaurants like McMenamin's and Stanford's.
When I first met Cindy about four and a half years ago, she posted that she was testing Happy Hours and was welcoming assistance. I was dubious -- how could anything around alcohol be good, I wondered. My little joke to guys I date who wonder if they should drink around me is "as long as they stay vertical in their chair, I'm okay with it."
But Happy Hour can actually be happy. It doesn't have to be abused. People don't have to get mean and drunk, and break glass and shove holes into walls and bleed. That typical scene from my childhood is a 180 from the lovely ambience and spectacular food on tidy little plates that Cindy rates in her HAPPY HOUR GUIDEBOOK 2009.
It is a pleasure to re-script, and create new memories.
Although I'll stick with my Diet Coke.
No ice.
No straw.
Salud!
I don't drink. But that doesn't preclude me from meeting a friend for Happy Hour at Sinju, a restaurant in the Portland suburbs. We sit comfortably between the roaring fireplace and the tinted red windows, eating the most divine shrimp tempura I have ever tasted. Cindy Anderson, my friend, is introducing me to just one of the more than 200 fully-rated restaurants and bars in her HAPPY HOUR GUIDEBOOK. It's the third edition, and this one has free coupons and maps, and it's slim enough to slip into a guy's back pocket.
Sinju is not a place I would naturally venture into, but Cindy's description makes it inviting, and I know the neighborhood, so I meet her there. That's exactly the point -- the emphasis is not on the drink, but on the quality of the food and the drama in the environment, and the adventure of trying new places with new friends, or with people you've known a long time.
Cindy tells me that Portland is unique -- it's one of the few cities that has Happy Hour, grown out of a competition between restaurants like McMenamin's and Stanford's.
When I first met Cindy about four and a half years ago, she posted that she was testing Happy Hours and was welcoming assistance. I was dubious -- how could anything around alcohol be good, I wondered. My little joke to guys I date who wonder if they should drink around me is "as long as they stay vertical in their chair, I'm okay with it."
But Happy Hour can actually be happy. It doesn't have to be abused. People don't have to get mean and drunk, and break glass and shove holes into walls and bleed. That typical scene from my childhood is a 180 from the lovely ambience and spectacular food on tidy little plates that Cindy rates in her HAPPY HOUR GUIDEBOOK 2009.
It is a pleasure to re-script, and create new memories.
Although I'll stick with my Diet Coke.
No ice.
No straw.
Salud!
Labels: alcoholism, ambience, book review., Cindy Anderson, HAPPY HOUR GUIDEBOOK 2009, transcending the trauma
posted by Diana Page Jordan @ 11:38 PM
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