The Original restaurant in downtown Portland is the perfect destination for unexpected all-day Portland dining. Our inspired menu of eclectic American cuisine takes on regional favorites and modifies them with local and seasonal ingredients resulting in flavors and textures unique to the Pacific Northwest.
One of our favorite things, since the day we opened, has always been our Soda Jerk Program.
As our menu suggests, our bar is inspired by the traditional soda fountain and the soda jerks who ran them. That means we’ve concocted our own line of housemade sodas, made with natural ingredients to cure what ails you, whether you’re tummy aches or whether your free radicals are getting a bit too aggressive.
Needless to say, we also have a soft spot for the soda jerks who evolved into the pharma-bartenders who mixed, muddled, shook and stirred into their signature soda recipes the bitters, fruits and spirits that encouraged us to collectively celebrate our health, even as we drank to it.
You’ve probably already tried at least one of our specialty sodas as is, or even one of the cocktails we’ve built around them, including our Five Flower (Flora Fizz), Honey Grapefruit (Paloma), Lemongrass Tonic (Tom Collins) Sarsaparilla (Sin in Sioux City) sodas.
But if you haven’t seen us in a while, our talented team of soda jerks went and dreamt up a couple of keepers.
Everybody likes Lemonade, but one thing that trumps it is a fine Rhubarb Lemonade, which we make by simmering together chopped rhubarb, orange blossom water, red wine vinegar and the rinds and juices from freshly squeezed lemons. Add a shot of vodka and you’ve got what we’re calling a Barb Daly, like a John Daly, but better, and far superior still to the temperate Arnold Palmer that spawned it all.
If you’re not in the mood for that, how about something orange and fizzy? Our Tangerine soda, like the Pink Lemonade, is a concoction of natural ingredients, all of which is boiled, simmered, steeped and into a simple syrup comprised primarily of tangerine, lime and lemon juices.
But what can you do, really, with an orange drink? Add a shot of vodka? Perhaps. A shot of whiskey. Probably not. We’re choosing instead to use it as the base for our re-imagined egg flip, our frothy, Pisco Soury Tangerine Dream.
Feeling down? Feeling blue? Come see our pharma-bartenders, tells them your symptoms and see if we can’t lift your spirits and lower your blood pressure, whether you skip the booze or not.
OG sous chef and (as you can tell by the photo) musician, Erica (nee, Dunham) Norris, will soon be leaving us to live abroad. Earlier this year, she completed our employee questionnaire. These are her answers. Auf Wiedersehen, Erica! We’ll miss you!
Erica Norris hails most recently from Portland, Oregon, but she’s lived all over the world. She joined The Original in 2009 as a prep cook, before working her way up to saute cook. She is now a sous chef.
When not working, I spend my time: mostly on music and audio production, reading fancy books on cooking and audio engineering. Oh, and watching my husband play Skyrim. I do not understand the newfangled videogame systems.
“If I weren’t ALIVE, I would be a ZOMBIE, because I WANT TO INHERIT THE EARTH.”
The genre of music that would score my life would be: It would start out with some great epic classical pieces (Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5, Prokofiev’s “Alexander Nevsky”), fading into Neil Diamond’s “Coming To America” (because it’s a great upbeat song about coming to America, or something), then some Johnny Cash and Louis Clark (it’s the kind of music I grew up on), followed by an obligatory pause in good music (New Kids On The Block). Then it would be one big mash-up track of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Immortal, Burzum, Lustmord, Brian Eno, Rammstein, Nine Inch Nails, Cat Power, 16 Horsepower, Front242, and Skinny Puppy.
Dogs or cats: I like both, but my husband and I have one cat whose name is Balrog, and she more than makes up for having a dog as well. She likes to stick her head in cups and eat plastic.
My favorite season is: Summer, because I am a total pansy when it comes to weather below 70 degrees, and I don’t like wearing 30 layers of shirts, sweaters, gloves, scarves; it’s too much and I hate buying clothes.
Of all Original dishes, my favorite is: (appetizer) cheese-curd stuffed pretzel bites with the honey mustard and bacon ketchup—great pub grub food; (addicted to) our Oregon salad—because beets, chevre, and hazelnuts work so well together; (entree) our BBQ Chicken with braised greens; (dessert) I’d eat whatever our pastry chefs threw at me, because it would be that good.
Library, cinema or music club: Libraries are too quiet. Cinema, too many people for my comfort in the same room. Music club would probably be my first choice, because I love music and I don’t have to talk to anyone if I don’t want to!
Beatles or Stones: No.
Automobile, bike, bus or foot: I have been blessed by being born with two feet, so I used them as frequently as possible, and best of all, it is free.
Toilet paper (over or under): under. Yes, I am particular on this.
My secret talent is: I can play a song on the piano after listening to it and/or tell you what key it is in.
My first words were: “No.” I was such a talkative baby (not really).
I was named after: my great grandmother, who was German, and her name was Erika.
I put on hotdogs: Make it a Chicago dog.
The last book I read was: Ferran Adria’s The Family Meal. I love this book!
My favorite Portland spot is: My music studio.
If I were to make a bumper sticker, it would read: The closer you get, the slower I’ll drive.
We’re sorry, baby. We never knew it’d make you feel so blue. So we’re bringing it back. Because you asked. Because we hear you. Because we feel you.
We know you miss that Highland Oak Happy Hour Burger on those old Happy Hour menus. That’s why we’ve brought it back.
And let us tell you something else. Because we want you to know we that we mean what we say, we’ve brought back the Original Happy Hour Cocktail, too. And to show you we’re serious, we’re tripling down on it.
That’s right, baby. Our everchanging Daily Punch is always good, but you mean much more to us than just that. That’s why each and every Happy Hour, you can choose from three discounted specialty cocktails, including our tequila-driven Paloma, our Hemingway (like a Mojito, but real different, too) and the vodka-based Barb Daly (like a more inspired John Daly, which, itself, is really just an Arnold Palmer with booze).
And because we know how much home means to you, you can always join us each and every Wednesday night, where you can belly up to the bar and let Jessica, our Queen of Cocktails (and yours) guide you through the intricate world of locally made craft spirits. On our Homegrown Wednesdays, she’ll take something old and make it new again, just for you.
So forgive us. Let us make it all up to you. Come on in and let us make you a nice drink. Join us, because just look at you. You need to eat. You look like you could use some Poutine and some Scotch Eggs. Let us make you a towering, half-pound, grass-fed cheese burger.
Our new Happy Hour menu is our way of telling you everything’s gonna be alright.
Because it’s gonna be.
Let’s get right to meat of it. If you order our Grilled Shrimp Cocktail, the first thing you’ll notice when it comes to your table is that it’s served with a face—three of them, to be exact.
Don’t be alarmed. Any chef worth his or her Danscos will tell you that what’s inside the the head is the tastiest part of a shrimp.
Most likely invented in New Orleans in the early 20th century, the shrimp cocktail had long been a favorite summer barbecue food, but seemed to lose its luster in that century’s waning years.
But just like about everything else these days, it’s waxing its way back to backyard grills and supper club menus everywhere.
And while do leave on the heads of these Gulf of Mexico prawns, we do de-shell their bodies before charring them on the grill and propping them all up on a small stalk of grilled Romaine lettuce.
Of course, you can’t have a shrimp cocktail without the cocktail, and our cocktail sauce, served in a little glass boat, is a keeper, made with tomatoes, parsley, finely minced onions, celery and fennel and seasoned with freshly grated horseradish.
So, once you’ve eaten their meaty centers, what do you do with the heads?
You could (if you’re brave) just pop them in your mouth and eat them, crunchy bits and all. Many before you have.
But most simply pluck up the head by its antennae and suck out the tasty bits inside.
That’ll impress your date. Just don’t go overboard and try to impress him or her by eating the tail. That would be gauche, and you might come off as a little desperate.
But eat that head, and whomever it is you are trying to impress will be bound by the spell of your very own cool that you’ve most certainly cast over them.
Whether or not the story (or, maybe, the fable) of how British colonists willed into existence the IPA carries any water, one thing is certain, and that’s that Pacific Northwestern craft brewers took the idea of fermenting heavily hopped beers and gave it longer, stronger legs by hopping them even more.
Nowadays, any independent brewer can’t help but produce at least one out-of-the ordinary, robust, signature IPA.
But the boys who run the Double Mountain Brewery in nearby Hood River go a step further, tickling the pinks of beer enthusiasts everywhere, by taking a traditional Irish Red Ale and hopping it enough to turn it into an India Red Ale.
Moderately malted with caramel notes, this rich cloudy, rusted amber brew, one of the first beers DBM produced, is generously hopped for a red ale, but not as aggressively as a typical PACNW IPA.
In fact, the beer is kind of like a satyr—although whether the goatier parts represent England or Ireland we’ll leave up to you, depending on which isle you favor most.
And it’s an all-around pub beer, meaning it goes well Cheeseburgers, Fish ‘n’ Chips, Scotch Eggs or just about anything salty and crunchy.
If you haven’t yet tried one, do, because we’ll rotate out the IRA once its keg runs dry.
What makes a BLT one of the world’s most enduring and beloved sandwiches (especially in both Britain and the U.S.)?
It’s not the tomatoes, the lettuce, the aioli or even the bread, although making sure that all of these ingredients are of the highest quality certainly won’t hurt.
What makes a BLT a great sandwich, is, of course, the bacon.
Swap out those crispy strips of smoky, salty goodness for another meat and you’ve got what’ll be considered by most a pretty boring sandwich (sorry chickens and turkeys, but you’re just too blah to properly mingle with the sandwich’s subtle flavors).
And our BLT, classic and nearly archetypal, is made with thick slices of tomatoes, crispy sheets of butter lettuce and our housemade shallot aioli, all of which is sandwiched, with the bacon, between two crisply toasted slices of freshly baked como bread, courtesy of Grand Central Bakery. Como, for those who may be asking, is basically white bread, but an artisan white bread in the rustic Italian tradition.
But there is one way to differentiate your archetypal BLT from its peers, and that’s by transforming it into a BLAT, which means to it adding several thick slices of avocado, which may be high in fat, but it’s the kind of fat that’s good for you and your ticker.
Not worried about your ticker, and still think is needs a little extra push, that little extra something?
Why not order a BLAST, as does one of our regulars—the S, in this case, designating cheese, Swiss cheese.
You know what tastes better than a nice, cold, flavorful craft beer? A cold, flavorful miracle craft beer.
Drawing on traditions passed down from the ancient Sumerians, the Egyptians and the medieval Germans, Belgian Trappist monks have long been brewing some of the world’s tastiest ales.
And perhaps the most famous of those ales are those crafted by the monks at a little Belgian abbey known as the Notre-Dame de Scourmont.
Their beer, of course, comes to the market under the imprint we know as Chimay.
Of the three different styles they produce (they actually produce a fourth that they make only for themselves), we decided to go with Chimay Blue, a dense, creamy and slightly peppery ale that packs one heckuva kick (it’s got an ABV content of 9 percent).
Made with well water inside the abbey, the monks brew and ferment the ale on-site, then ship it to a bottling plant, where it’s poured into stubby, little bullet bottles and fermented again for nearly a month before it’s finally shipped all over the world.
In true Trappist tradition, the monks, who have vowed themselves to a life of simplicity, use a small amount of their profits to maintain the abbey. But the rest, they give away to countless charities.
Served in a snifter so that the ale can properly breathe, this tasty beer won’t just make you feel good (that 9 percent ABV is nothing to sneeze at), it’ll make you feel good, knowing that the money you spend on it is going to help those from whom a good glass of beer is but a luxury.
Cheers!
We know, we know. We serve comfort food. We take pride in serving comfort food. Big plates of delicious, well-prepared traditional, diner fare that does what it’s supposed to do: fill you up, leave you happy and, if we’re lucky and we’ve done it correctly, remind you of what is was like, even if it’s for just a second, to be a child once more.
But sometimes, for some of you, an awful lot can be too much, especially first thing in the morning. While anything that needs hollandaise or maple syrup will most certainly give you the energy you need from your day’s most important meal, it can often digest a little too slowly, you know?
We do. That’s why we figured it’s time to give you not just a light breakfast option, but a spiritually healthy one, too.
Ergo: the Bikini Diet.
As you can deduce by the accompanying photograph, it’s pretty much exactly what it looks like.
Half a sliced avocado? Check. A ramekin of toasted Marcona almonds? Yep. Another ramekin of cottage cheese? Certainly. Half-a-grapefruit? It’s there. And, like a bow on a present, a little salad of wild baby arugula, lightly tossed with our lemon-olive oil vinaigrette.
Not only will it fill you up, you can snack and nibble until you’re plate is clear and feel feel pretty good about it, both during and after your meal.
And if all that sounds a little too goodie-goody, you can always cut it with a Bloody Mary.
When it comes to knife-and-fork beers, the first draught that almost always first comes to mind is a creamy, rich and opaquely dark stout.
But there’s another classification of knife-and-forkers out there that we often overlook: the Belgian Ale. And right now, we’re pouring a very popular one on draught until its keg run dry.
Deschutes Brewery‘s Stoic isn’t, technically, a Belgian Ale—it’s an experimental Belgian-style ale first brewed five years ago in nearby Bend, and it’s been evolving ever since.
Coppery in color, subtle hoppy and undoubtedly complex—you’re tasting pilsner malts, Belgian candy sugars and traces of pomegranate and molasses—the Stoic’s unusual flavor profile is exponentially compounded because of how it’s stored.
Instead resting in vats of stainless steel, the Stoic gets to stretch out its legs in aged barrels that once held pinot noir and whiskey.
Tangy, fruity and sweet, this ale is for the intrepid and the adventurous—it has an ABV content of 11 percent—so much so that it would be irresponsible of us to serve it in anything other than a brandy snifter. Plus, the snifter’s shape is the preferred receptacle for such a draft. You know, so it can breathe a little, like a fine wine.
And while it may seem formidable, it is, in fact, a wonderful beer to pair with white meats, like our fit-for-a-Viking-yet-tender-enough-fur-for-his-Queen Braised Pork Shank, or our Crab-Stuffed Trout, both of have flavors that mingle smoothly with the Stoic’s tangy taste.
Don’t eat chicken, pork or fish? Don’t worry. You can always pair a Stoic with our Chickpea & Quinoa Veggie Burger, or virtually all of our meatless daily Pasta Specials.
So, skip the wine every once in a while. Who needs it when you can have beer?
Maybe it’s because it is the 21st century (which may mean we’re too busy impressing our dates…when we’re not ignoring them in favor of our 21st-century smartphones), but we seem to have lost our bacchanalian ways.
Time was, we’d call someone (or even email them). Now we shoot them a text. And somewhere along the way, long before smartphones, we chose forks and knives over our hands and teeth when digging into something meaty and juicy.
We’ve not only lost touch with our inner-Berserker, we can’t even remember its milder and, some would say, more sophisticated Viking and Caveman cousins.
Recently, its seems like the only things we’ve got to stir those old cellular memories are, you know, those Renaissance Faire drumsticks. And those are but available what, maybe for a few weeks, once a year?
But that was then.
If our Braised Pork Shank doesn’t rouse those old memories and inspire to skip the fork and knife…well, then you are quite civilized. But then again, maybe your date would be more impressed if you did go the old hands-and-teeth route (would not a man be jelly in the hands of a woman who ate like a Viking?).
Cured with garlic, coriander, salt, sugar and other spices, and cooked in its own fat, our meaty, cudgel-shaped Shank is so tender that it just clings to, rather than completely slides off, the bone.
And it’s accompanied by a quartet of artfully piled Bacon Apple Fritters, little doughy fried balls seasoned with cinnamon and, you guessed it, bourbon. Because, why not?
And because it’s such a pretty package we put a bow on it—in this case, a small salad comprised of apple shavings, basil and thyme.
So, jaws or fork, how you eat it all is up to you. But if you do choose to use your fork, why not be a little transgressive eat that small salad with your fingers.
You may not impress your date, but you’ll impress us.
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