Bistro
Montage
301
SE Morrison St., 234-1324
Mad
Dog Screw Up Mad Dog, orange juice, Sprite ($3)
20/20
XX Vision
Mad Dog, Clear Spring grain alcohol ($4)
Orange
Blossom Special
Night Train, passion orange guava ($4)
Crosseyed
Rosey
Wild Irish Rose, Clear Spring grain alcohol,
grenadine ($4)
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Sometimes you feel like a lush. And sometimes you don't.
In such times of dizzy confusion, refer to the beverage
list at that most schizophrenic of Bridgetown noshpits--the
Montage--which tames the growling livers of both
cash-strapped youth and the wealthier, middle-aged elite.
Poor little hipsters--clearly too impoverished to afford
even shampoo!--swill inexpensive Rainier pounders like
water. Bloated suburbanites, on the other hand, can drain
their wallets with costly shots of Oban single-malt scotch.
And wine? Bottles aplenty.
Montage's most unique offering, though, is its selection
of street wine cocktails. These lo-tek mind melters
have a touch of class (anything with ice is classy to us
neat-shot-and-a-Bud-back types) and appeal to fruity "wine
cooler connoisseurs," yet pack a buzz any lurching sidewalk
boozehound would love. Indeed, they give you the best of
all worlds: It's a wine! It's a cocktail! It's a cheap-ass
Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster ("the effect of [which] is like
having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped
round a large gold brick"--Douglas Adams, Hitchhiker's
Guide to the Galaxy)!
The pick of the litter is the cruelly efficient 20/20
XX Vision. Yup, your old teenage friend in the rectangular
bottle, Mad Dog 20/20, has returned to kick your butt again.
Only this time he's brought his steroid-pumped pal: Clear
Spring grain alcohol, whose 190-proof punch can not only
knock you flat, it can nuke the mildew out of your toilet
bowl. While Mad Dog's gooey juiciness is cloying as always,
the one-two combination of fortified juice and 95-percent-pure
hooch will have its way with your brain. If you're
a brand loyalist, try the Crosseyed Rosey, which
swaps Mad Dog for Wild Irish Rose.
Sweeter, more delicate flowers, however, should irrigate
themselves with the less acidic Mad Dog Screw Up,
which replaces the vodka in a screwdriver with the snarling
canine wine. The result is a citrusy sipper that's surprisingly
light. Even easier to swallow is the Orange Blossom Special,
a pint-sized drink that tries to balance Night Train's urban-blight
thuggishness with a tropical "passion orange guava" potion.
This punchy liquid's so ambrosial your Mom could probably
get into it--provided your Mom's used to passing out at
the bus stop. That's okay, though. You should join her there
at the Tri-Met shelter, because no one should attempt to
drive after slugging a number of these (or any) cocktails.
But then, street wines get their name because many of their
adherents don't have a home, much less a driver's license.
And while $3-$4 for a cocktail ain't much, you could
spend less on a bottle of T-bird and get royally wasted
chez toi.
I guess that's just the price you pay to be seen with The
Cool People. Sigh.
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