MARTIN CIZMAR would
like to correct last week’s Scoop, which said Cascade Brewing Barrel
House’s 12.66 percent alcohol Bourbonic Plague is the strongest beer
brewed in Portland. Turns out, Tugboat Brewing Chernobyl Stout is 13.5 percent ABV. He discovered this on his own and felt terrible as he sipped a half-pint of it. He also thinks The Wurst
might be a doubly ironic hipster bar disguised so perfectly as a dive
that even he was fooled. He is still occasionally awakened by a
nightmare in which he repeats his mistaken claim that Lardouses
duck fat, instead of high-grade pork fat, to cook its fries. Also, he
would like to apologize for any confusion caused by a joke about Cascade
Station (better known as “the stores by IKEA”) replacing Division Street as the city’s culinary promised land.
MATTHEW KORFHAGE would like to place egg on his own face for incorrectly attributing Stone Barn Brandyworks’ Golden Quince Liqueur
to its rival from across the river. Clear Creek Distillery makes no
quince-related items. This mistake was especially regrettable because
the Golden Quince was the best local liquor he tried this year. (He
also regrets that someone stole the bottle from the WW office, in apparent agreement.) Additionally, he offers sincerest apologies to Casa de Tamales—our
winner in a recent tamale taste-off—for not (yet!) returning a steamer
pot he’d borrowed from the Milwaukie shop. He also still has a sex-toy
box that doesn’t belong to him, and a whistle made out of a bullet.
REBECCA JACOBSON must confess that after Portland Center Stage stopped offering press tickets to the Portland Mercury, she may have subconsciously pulled a few punches with A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
It was respectable and occasionally luminous, but those incongruous
costumes? Those daffy sound effects? That hamming up of Shakespeare’s
language? Come on, audiences are smarter than that. But she also thinks It Ain’t Nothin’ but the Blues
might have deserved a more favorable assessment. It was a powerfully
performed jaunt through musical history and closed the PCS season on a
wishes to retract a few grades he handed out during his brief tenure as
movie editor. Although he stands by his reviews, upon subsequent
screenings, Prometheus deserves a B+, as does The Dark Knight Rises, which should get dropped a full letter grade for the Marion Cotillard death scene alone. He also regrets giving Café de Flore
the equivalent of an F. It deserves an as-yet-invented symbol denoting
the desire to go back in time and blind the writer-director before the
movie was made. Oh, he also feels bad for throwing an octogenarian Rose Festival queen
under the bus, though he defaults to the excuse all journalists use
when faced with their bad decisions: His editor made him do it.