The Tannery Bar (5425 E Burnside St., 236-3610) is the location's former business, Skin & Bones, stripped of fat and cured in alcohol. The tiny room consists of a one-plank bar, a pair of communal tables and a chocolate Lab half asleep near the record players as if music were a warm fire. But the seeming simplicity of the bar and menu are deceptive. A $12 charcuterie plate was recently laden with spicy chorizo Navarre from Olympic Provisions, marbled meat from Seattle, a deeply fenneled salami from Portland's Chop and—oh, man—some amazing salty pork shoulder from Iowa. The accompanying bread was mere distraction from the meat show. Meanwhile, a 4-inch-thick ham and Gruyere Monte Cristo ($12), served with marionberry preserves, looked like French toast that had decided to go into pornography. The house drinks are similarly decadent and surprising. The Suisse-Sour ($9) was the standout, with bitters and herbal Fernet Vallet deepening the tart combo of Cherry Heering and citrus juices, but the bar also stocks dry, oaky ciders and keeps a sour beer perennially on tap—currently Petrus Oud Bruin. But whatever its comforts, the Tannery Bar's remote location, Gasthaus architecture and spare wood framing give it a certain self-contained, Teutonic distance. One feels less at home than as though treated to unexpected hospitality in an obscure land somewhere in the mountains of Tabor.