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There are no bibles at Bible Club (6716 SE 16th Ave., 971-279-2198, bibleclubpdx.com). And there's no sign on the 100-year-old house's front door aside from a little scraped-in insignia, plus a green light that serves as the only indication a bar is open within. The side-road speakeasy is a Prohibition-theme bar so oddly sincere and unhip in its dedication that it flips the script on authenticity.
Its bartenders are very serious about housemade tonic and edible flower garnishes, and its very serious chef—a slightly underutilized Anthony Cafiero, formerly of Ración—turns out amazing French onion soup and lovely potatoes with "melted leeks."
Owner Ryk Maverick spent 20 years collecting antiques, and with nameable exceptions every item in the new bar is about a century old, from great-grandma crystal glasses to handmade doilies to the huge "Bible Club" meeting sign behind the bar to a sewing pinking device used to pretty up orange-peel fronds. The tables are old. The chairs are old. And at least half the customers in the packed bar are old—a product of the neighborhood, the $12-to-$14 drink prices and an affable approachability uncommon to the modern mixology bar.
It's Epcot Center for pre-Prohibition drinks, with servers in flapper garb who make the place feel like date-night theater. Everything is wonderful and wildly expensive, made with ingredients that land on very few shelves, whether a $14 Acts of Contrition pisco drink that comes with floating edible flowers, to a balanced and deep $14 Dip the Bill made with bits of orange zest flamed into Prohibition Edition Cutty Sark, Italian-style bitter, genepy and curaçao. One grievance? For the gin served with a dry-tart housemade tonic (a steep $12), the bar apparently bought up almost all of the aged Citadelle in the state. The wondrous gin would be better left alone, or in my cupboard. But otherwise, consider Bible Club a lovely indulgence you should visit at least once, with the appropriate date.
Willamette Week
