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Sam Zermeño puts his hooded cloak and robes on one arm at a time just like everyone else.
The head sorcerer at Portland’s Brujos Brewing is known for appearing from the shadows surrounded by mist, his face obscured in photos, draped in an all-black hooded robes and holding a hand-carved pitchfork while presiding over international collaborations with renowned brewers and metal bands like some sort of beer-brewing grim reaper.
Despite appearances, the Tijuana-born and Los Angeles-raised Zermeño doesn’t actually worship Satan or practice magic; however, Brujos is known for “conjuring liquid spells” that make them among the most sought-after Pacific Northwest beers.
“I don the cloak when the moment feels right,” says Zermeño, who has been spending less time both under the cowl and on the brew deck as he becomes the friendly face of the operation. “I used to have a lot more time to devote to it before we actually opened this brewery. Nowadays, I just don’t have nearly enough of it. Being a father, husband, business owner, manager, etc....it’s hard.”
Behind Brujos’ heavily occult-influenced brand is an aesthetic that extends to its often extreme beers like bourbon and rum barrel-aged, black-as-night imperial stouts and triple-dry hopped 13% ABV hazy IPAs so thick with hops to be almost as obscured as the Brujo himself. While its beers are occasionally released and sold for high dollars on the black market, most are only found at what Zermeño calls “The Scorched Church,” where an all-black interior filled with archways, candles, church pews, and lantern-carrying wraiths set the mood.
When he’s not in the office or traveling the world, Zermeño can often be found haunting the taproom sans robe and scythe but almost always in all black with slicked-back black hair and a gray-striped black beard that cuts an intimidating figure. Here’s where he spends a day in Portland:
Brujos Brewing and El Viejon
Zermeño starts his 9–5 at the Scorched Church, Brujos Brewing (2377 NW Wilson St., brujosbrewing.com). Brujos approaches two years of independent operation, so he’s still finding his groove. “Nowadays, I spend most of my time answering emails, ordering stuff, just managing. Every now and then, I get to brew, which is a highlight for me,” he says. “I love brewing. When I need to step in, I am like, ‘Fuck, yeah, dude, I am not touching my computer today, I am not taking any calls or texts.’”
Brujos Brewing is proudly family unfriendly, in that no minors are allowed. Zermeño and his guests wouldn’t have it any other way. “We’ve heard it so many times where customers are like, ‘Thank you so much for not allowing kids here because this is fun, we can talk shit, we can curse, we can be loud and obnoxious, have metal playing…,’” he says. “If we open a second location at some point, we can let that place be kid friendly…but I don’t want to work at that spot.”
A few beer tourists filter in on a quiet Monday hoping to score a can of Brujos’ newest fresh hop beers to take home to family and friends. They’re lucky, this time, as these cans have a tendency to sell out fast. A small crowd of locals are noshing on happy-hour mariscos from the taproom’s in-house kitchen operated by Vancouver, Wash., taqueria sensation El Viejon. Authentic Mexican food is a staple in Zermeño’s diet, fueling his favorite Portland establishments and what he looks for when returning home to SoCal or visiting family in Tijuana.
“I’m not going to say they are the reason I have gained 10 pounds in the last two months, but all those tortillas have not helped,” he says of El Viejon. “The mahi mahi tacos are unbelievable, and the El Gobernador is insane—the tiny little pieces of shrimp inside a quesadilla-ish taco with just the right sauces is so good.”
Machetes/El Trompo Del Diablo at Company
Diego Palacios and his wife, McKenna, started Machetes (instagram.com/machetes.pdx), a Mexico City-inspired pop-up specializing in their namesake street food, in 2023. They happen once or twice a month, often at wine bars like Old Friend or OK Omens. We pull up to Company (916 SE 34th Ave., Suite B, companybar.co), an unassuming little garage wine bar off Belmont where Machetes is trialing out its new concept, El Trompo Del Diablo. On our arrival, Palacios is slicing al pastor from a vertical rotisserie of layered marinated pork like the authentic street food vendors of Mexico. However, this trompo is slow cooked al carbon style: not with propane, but burning charcoal and wood.
Zermeño and Palacios coincidentally met at a concert for the Swedish hard metal band Ghost. They had heard of one another from a mutual friend—Henry Martinez of Mexican-inspired pizzeria Pan Con Queso—but hadn’t yet met. They exchanged contact info and became fast friends. Over bites of blue corn tortillas stuffed with fatty orange pork, chunks of fresh pineapple, cilantro and heart-shaped slices of heirloom radish, Zermeño recalls his first reaction to Palacios’ cooking.
“I’m a foodie and he is into beer,” he says. “It was just a matter of time before two kids from Mexico found each other in Portland. There are not a lot of us. So when I found out about him, I was like, I gotta tell everyone.”
Raven’s Manor
Raven’s Manor (235 SW 1st Ave., ravensmanorexperience.com) is a bit like baby’s first goth bar: a haunted house–inspired tavern with hidden rooms and props, trick paintings and elaborate sets and creatures. Drinks are strong and theatrically served with wild colors in beakers, flasks, cauldrons and glass skulls, sometimes with fire, dry ice and even glowing rechargeable ice cubes. It’s a bar that loves a spooky story. Theirs is of a mad scientist known as Dr. Raven, who throws parties in his manor filled with his monstrous experiments and eventually died after failing to create an elixir for everlasting life.
“Raven’s Manor does not have the best food,” Zermeño says. “The drinks are cool, but I think it’s more about the ambience than anything...it’s like the Haunted Mansion turned into a bar. Places like that inspire me.”
Between sips of Sanderson’s Life Potion, a vodka cocktail with mysterious syrups and warming spices that comes in a witch’s cauldron and must be drunk with a straw so as not to burn your tongue on the dry ice ($15), Zermeno tells me his own story. Metal music, comic books and fantasy pulled Zermeño in as a teenager looking for community.
“I was a bit of a loner then, and like many at that age, I was riddled with angst and anger,” he says. “That’s what drove me to that style of music, I suppose.”
Homebrewing was a hobby he took up after a traumatic accident. Then a truck driver and new father, Zermeño foolishly went rock climbing without any harness or supports and fell, breaking bones in both feet and nearly snapping his Achilles tendon. Full of regret and depression at his situation, Zermeño took up homebrewing while temporarily using a wheelchair, eventually establishing a tricked-out brewing setup and word-of-mouth underground beer club for his homebrews that developed followings of their own. Today, he still lives the metal brewer lifestyle, but now has a wife, teenage son, and a pup to look after.
“Before I started making beer I wanted to be in a band to be a rock star and shit. That just didn’t really work out,” Zermeño says. “I got married and had a kid, and it was like, ‘Now it’s not just me, I need to provide for them now.’ I put the music thing aside and I found brewing after I had my son and got into a foolish accident.”
