Skip to main contentIt was supposed to be just a party. Who knew it'd end up being Portland's "Last Party"? That's how I think about the first fete for Bluehour, one of the city's most beloved restaurants.
It's hard now to remember how earthshaking it seemed when this elegant eatery opened back in September 2000, as if a slice of Manhattan had crash-landed in the middle of a Pearl on the cusp of turning the corner from hype to reality.
From the get-go, the elegant Bluehour was a huge success. And why not? Owner Bruce Carey had transported the best of his legendary Zefiro (good food, great atmosphere, even better cocktails) into a much larger space. After a year of munching Chef Kenny Giambalvo's perfectly crisp french fries and savoring pastry chef Mandy Groom's well-appointed desserts, it was time to celebrate.
On the night of Sept. 9, 2001, the Bluehour party was set up outside on Northwest 13th Avenue. Gov. John and Sharon Kitzhaber were still very much married and were even sporting matching temporary Bluehour tattoos that night. Pink Martini played songs from a yet-to-be-released "new" album. And tux-wearing party-goers from an earlier gay-rights fundraiser mixed it up with queer boys in cowboy gear.
Two days later, as we all know, the world changed.
Maybe if you don't remember how AIDS changed the world, too, you don't realize how something as insignificant as a party could mark the beginning or ending of an era.
Only in retrospect can we remember how carefree we used to be, back when the idea of the very name of the restaurant, Bluehour, just reminded us of the thin line between day and night.
On the morning of Sept. 11, Carey was as shell-shocked as everyone else by those images of destruction a country away. The second surprise came when he walked into the restaurant that morning, which was "still vibrating from the party," he says, over a niçoise salad last week, before recounting how soon that vibe evaporated.
The restaurant was affected by the aftershocks of 9/11. A downfall in business caused Bluehour to let go of a manager, stop serving lunch and even close an extra day per week. "It was tough," Carey says.
Now, three years later, the economy seems to be finally turning around. Bluehour had a record night recently. Monday service is back, and so's lunch.
And now this Sunday, Bluehour will once again turn Northwest 13th Avenue into one big street party. And yes, Pink Martini is performing again, and this time Thomas Lauderdale's band will be joined by the queer jam band Sneakin' Out and DJ Mr. MuMu.
"There are two reasons to have a party," Giambalvo says. "It feels like a better year, and we wanted to do something for the Portland Public Market." All the proceeds will go to what will be called the James Beard Public Market, in honor of Portland's most famous foodie.
And what might Beard, a big ol' homo if there ever was one, think of a street party that celebrates the end of the downturn by mixing corn on the cob, disco music and hay-bale furniture?
Well, if Beard was anything like Carey and his crew, I'm sure he would say, "Forget about the past. The food, and the party, must go on. It's time to eat."
WWeek 2015