Impressions: Double Mountain Brewery

Double Mountain Brewery

8 Fourth Street

Hood River, OR 97031

(541) 387-0042

[Photo courtesy Double Mountain; all others by Adam Lindsley]

One of my biggest frustrations about living in Portland is that no brewery has food to match the quality of its beer. Even the breweries with more skilled chefs in the kitchen, like Hair of the Dog, are really hit-and-miss when it comes to the cuisine. On the non-brewery side, you're stuck with either a place with great food and not-all-that-interesting tap selection (Apizza Scholls, Ken's Artisan) or one with a great tap selection and awful food (Belmont Station, Horse Brass). [Editor's Note: To clarify, you'll always find great beers on tap at both Apizza Scholls and Ken's. I just mean that at either establishment, you're there for the food first and the beer second.] Another problem with the good food/limited taps restaurants is just that: they're restaurants, and you're not encouraged to be leisurely with your time there, which for many (including me) defeats the purpose of drinking beer in the first place.

What the city really needs is a joint making delicious pizza that also brews several fabulous beers. A place like...Double Mountain Brewery.

I first caught wind of Double Mountain when my friend Jim Bonomo reviewed it for Serious Eats. In his very positive review (from which I'll be stealing freely), he noted the pizza's heritage as thoroughly New Haven. For Portlanders who may not immediately know the style, the closest approximation is Apizza Scholls. If that hasn't lit your fuse, then perhaps you should stop reading right now.

Double Mountain's pizzas are 16 inches in diameter, with the end crust lightly charred in places by the 700-degree oven. The bottom of the crust gets the nicest charring, with leopard spots aplenty. Like a good New Haven-style apizza, the bread hosts a nice chew beneath a crunchy exterior. It feels even thinner than the crust at Apizza Scholls, so the front end tends to submit to gravity; just fold it in half lengthwise to avoid unsightly sagging.

The Margherita ($17) is excellent. A bright and fresh-tasting tomato sauce (which you can smell from a block away as you approach the brewery) is applied liberally and topped with both aged and fresh mozzarella. Ample basil and garlic finish off the pie. The flavor profile volleys primarily between the saltiness of the aged mozz and the vibrancy of the tomato sauce, with lots of garlic coming in on the palate at the end. This is a wonderful pizza, and it should not be passed up on any visit to the brewery. Among the five best pizzas in Oregon.

I also sampled the Jersey Pie ($18), which may not be quite as successful as the Margherita but is still supremely satisfying. Here, the tomato sauce base gets a heavy crown of provolone, hot capicola (a cured pork salume), and the always-pleasant Mama Lil's pickled goathorn peppers. My only real complaint with this pizza is that the capicola is sliced too thick, so it doesn't really crisp up in the oven like it should (or rather, like I'd like it to). The provolone isn't noticeably different from the mozzarella on the Margherita, and it's clearly not the sharper piccante version of the cheese, but something much younger. Both the capicola and the Mama Lil's peppers provide a medium level of heat to the pizza, so spicy food haters need not fear breaking out in a sweat over this one.

ADDED 4/22/12 -- It has come to my attention that one of the key reasons Double Mountain's pizzas are so great is because none other than Brian Spangler of Apizza Scholls serves as a sort of "unofficial consultant." In Brian's words: "I want to make sure that people understand that Charlie and the team at DM deserve a lot of credit for what they do. I didn't give them a formula and say "follow this." They care about the product and really took ownership of the program. They watched what we were doing at Apizza Scholls, asked questions, I gave pointers and they ran with it."

I would be remiss not to mention the brewery's excellent lineup of beers, including its stunning Devil's and Rainier Krieks. These cherry sour beers have a higher alcohol content than your typical kriek, and both offer a wonderful balance between the sourness of the yeast and the fruitiness of the cherries (from the brewer's own orchard!) the beers meld with for several months. The current version of the Devil's Kriek on tap is the more sour of the two, with the tang coming from the Brettanomyces wild yeast applied to a brown ale base. A deep cherry red, it's a gorgeous ale, and a very drinkable one. The Rainier Kriek is even easier to drink, with a milder sour body and a golden ale base (fair warning, the ABV for this one sits at around 10%). I sincerely hope Double Mountain continues to brew both of these for the foreseeable future, as I think sour ales are the most exciting beers out there right now. They're certainly among my favorites.

So it was with a frown on my face and a tear in my eye (all right, perhaps I'm exaggerating) that I bid Double Mountain Brewery farewell. Portland has nothing on this scale of great food and great beers in one location (I don't know anywhere else you can order this level of pizza and a sour ale), so we clearly need a Double Mountain outpost as soon as is humanly possible. Naturally, one of the (extremely) unfortunate side effects of moving a place like Double Mountain to Portland is that you would never ever be able to get a table. It's like trying to go out for brunch in this town; you absolutely cannot do it without an agonizing wait no matter where you go. Even in Hood River, with its miniscule population of 7,000 or so, every seat in Double Mountain's taproom was filled at 4:45 on a Thursday afternoon except for one table, which my fiancé and I were lucky enough to snag. That isn't to say I'm not encouraging Double Mountain to set up shop here. I just want them to make sure that, if such a miracle were to occur, that they purchase a gigantic warehouse for the inevitable throngs of people like me who will come knocking on their door night after night after night.

OVEN: Gas-fired brick

RECOMMENDED: Margherita

Impressions: Hotlips

Hotlips

Various Locations

[Photographs by Adam Lindsley]

Frankly, I don't have a lot to say about Hotlips. Their strawberry soda is one of the best nonalcoholic beverages I've ever quaffed, but their pizza is, much like fellow Portland chain Pizzicato, aiming low and hitting the target dead center.

Let's quickly run through the components of the recent half-cheese/half-pepperoni I ordered, one by one:

Crust: Thin, little-to-no rise on the outer rim (thanks to sauce and toppings that go right to the edge of the dough), dusted heavily with semolina on the underside, with not much discernable flavor. Surprisingly, not all that crispy, although I imagine that will change once these slices are reheated.

Sauce: More a tomato paste than sauce, with that dull canned-tomato flavor to it. Not nearly as salty as the Pizzicato sauce, though. Liberally applied.

Cheese: Again, not as salty as whatever Pizzicato is using. The cheese-only slices were almost bland, which surprised me. This aged mozzarella doesn't have much pull to it, either.

Pepperoni: Pretty decent pork/beef flavor, but limp and uncrisped by Hotlips's oven. Again, reheating these slices should rectify that.

Price: Outrageous! An 18-inch cheese pizza here is $21.75. Compare that to the indescribably superior 18-inch Margherita at Apizza Scholls, which comes in at $21, and you'll be left scratching your head at the disparity in quality. The flipside to this coin is that you can get your pizza quickly at Hotlips no matter the hour, which makes it good primarily for children's or office parties, or for a quick (but, notably, not cheap) dinner. It's totally fine New York-style knockoff pizza, but completely unmemorable.

Thankfully, Hotlips does sell individual slices, and I think that's the way to go here. Even their small pizzas are grossly overpriced (they start at $15.50 and just go up and up from there). None of the ingredients are particularly noteworthy, so what is it you're paying for? According to the Hotlips website, it's sustainability and community. Commendable, to be sure, but I only have so much cash budgeted for eating out, and sustainability and community aren't enough to get me to open my wallet for them again.

OVEN: Convection

Impressions: Pizza Depokos (ala Will Fain)

Pizza Depokos (ala Will Fain)

2730 N Killingsworth St.

Portland, OR 97217

(503) 247-7499

[Photographs by Adam Lindsley]

Oh how things can change in a year and a half. Pizza Depokos, one of the city's bright and shining beacons of quality (and sometimes Greek-themed) wood-fired pizza, recently underwent a change of ownership. Dough guru and all-around nice guy Ethan Welt is out, and Will Fain, formerly of Portobello and a bona fide Pizza Obsessive, is in. And lucky for us, it's still a bright and shining beacon of quality (but not really Greek-themed) wood-fired pizza.

Fain's take on the pizza itself isn't an enormous departure from Welt's, but there are some key differences. The Greek-inspired pies are off the menu, with the za'atar (a Middle Eastern blend of thyme, oregano, and other herbs) relegated to a garlic herb flatbread. The menu now consists of six basic pies: marinara, Margherita, cheese, pepperoni, the Rico Suave (with ricotta, aged mozz, garlic, olive oil, oregano, and cracked pepper), and the Sausage y Fromage (aged mozz, fennel sausage, hot peppers, and roasted onions). He also offers a specialty pie or two, which changes daily.

I was curious to see how close Fain's pizzas hewed to the excellent vegan ones he put out at Portobello, and quite rightly I expected the quality to surpass even those with the addition of real cheese and meat. My expectations were certainly met (and exceeded) in the second regard, but in their current form the pizzas have taken a striking shift in identity that will most likely change and change again over the next year.

The current pies are Neapolitan in style. That's certainly due to the drastic switch from Portobello's gas-fired oven to the wood-devouring monster at Depokos. The Portobello pizzas were more of a Neapolitan-New York hybrid, a larger-sliced and crispier-crusted version of an otherwise classic Naples pie. Fain's still learning his new oven and experimenting with the types of wood used to heat it, so the pies coming out of it right now have that traditionally soft Neapolitan crust. Easily foldable for quick consumption, but lacking the crunch imparted by the gas oven, which ran at a much lower temperature than this wood-burning oven and therefore dried out the dough more as it cooked longer.

Which isn't to say the lack of crunch means this isn't great pizza, because it absolutely is. In fact, it's pretty much perfect Neapolitan pizza. So if that's what you want, get to Pizza Depokos ASAP, because Fain's continued tinkering could mean a new style in a day, a week, a month...who knows? Crunchy or soft, Fain knows how to make a good, simple crust from a good, simple dough. The oven blisters and chars the crust beautifully, making for one of the prettiest undercarriage shots I've seen in a while. Look at that thing. Gorgeous, isn't it?

His sauce is chunkier than most, almost salsa-like in texture, though certainly not in flavor. Nay, it tastes of bright, crisp tomatoes and lots of wonderful garlic. And Fain doesn't skimp on it, judging by the particularly saucy Margherita ($12) I ordered. He doesn't skimp on the basil, either, a concept many more-renowned pizzerias across the country seem to be fighting tooth and nail against. The result was a balanced, sterling example of the Margherita, but with a pronounced garlic element. I loved it. Eat it as fast as you can once it emerges from the oven for maximum pleasure.

Since Fain makes his own sausage, I had to try the Fennel Sausage y Fromage ($14). That sausage came out ground a little finer than most, and even though it was studded with fennel seeds, it tasted more strongly of pepper. Fain wasn't particularly pleased with this particular batch, but I liked that it lacked the gristly texture of many a homemade sausage. The softer nature of the sausage contrasted nicely with the sweet, crisp onions, which yielded an audible snap between the teeth. The fiery red and yellow banana peppers packed a quick wallop of heat in every other bite, which paired splendidly with the richness of the meat and islands of milky mozzarella.

Fain stressed that the pizzas are still a work-in-progress, but even so, they're of high quality and absolutely worth a visit. They cook ridiculously fast in that oven, so you can satiate your pizza cravings however quickly you can get yourself to the Killingsworth & Greeley North Station cart pod. The best part about it this particular pod? Depokos (name change eventually to come) is housed in an old garage heated not only by the wood-burning oven but by overhead heat lamps, so rain, sleet, or snow, you'll never find yourself shivering as you eating your pizza. Shivering with pleasure, maybe, but not from the cold.

OVEN: Wood

RECOMMENDED: Margherita, Fennel Sausage y Fromage (probably the others as well, but I haven't tried them yet)

Impressions: Sunshine Tavern

Sunshine Tavern

3111 SE Division St.

Portland, OR 97202

(503) 688-1750

[Photo: Portland Mercury]

While much talk has been made in the early reviews about how much Sunshine Tavern isn't much of a tavern at all (true), virtually no attention has been paid to the pizzas. And while they're not like to swear anyone off Ken's or Scholls, I have to say that they're quite fine, and better than expected for a place that doesn't even specialize in pizza.

[All remaining photos by Adam Lindsley]

Let's start with the crust. It hits the table hot from the gas deck oven with a crisp, bubbly shell that crackles nicely when bitten into or folded, yielding to a somewhat dense, bready center. Co-owner Jenn Louis experimented with the dough until settling on a version using high-gluten flour, salt, water, yeast, and a little olive oil. It's not the absolute most flavorful crust you'll ever eat, but it's far from bland, and that alone puts Sunshine Tavern above 75% of everyone else slinging pies in this town.

The tomato sauce on the pepperoni pizza ($14) wasn't memorable, and spread pretty thin. Thankfully the creamy fior di latte (that's fresh cow's milk mozzarella to you) has plenty of rich milky flavor, and the pepperoni from Molinari Salame is cut paper thin, crisping up in the oven and offering a both crunch and a little kick of spice. The sliced red onions are a nice little touch, imparting even more crunch and, occasionally, that unmistakable onion flavor into the cheese and sauce. Altogether it's far from a blow-your-mind pepperoni pizza, but it's a wholly solid one.

I liked the NY white pie ($14) even more. The ricotta isn't spread on too heavily, as is often the case with many white pies, and the same great fresh mozz makes a reappearance. But the best thing about this pizza? The sprinkling of fresh thyme. It really cuts through the richness of the cheeses and balances out the fats. Pair it with a pint of Upright Brewing Four and you are set, my friend.

Sunshine Tavern features two other pizzas on their current menu: one topped with parmesan, wild oregano, olive oil, and a hen egg, and one topped with zucchini, oil-cured olives, red onion, tomato, and fontina. Both sound good, and on my inevitable return to this establishment, I will absolutely order them. Unless of course they've been replaced by something else, in which case I won't, now will I?

Proprietors David Welch and Jenn Louis have a great little place here with Sunshine Tavern. They make a good burger, and the soft serve honey ice cream from Fifty Licks they're serving right now is out-of-this-world delicious (I would avoid the housemade chocolate "magic shell," though, which tastes strongly of chemicals to my palate). Service was spot on and very friendly. And they have shuffleboard! A welcome addition to the neighborhood (as if you didn't have reason enough to dine out on Division).

OVEN: Gas

RECOMMENDED: NY White Pie (and don't forget that ice cream!)

Impressions: Sizzle Pie

Sizzle Pie

624 E Burnside

Portland, OR 97214

(503) 234-7437

[Photographs by Adam Lindsley]

With so many good pizza options in Portland, it's rare for me to go out of my way for a New York-style slice. Finding a good example of the form outside NYC itself is like rooting for treasure in a piranha tank: you might strike gold, but more often than not, you're just going to get bit. (Wow, my analogies are really getting rusty.) So far I've found one, count it, one great slice joint in the Pacific Northwest (Giannoni's in West Seattle) and a lot of totally fine if unremarkable ones serving completely acceptable pizza. Sizzle Pie is one of the latter.

For hangover food, it's prime. Greasy crust, salty cheese, and processed meats; it gets the job done. The crust itself has good flavor. Early reports found it lacking salt, but based on my recent meal there, they solved that little problem.

Sizzle Pie sells whole pizzas, as well as pizza by the slice. As an added bonus, they also sell half-slices (called cuts), making it a ridiculously inexpensive prospect to sample several types of pizza on any given visit. Tonight I ordered cuts of the D-Beat (cheese), Ace of Spades (pepperoni), and Francesca (jalapeños, pineapple, and smoked mozzarella).

I've thought long and hard about how to describe the D-Beat ($1.50/cut) and Ace of Spades ($1.75/cut), and after hours (okay, seconds) of contemplation the only word that comes to mind is fine. The pizza is just fine. It's good for what it is, which is cheap thin-crust pizza with minimal sauce and cheese. Surprisingly, the flavor of the pizza could almost be described as slightly muted, which is why I highly recommend dousing your slices in Aardvark sauce.

I do wish the slices hadn't been so limp, though if I had ordered whole slices instead of my half-slices, I could have folded them (will have to remember that next time). And I wish the cheese element would have been stronger. But the crust itself is pretty tasty, which is a huge hurdle Sizzle Pie has overcome. It gets some nice char in their deck oven, though char really isn't what you're tasting. It's just a well-salted, crunchy-rimmed wedge of salt and flour. And it's good like that.

The Francesca ($1.75/cut) was a little more interesting. The jalapeños come with plenty of seeds intact, so they go off like firecrackers in your mouth. For those who laugh at the thought of food being too spicy, by all means give this one a shot. Me, I had to ditch some of my peppers to keep my entire jaw from going numb. The downside to the steel-toed kick of the jalapeños is that they completely overpowers any subtlety in the smoked mozzarella; you could have told me it was Daiya and I would have believed you.

Speaking of Daiya, Sizzle Pie does offer vegan options for those of that persuasion. On this matter I will speak no more.

Is Sizzle Pie the Great Portland Hope for New York-style slices? No, unfortunately it's not. But if you're in the neighborhood it's a no-brainer, and they're open until 4 a.m. on the weekends (!) for the hardcore night owls. If I lived within short walking distance I'd hit it up all the time for the bargain aspect alone. As it stands, I'm much closer to Straight from New York Pizza, which is actually a bit better.

OVEN: Gas

RECOMMENDED: Ace of Spades and a squeeze bottle of Aardvark sauce