When a celebrity opens a bar or restaurant, it usually feels like a gimmick, a money grab, or an idle indulgence. They can’t all be Wahlburgers.
But Portland’s a bar town—there is literally no one in the city, famous or otherwise, who I’d be surprised to learn was opening a bar. And in the age of Portlandia and Airbnb, Portlanders’ cultural protectionism only gets more rabid, so when a local celebrity opens a bar, you’re likely to just get a regular ol’ Portland bar.
For proof, check out the brand-new Poison’s Rainbow, from Modest Mouse frontman Isaac Brock and the Title Bout bar group, with food by Ranch Pizza. Yes, there are probably about $5,000-worth of terrariums inside, and yes, the art budget may be unusually high, but with a basic, goofy, and reasonably priced drink menu and excellent food for sharing, Poison’s Rainbow already feels like another comfy neighborhood spot, albeit two notches cooler.
The bar is stocked with just enough slightly out-of-the-ordinary bottles to keep you interested beyond the handful of house cocktails, but those include a gin rickey driven by a surprisingly subtle sage syrup—I’d sworn off this sort of savory cocktail ingredient after being burned one too many times, but this has just enough sage to add some body and weight while keeping the flavors gin-clear (and while most house cocktails are $10, the rickey is $8, which is nice).
The Manhattan is a reliable one, made with Cocchi, barrel-aged bitters, and a little salt on the cherry (just dump it in the glass). I’m not ashamed to admit I literally laughed out loud at the Fat Russian, a White Russian with ice cream instead of cream.
And then there’s the pizza. The Sicilian-/Detroit-style square pies (I’m not picking a side) from beloved pop-up delivery shop Ranch Pizza are perfectly fitted to the bring-your-friends vibe at Poison’s Rainbow. None of the whole pies cost more than $19, and each can easily feed three people. A quarter order was plenty for me, and I’m no slouch in the eating department. The bready pies are thick but not lasagna-deep, and still light enough that you don’t feel like a total monster for dipping them in Ranch’s namesake dressing.
Which, god, have you had Ranch’s ranch? Even one of my stalwart eating companions, a noted poo-pooer of boring, lowbrow, utterly basic ranch dressing, appeared to be shaken to the core of his foodie foundation by how delicious this dressing is. If you’re going to name your company after something, you better do it well, and clearly Ranch Pizza knows that: It’s creamy, garlicky, without extraneous flavors or excessive acid, and it actually plays to the food it dresses instead of just smothering it. Still, it’s delicious when it’s in a starring role, like on a plain breadstick (which, at $4, you definitely want).
Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, the pizza: The #4 (listed sixth on the menu, presumably just to cause fights) is a favorite, with big sausage chunks and dollops of soft, earthy ricotta, and a Hawaiian option with bacon, pineapple, and jalapeño can’t really be improved. The veggie pizza has olives and mushrooms, and its ingredients shine, meaning it tastes like good olives and mushrooms—even when dipped in ranch.
The colors are a little loud in daylight, but they really scream at night, like your dorm roommate’s blacklight poster used to, before he dropped out to pursue his art. Crazy purples, yellows, and greens draw out the colors of the nutty paintings on the walls—a friend describes their gonzo party scenes as “if Egon Schiele went to a 21st-century liberal arts college,” but funnier.
In a lot of ways Poison’s Rainbow feels like a gallery. Even the backbar itself is gorgeous, studded with sculptures and interesting lighting. Recessed against one wall, a deep purple four-sided booth with an intricate, geometric, sort of chaotic chandelier feels like it ought to have a velvet rope around it, but it’s inviting and comfortable for a large group.
And large groups abound, especially on weekends. Whether they come for the novelty of Brock’s attachment, the expertise of the Title Bout crew, or their existing love for Ranch Pizza, the lively clientele is a key factor of the lived-in feel that makes Poison’s Rainbow surprisingly homey—like walking into the basement of that former roommate after he got rich off of his art.
You mean to say “pooh-pooher.”