Welcome to the whiskey-fueled ranting of a Portlander-for-life and a recent inductee hailing from Seattle, WA. It is highly unlikely that you will find anything of value, and not a single word written here should be taken seriously. You WILL however find biased opinions, drunken banter and the pure, unadulterated rage from two Northwest culinarians. Enjoy.

14 January 2013

My Father's Place

After another visit to B-side on Friday, my companions, esteemed cohort, and I decided to forsake the clubs and loud bars and went to My Father's Place in search of greasy food, cheap beer, and pool. Most importantly, no cover charge. The food is greasy and yes, I found a hair in it, but that chicken fried steak and eggs at 1:30 in the morning has a special place in my heart. Nothing completes a meal like a Jagerbomb and PBR. I love My Father's Place because you can get cheap diner food til all hours of the morning, the crowd is usually industry and chill people and the drinks are nice and stiff. With old leather booths and carpet from when Christ was a baby, it's place that won't do you wrong.




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