Portland’s queer bars are exceptional wonders that unite and protect the community — spaces where we’re free to relax, drink, dance, and even heal. But their food often seems like an afterthought. As fun as it may be to load up the table with wings, fried pickles, and salty soft pretzels for a late night of bingo or trivia with our Judies, not many people go to drag brunch for the eggs Benedict. At times, eating at a queer bar can feel like a last resort — poring over a life-saving basket of freezer-to-fryer handhelds prepped by a thinly resourced kitchen, hastily ordered by revelers to soak up the
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