The daily Astorian. (Astoria, Or.) 1961-current, July 09, 2015, Image 32

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    GRAB BAG book shelf • glimpse • wildlife • pop culture • words • q&a • food • fun
Blackberry Mojito
Photo by Matt Love
The Screw and Brew adds a little punk rock to Cannon Beach.
An occasional feature by MATT LOVE
Screw and Brew
I had an hour to kill in Cannon Beach before being interviewed
for a top-secret documentary film.
Why not kill that hour with a beer? Why not kill it inside the Can-
non Beach Hardware and Public House, or Screw and Brew as it’s
colloquially known. I’d never been there before, heard great things
about it, and well, I also needed some batteries for my camera.
I walked inside and took a seat in the bar area. I instantly dug
the décor: funky, kitsch, utilitarian, a little Bohemian, a little cheeky,
too. The condom packages posted on either side of a mounted,
painted, crosscut saw blade were an especially amusing touch.
Maybe Cannon Beach is a little more ribald than I thought.
There was even a lending library near a window, which
soothes my soul as an author. Naturally, I stashed one of my books
in there. Maybe someone will steal it.
An ale brewed in some desert city of Eastern Oregon appealed
to me. I ordered it and looked over to a table hosting an attractive
family of five with three children under the age of 8 or 9. Every one
of the kids was fiddling on a fancy phone while the parents sipped
margaritas in silence.
Coloring is dead.
The beer arrived, and it tasted good. The NBA finals were un-
derway on television, and I heard someone waxing about the
Portland Trail Blazers, circa 1977, and how Larry Steele was his fa-
vorite member of the franchise’s only league championship. My
favorite Blazer on that legendary team was Herm Gilliam, quite
possibly the last NBA player to wear white canvas Chuck Taylor
hightops while winning a title.
I glanced around some more. Almost all the servers sported
tattoos. There was even a local young woman with a turquoise
streak in her blonde hair. They looked good, kind of tough, kind of
punk rock. Maybe Cannon Beach is a little tougher and punk rock
than I thought.
An hour elapsed, and it was time to hit the road. I walked to the
truck and drove away. Five minutes later, I realized I had forgotten
the batteries.
Matt Love lives in Astoria and is the author/editor of 13
books about Oregon, including A Nice Piece of Astoria: A
Narrative Guide. They are available at coastal bookstores
and through
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1. nautical: Chafing gear,
resembling a mophead,
primarily constructed out
of short lengths of frayed
rope and knotted with two
pieces of marline, hoisted
into the mast stays and
shrouds to buttress the sail
from the rigging and pre-
vent wear and tear; origi-
nally an improvised type of
scotchman or batten
Also spelled “bag-o’-wrin-
kles,” “baggy rinkle,” “boogy
winkle” and so on. No known
use prior to the mid-20th
century since standardization
is not a concern of nautical
slang. Though since it is
associated with the tall ships
of centuries past, it is logical
to assume the term has been
active on deck well before this
The current spelling is
noted by Merriam-Webster to
first appear in 1951, though
Richard Mayne, in his “The
Language of Sailing,” claims
the it was first attested by Bur-
gess in his dictionary in 1961.
There is no OED listing.
Mayne goes on to theo-
rize that the current spelling
probably arrived from “bag-o’-
wrinkles,” which makes sense,
as the expression seems as
improvisational as the jer-
ry-rigged sennit the word has
come to represent as it trav-
eled the seas from hyphenat-
ed idiom to compound noun.
For and About Women: On the Beach,”
The Oregonian, March 2, 1965, P. 21
“‘They’re called baggywrinkles,’
the captain said. Made from old, un-
raveled bits of rope, baggywrinkles
help protect the sails. When sails
come into contact with standard
rope, chafing can produce holes, so
soft baggywrinkles provide a cush-
ioning barrier between the sails and
— Rebecca Sedlak, “Out & About:
Ahoy, from the Lady Washington,” Coast
Weekend, June 14, 2015, P. 3
help but think that Papa would approve.
Now located at the historic 14th Street Pi-
lot Station and rebranded as a Cafe and Public
House, Clemente’s, a longtime Astoria stalwart,
has entered its third and perhaps coziest incar-
nation yet. To the right of the door of the small
dining room sits a 16-foot-long bar cut from
old-growth Doug Fir that looks out onto Pier 14
and the mercurial river. The new menu still has
plenty of martinis, but on a recent sunny after-
noon, chef Gordon Clement had returned from
a day off with some hand-picked blackberries
and there was fresh mint behind the bar. In
other words, all the fixing for an Oregon mojito.
“Summer in a glass,” the bartender announced
as she presented the final product.
It’s said that when Ernest Hemingway
wasn’t searching for German submarines
from a wooden fi shing boat off the coast
of Havana around the onset of the U.S.’s
involvement in WWII, he became quite the
connoisseur of the mojito. With a rum drink
in hand and a boat in the distance, I couldn’t
2 ounces Bacardi rum
1/2 ounce simple syrup
7-10 fresh mint leaves
4 lime wedges
One handful fresh Oregon
blackberries, to taste
Soda water
Reserve a few blackberries
for garnish. In the bottom of
a cocktail shaker, muddle the
limes, mint and remaining
blackberries. Add ice and mud-
dle again. Add the rum and
simple syrup and shake until
cold. Strain into a pint glass
full of ice, then top with soda
water. Garnish with lime and
reserved blackberries.
—Recipe courtesy of Saralee Cokley,
bartender at Clemente’s Cafe and Public
House, Astoria, Oregon
“Presently the [Columbia Riv-
er Maritime Museum] is hoping to
acquire enough funds to open the
building’s second deck. That’s the
upstairs to most of us landlubbers
who don’t use such terms as bulk-
head, baggywrinkle, artificial hori-
zons, and all that.”
—Maryetta, “Hostess House: News
July 9, 2015 | | 23