Momo's

You may recall my promise to review summer beer drinking patios around town. Well, I've been shirking my duties. But not without good reason. You know when you have one of those nights that would be better left undone? The kind of night that starts with you going straight to happy hour without eating dinner? Those nights never turn out well, and I've been avoiding discussing this one, due to the unfortunate memories associated with it. However. I've put it off long enough.

Momo Bar Maximo (otherwise known as Momo's)

The Barfly review for this place is not particularly favorable:

Overpriced drinks, garish crimson interiors, crowds ranging between (weekends) scattered pockets of proto suburbanites and (weeknights) the bartender and her paramour watching The Parkers at top volume - Momo’s doesn’t exactly invite adventuring.

It goes on to mention  E-dates grimacing through appetizers and C-list fratboys misplaying pool, but does recommend the magical patio in the back, a completely unexpected surprise. The patio IS totally sweet. It's like a little oasis in an otherwise typical bar often filled with bad art. I headed over to meet a crew of friends, got mildly lost and managed to drop my bike on a person in a wheelchair (yes, really). I was looking forward to a drink on that patio. But you know how Portland is in the spring. People freak out on a sunny day. The patio was totally full and there wasn't a seat to be had. We did end up taking over the picnic tables in front and then Carin befriended some Canadians on vacation who may or may not have been involved in the adult film industry. They became our new best friends and brought out a round of tequila shots. And really, it all went downhill from there.

  
Drinks: Strong and tasty. Avoid the strange line that happens at the bar (what is it about over-polite people in Portland standing in single file lines at bars? It kills me) and just go up to the bar. Trust me. They'll serve you.

Food: See above. I didn't really eat. But Kyle Arthur did get a chicken strip basket. It looked pretty standard.

Service: Great. The guys are always friendly, overpour the shots, and once the bartender discussed scotch with us and poured a taster just because he was a nice guy. 

Patrons: Mixed bag. There is definitely a southwest crowd (overly polished, popped collars, aging greek system) but I was initially introduced to Momo's by dirtbag skater kids, so I think it's pretty variable. You are guaranteed to be cooler than at least one person there, so that's always kind of an ego boost.

Patio: As I said, the magical oasis had already been claimed by the unemployed and the 8 to 4 crowd. Next time. The sidewalk was a good consolation prize.

Random points for generous, weird Canadians. Girl was like, 'What's the deal yo? We don't want to be tourists. We want to knoooooow where to goooooo."
Jocelyn said, "I'm going to the farmer's market tomorrow. "
Canadian said, "Oh."
And the conversation died.