Alice Finer

Let's face it, Bend is no Aspen thankfully and Mt. Bachelor is no Snowmass. Sure, we've got top-tier dining and upscale boutiques in town. But our ski hill is for playing hard and, of course, throwing back a few between runs, but certainly not for posing. The Clearing Rock Bar at Bachelor's West Village Lodge is the perfect metaphor for just how distinctly un-Colorado we are here in Central Oregon. With its friendly staff of locals, utilitarian décor, and predominately beer-drinking crowd (okay, you'll see a few drinks with whipped cream on top here and there), the place smacks more of a watering hole downtown than a place to sip a hot toddy by the fire though such a scenario is attainable if that's your flavor.

M&J is the kind of bar that every town needs. It's got cheap
drinks, friendly bartenders, the best tequila selection this side of
the Rio Grande, two pool tables, a jukebox with everything from Willie
Nelson to Phish to the Beastie Boys, and, of course, the adjacent Sip N
Suds, so you can enjoy a pint while you wait for your laundry to dry.

M&J is the kind of bar that every town needs. It’s got cheap
drinks, friendly bartenders, the best tequila selection this side of
the Rio Grande, two pool tables, a jukebox with everything from Willie
Nelson to Phish to the Beastie Boys, and, of course, the adjacent Sip N
Suds, so you can enjoy a pint while you wait for your laundry to dry.

Flavor piled high at Zydeco.Like so many of the best things in life, Zydeco isn't exactly as it
seems. You wouldn't guess that behind a modest façade tucked away among
car dealerships on Business 97 you'd find a country-Zen dining room
awash in sage tones and minimalist art or the subtly swanky lacquered
terra cotta bar dotted with colorful specialty cocktails sitting
beneath hanging droplet lights. And the food, too, is unexpected:
high-flown in execution yet completely down to earth in concept and
attitude. And rather than offering Cajun cuisine, as the name suggests
(it's actually a tribute to a family dog), the menu is American with a
pan-southern emphasis. All around, Zydeco is a series of happy
paradoxes, combining northwestern refinement with robust southern
flavors, urban sophistication with southern hospitality, and upscale
fare served up in impressively southern portions.

Flavor piled high at Zydeco.Like so many of the best things in life, Zydeco isn’t exactly as it
seems. You wouldn’t guess that behind a modest façade tucked away among
car dealerships on Business 97 you’d find a country-Zen dining room
awash in sage tones and minimalist art or the subtly swanky lacquered
terra cotta bar dotted with colorful specialty cocktails sitting
beneath hanging droplet lights. And the food, too, is unexpected:
high-flown in execution yet completely down to earth in concept and
attitude. And rather than offering Cajun cuisine, as the name suggests
(it’s actually a tribute to a family dog), the menu is American with a
pan-southern emphasis. All around, Zydeco is a series of happy
paradoxes, combining northwestern refinement with robust southern
flavors, urban sophistication with southern hospitality, and upscale
fare served up in impressively southern portions.

To anyone who has been there, Bistro Corlise happy hour may sound like an oxymoron or some sort of ruse. It's hard to imagine enjoying such a pedestrian tradition as happy hour at a place that is the epitome of fine dining.

Fish and a smile, what else can you ask for?At Bend Fish Company, no energy is squandered on the superficial. It’s
all about the food. Besides the stylized fish in the logo, the only
other decorative touches in the place are a plastic blue marlin mounted
on the wall and a small collection of toy dinosaurs displayed in the
window of the sushi counter. Instead of fine china and candles, you get
red-checkered paper and fluorescent lights. If it’s warm enough, you
can opt out of the cafeteria-like interior and take a table on the
patio, but even then you’ll have to settle for a view of the
Blockbuster across the street. However, if you love seafood, you won’t
mind the lack of ambience. You may hardly even notice. Your eyes will
be immediately drawn to the extensive and rather eclectic menu of
seafood favorites from around the world, and for those who prefer their
own preparations, the beautiful filets of fresh fish, shrimp, scallops,
and other delicacies are for sale behind the glass in the front.

Fish and a smile, what else can you ask for?At Bend Fish Company, no energy is squandered on the superficial. It's
all about the food. Besides the stylized fish in the logo, the only
other decorative touches in the place are a plastic blue marlin mounted
on the wall and a small collection of toy dinosaurs displayed in the
window of the sushi counter. Instead of fine china and candles, you get
red-checkered paper and fluorescent lights. If it's warm enough, you
can opt out of the cafeteria-like interior and take a table on the
patio, but even then you'll have to settle for a view of the
Blockbuster across the street. However, if you love seafood, you won't
mind the lack of ambience. You may hardly even notice. Your eyes will
be immediately drawn to the extensive and rather eclectic menu of
seafood favorites from around the world, and for those who prefer their
own preparations, the beautiful filets of fresh fish, shrimp, scallops,
and other delicacies are for sale behind the glass in the front.

Not your mother’s health food co-op.Devore’s Good Food, a neighborhood gem too often obscured by the mammoth shadow cast by Newport Market across the street, offers food you can truly feel good about. Produce is always organic and locally grown when in season. The shop is locally owned. And for those of us who are too busy/lazy/inept to feed ourselves, Devore’s has a mountain of delicious prepared foods, including fully constructed but uncooked casseroles, pizzas, and pies (both sweet and savory) you can pop in the oven and pass off as home-cooking, as well as soups, wraps, quiches, salads, and other ready-to-eat meals in individual and family-sized portions.
I’ll admit that when I first darkened Devore’s doorstep, I was skeptical. If you were raised in a hippie commune in the ’70s and spent your formative years crawling around among barrels of bulk grain in the food co-op that your mother helped found, you’d immediately see-and smell-red flags everywhere. Before you even enter, the old picnic tables on the worn wooden porch under a thatched awning and, particularly, the bulletin board by the front door displaying flyers for folk festivals, homeopathic healers, and lectures like “Be Kind to Your Colon” set off alarms. (No mom, this wheat gluten doesn’t taste like chicken!) That distinct whiff of damp cardboard, soil, carrot greens, and freshly cut Camembert overcomes you as you walk the produce aisles and past the cheese counter. (Um, this “candy” looks suspiciously like dried apricots.) But as you make your way to the coolers in the back room brimming with attractive options, that visceral urge to flee subsides, and you realize that this isn’t your mother’s health food.

Not your mother's health food co-op.Devore's Good Food, a neighborhood gem too often obscured by the mammoth shadow cast by Newport Market across the street, offers food you can truly feel good about. Produce is always organic and locally grown when in season. The shop is locally owned. And for those of us who are too busy/lazy/inept to feed ourselves, Devore's has a mountain of delicious prepared foods, including fully constructed but uncooked casseroles, pizzas, and pies (both sweet and savory) you can pop in the oven and pass off as home-cooking, as well as soups, wraps, quiches, salads, and other ready-to-eat meals in individual and family-sized portions.
I'll admit that when I first darkened Devore's doorstep, I was skeptical. If you were raised in a hippie commune in the '70s and spent your formative years crawling around among barrels of bulk grain in the food co-op that your mother helped found, you'd immediately see-and smell-red flags everywhere. Before you even enter, the old picnic tables on the worn wooden porch under a thatched awning and, particularly, the bulletin board by the front door displaying flyers for folk festivals, homeopathic healers, and lectures like "Be Kind to Your Colon" set off alarms. (No mom, this wheat gluten doesn't taste like chicken!) That distinct whiff of damp cardboard, soil, carrot greens, and freshly cut Camembert overcomes you as you walk the produce aisles and past the cheese counter. (Um, this "candy" looks suspiciously like dried apricots.) But as you make your way to the coolers in the back room brimming with attractive options, that visceral urge to flee subsides, and you realize that this isn't your mother's health food.