Clyde Common

Last year, I was invited to participate in ad agency biggie Wieden + Kennedy’s recruiting program, Seeking.  Here is how Seeking worked: you filled out a funny questionnaire, then W+K asked you to send them “your story” in a 20-pages or less pdf file, you wrote something 20 minutes before the deadline while under the influence of rum and emailed it and crossed your fingers.  Well, that’s how it worked for me, anyhow. 

After all that, it’s really no surprise that I’m not currently working at W+K, but my point is that Clyde Common is not only hip enough to be homebase for one of the advertising worlds finest’s weirdest and wildest recruiting effort, but they’ve got the food chops to match the style.

From the vast pool of applicants, W+K picked 40 interesting people from around the globe (a group which for some reason included me), and everyone came together at the Ace Hotel—home to Clyde Common in case you’re wondering where this is going—where we all embarked on a rather memorable weekend that involved: 1) Rubbing elbows with W+K’s Jelly Helm and John Jay and Twitter founder Biz Stone and a member of Yacht and a lot of other artsy somebodies I don’t remember; 2) A healthy dose of abject humiliation stemming from my decision to wear my lucky birthday underpants and a dress that likes to hike up and stick to my lucky birthday underpants instead of just laying flat like it should; and 3) Several dinners at Clyde Common, the last one at which I sat across from a supercute W+K fella who was very impressed when my roast chicken juice ran down my arm all the way to my elbow and my reflexive reaction was to lick it off. I guess it all worked out though, since I’m still seeing him.

After all that, it’s really no surprise that I’m not currently working at W+K, but my point is that Clyde Common is not only hip enough to be home base for one of the advertising worlds finest’s weirdest and wildest recruiting effort, but they’ve got the food chops to match the style. Approachably sophisticated, the downtown gastropub’s beautiful high-ceilinged dining room is largely unadorned but never feels stark, and is one of the city’s primary see-and-be-seen landscapes but never feels pretentious. Long wooden communal tables seat downtown suits and local “celebrities” side by side with hipsters and hotel guests just passing through town, all eating what Clyde calls simply “domestic and foreign cooking,” dishes that utilize our excellent locally sourced foodstuffs and have strong Western European influences—try the rabbit terrine with pickled beets, the tuna salad with piquillo pepper and saffron sauce, or one of the fantastic pasta dishes like the popular ravioli of sweetbreads, caramelized onion and bacon.

For a taste of Oregon meets the Middle East, try the grilled hanger steak with cumin roasted creamer potatoes and chermoula, or the lamb with chickpea pancake, labneh, and lamb jam.  For dessert, classics are tweaked in mouthwatering and sometimes mind-bending ways–think caramel-banana tart tatin with peanut butter swirl ice cream and lemon buttermilk pudding cake with strawberry granita and basil syrup.

Drinks are some of the best in the city, Clyde only employs the crème de la crème of the mixology world, the wine list is practially infallible, and best of all that I’ve just mentioned, even the birthday underpants part, is that ON SUNDAY NIGHTS ALL BOTTLES OF BUBBLY ARE HALF PRICE. I wouldn’t lie about this. Any of it.

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