Everything here speaks to my soul. Not just the drinking snacks, which are pretty perfect, but the gritty-meets-glamorous aesthetic and not one, but two turntables. In the mix is arguably the city’s best cheeseburger (at least according to Portland Monthly’s obsessive Burger Cabal) and without question, its wildest nachos, plus James Beard’s famed onion and butter sandwich, perfectly expressed. The “hot and sour spiced Indian fries” elicit F-bombs of joy around the table. That doesn’t count the careful cocktails. Expatriate, a destination since 2013, is more than a “bar.” The house philosophy is “not just a dish, but a perfect version of that thing, a serious attempt.” Truth.