I didn’t expect a schoolhouse in Oregon to feel rebellious. I pushed open heavy doors and suddenly the echoes of classrooms turned into a playground for adults.
Craft drinks hiding in former boiler rooms, chandeliers dangling over chalkboards, and menus that dared me to taste something daring.
Every corner whispered a secret, every bite felt like a wink. I found myself laughing at murals that looked like history class gone rogue while my fork tracked flavors I didn’t know could exist in a diner…