There are many fine pubs in Portland, but I always have to come back to Kell’s as being my favorite non-Mcminimum’s associated. Kell’s was always a place for many occasions and moods. I had a celebratory dinner in there restaurant when I graduated from college – their broasted lamb shanks was by far the most incredible carnivorous experience I every had. It was also a great place to have a Guiness on a lazy sunday afternoon and BS, specially on a typical cold, rainy Portland day. But it also offered some of the best entertainment and socializing on Friday and Saturday night. They usually had realitively good bar band that helped pack the house. One common group was “the clumsy lovers”, I’m not a fan of music involving fiddles, but they featered this girl on a fiddle that simply was amazing. There signature song they usually closed with was a high-tempo, furious fiddle and banjo version of the “Centerfold” – It was usually played around 1am when the place was totally packed and everyone was lit up on guiness and scotch. My totally favorte performer was this drunken scottish part-time carpenter named Scotty Joe. I’m not sure if he performs anymore, perhaps he is dead or has been deported because I have not seen him advertised as a performer for years. I met Scotty Joe one Friday night during a friend’s birthday, we had the best seats in the house, with the biggest group – he decided to join our group. It was 5:30 and he was already totally wasted. He told me his life story about travelling around and getting somewhat stuck in Portland – he liked portland, it remided him of Scottland. I asked him why, if he was scottish, was such a fixture at an Irish pub – turns out there are not many scottish pubs, and he would not be caught dead in an English pub. About 9pm it was time for him to perform. He was this totally drunkard one-man band. He actually played guitar and sang and had everything else programmed in. He did a variety of english and irish performers – Van Morrison, Elvis Costello, U2 — but his absolute favorite was Pink Floyd. By 1am, it was getting ugly. He was SO drunk he started taunting the crowd, going after the girls and making a complete a*s of himself. by 1:30 the owners of Kells, who are usually having to get rid of routy patrons, had to kick the performer out. It was very entertaining. Last time I saw him was at Berbatti’s Pan, across the street. He was making his rounds – I said, “hey, Scotty Joe!” as I passed by with my martini – he was not looking good, looked at me confused and painfully and managed a weak smile and blurted out “bleheeeyyy!” and stumbled onward.