Beer
Off the Beaten Path
One evening over pints, the
conversation turned to unusual bars we'd been to. What a
great idea for a Beer Traveller article, I thought. So
when I got home, I rummaged through my travel journals and
beer notes. The result: my personal six-pack of
out-of-the-ordinary beer venues:
- Branicky Sklipek Pivnice,
Prague. Without a doubt, this was the smokiest place
I'd ever visited; one guidebook described it as a good
place to cure bacon. It also had the most hard-core
clientele I'd seen in years. Most were middle-aged men
settled in for an all-night session, which, at Prague
prices, would cost them just a few dollars.
Don't believe the guidebooks when they claim women don't
set foot inside this bar. My wife not only accompanied me
on this adventure, but successfully asked for the key to
the ladies' room. The bartender, who'd pegged her as an
American, did a noticeable double-take when she asked
him...in Polish.
- Crown Liquor
Saloon, Belfast. "Getting bombed" has a different
meaning here; for decades, it's been a target of
terrorists. But on the day I stopped by, The Troubles
seemed far away. Walking through the Crown's front doors, I
was stunned by its colorful and richly detailed
Victorian-era decor, from the tiled floors to the gaslamps
hanging above.
Stained glass windows and ornamental woodwork gave the
Crown a churchlike ambience. The snugs, where I drank my
Guinness, resembled confessionals. What's a snug, you ask?
A vestige of times when pubgoing was frowned upon, a snug
is a booth enclosed by glass paneling and a door. Inside,
it's possible to have a leisurely pint, unseen and unheard.
- Het Elfte Gebod, Antwerp. The bar's name is
Flemish for "The Eleventh Commandment." It's literally in
the shadow of Antwerp's cathedral, and the only bar I've
seen decorated entirely with religious kitsch. I drank
surrounded by hundreds of wooden statues--saints, nuns, and
angels--while classical music, the kind played in
cathedrals, drifted down from the speakers.
In Belgium, beer and religion are a cultural Odd Couple.
The beer menu featured robust, high-alcohol ales with names
like Judas, Lucifer, Forbidden Fruit,
and The Last Judgment. Eventually, after spiritual
refreshment in the form of abbey ale, I walked up to the
bar and asked, "So what is the Eleventh
Commandment?" The bartender told me, "Enjoy life." Amen to
that.
- Frog and Rosbif,
Paris. Yes, it is possible to have your fill
of French food and wine. When that time came, I headed for
the bustling rue Saint-Denis, and joined the expat Brits
reading papers from home, watching soccer on television,
and drinking pints of ale at the Frog and Rosbif.
For me, the main attraction wasn't fellow Anglophones or
British pub grub; it was the beer. The Frog and Rosbif
brewed its own, and brewpubs were still a novelty in
France. How good was the beer? Inseine Ale, a
cask-conditioned English bitter, and a dry stout called
Dark de Triomphe were both good--but a little rough
around the edges. I'm sure it has improved; there are now
three Frog pubs in Paris.
- Brouwerij 't IJ Proeflokaal, Amsterdam. Have you
ever tasted beer inside a windmill? Actually, the windmill
is merely ornamental; it was part of a public bathhouse
before the brewery took it over and turned it into a
proeflokaal, or tasting room.
The Spartan decor consisted mainly of shelves lined with
beer bottles from around the world. There was a basic snack
menu, but most people had come to drink. Hours were
limited, approximately 3 to 8 pm, so those not here when
the doors opened had to stand all evening.
The brewery turns out five year-round beers: Plzen;
Natte and Zatte, a Belgian-style
dubbel and trippel; Struis, brewed in
the barleywine style; and strong and heavy Columbus.
I was told that the names are puns on the Dutch word for
"egg." Makes sense; 't IJ's logo is an ostrich laying an
egg.
- Tugboat Brewing
Company, Portland, Oregon. I've been to dozens of
places with fancier decor and better beer, but this tiny
brewpub takes the prize for overall funkiness. The owners
furnished it with bookshelves full of everything from
supermarket encyclopedias to hardcover novels; a big neon
clock, the kind found in greasy-spoon diners; and
cactus-filled picture windows that look out on the "24 Hour
Church of Elvis" across the street.
The brewmaster loves trying unusual styles; his handiwork
includes "Czech bitter" and "Chernobyl stout." Pints are
cheap, even by Portland standards, so you can afford to
take a chance on something new. During the day, Tugboat is
a good place to read a book (yours or theirs), chat with a
friend, or listen to recorded jazz and blues.