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.