Archive for the ‘Bar Reviews’ Category

de Fucker goes to Boston!

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Posted 17 Jun 2011 — by Matt de Fucker
Category Bar Reviews, General, Reviews

Cool pub in Boston. I'm not a fucking liar.

This is my first “official” post!  I feel like I have grown a third nut, become more of a man.  Big thanks goes out to the “Dude” for having such an awesome blasphemous beer blog.  So without further ado:

Whoop, there he is!  Matt de Fucker in the house again, in the mofuckin’ Publick House that is.  That’s right, this god damn drunkard made it all the way to Boston (fuck the Bruins) to drink beer at this joint.  Well actually I must confess; my sister graduated from law school so I felt obligated to be drunk around her while she put a weird ass square cap and stupid dress on.  I also found out that law school really makes you a pussy when it comes to drinking beer.  What these smart bastards don’t know is that although a six pack of Bell’s can be $12, it pales in comparison to law school debt.  You could go to the heady beer store every fucking day and buy something fucking awesome for a fraction of the cost of law school.  And just think about how much you’d know about beer, hops, malts, statutory rape, hangovers, etc.  Ok ok, enough bashing these shysters, to the beer we go.

Fuck a paddle

Actually, I must hate on Boston now.  Well we all know that Boston is the land of d-bags and frat boys but now I truly understand why.  Blame it on the beer.  What’s a cool dude supposed to do when he walks into a bar full of shitty beers?  Unfortunately he has no choice but to bend over, take it in the ass, drink a Shock Top Raspberry Wheat, chest bump his buds, go to the bathroom to gel his hair, contemplate killing himself, pop his collar and go to Harvard (or MIT if he’s more technical).  Seriously, I walked around downtown Boston for a few days and probably went into 5 or 6 random bars.  Their beer selection was about as brutal as jacking off with sandpaper.  Yes, it gets the job done.  No, it’s not fun.  You guys might have heard of Sam Adams…you know the commercials with the dudes with beards acting like their beer is actually worth a damn, those guys.  Still not ringing a bell?  It’s the beer that almost tastes like the real thing, you know, kinda like tofu or something shitty like that.  Ok, so here is the lineup at every fucking bar in Boston: Bud light, Shocktop, Sam, Sam Summer, Sam Red Dick Ale, Harpoon UFO, Harpoon IPA and maaaybe Guiness if you’re lucky.  Now don’t get me started on Harpoon.  I did find out that Harpoon is based out of Boston.  I also found out I don’t give a fuck.  I always thought Harpoon was decent until I actually turned my brain on before drinking it.  I realized their IPA is nothing more than a glorified Bud Light, without the glory and without the cool notepad on the bottle  <– Have you guys seen that shit??  I can’t wait to bust my name out on one of those mother fuckers at a party, fuck a keg.  Anyway, I was getting very depressed and at the brink of drowning all of my sorrows in a Michelob Ultra (aluminum bottle) when I came across a real beer store.  Holy fuck!  So I went into this godsend and was quite pleased when I laid my eyes upon new brews.  I picked up some of this Otter Creek Copper Ale.  Mmmm…that shit is tasty!  It’s a solid beer out of Vermont and I wish those yankee fuckers would ship it down to SC.  Ok, finally, to the real review!

Classy shit. Shit photo.

Bling bling.

Fuck me in the goat ass.

So my sister (the ambulance chaser) lives a block away from the Publick House.  Upon walking into the bar I noticed I didn’t see any cheesy taps with raspberry vines on them…good sign so far.  I sat down and the bitch gave me a menu.  Beer!  Hell fuckin’ yes!  On their menu it proudly quotes Beer Advocate saying “#1 Beer Bar in America”.  Whoa.  That’s a pretty bold statement.  I’ll be the god damn judge of that.  Well, it’s fucking good.  Damn good.  I had a few very tasty beers and must say the food kicked some serious ninja ass.  Check the food porn if you don’t believe me.  This is not the Ale House.  My favorite beer I had was the Mongo IPA from Port Brewing.  This shit is overflowing with hoppy goodness.  Hell, it made me hoppy.  I downed that 8.5% so fast my head was kicking my throat in the ass.  Grapefruit notes galore!  Port Brewing should move to Columbia so we actually have good beer here.  If not, maybe they could at least burn down Hunter Gatherer, the shitty ass brewery doesn’t deserve to ferment.  The other noteworthy brew is from Mayflower, the Mayflower IPA.  These MassHoles are fuckin’ creative, lemme tell ya.  This comes in around 7% and keeps it clean, like a guido’s hair while he’s working at a mexican joint.  I mean, that shit be squeaky clean!  Hot damn it’s refreshing to know there is at least one good beer bar in Boston.  Fuck alliteration.

Here are some more pictures for you cubical freaks.  Happy fucking Friday fuckers.   Cheers!

Head of a Mongo. Very good head.

Now for some randos.  Here I’ll hit ya with a couple shitties to avoid this weekend.  Left Hand Milk Stout is amazing and they shouldn’t make anything else.  You can only blow your load once, or something like that.

Michelob IPA? Wtf

I'd rather suck bloody cow nipples...

And lets finish strong.  Solid choice by the fake Frenchies.

Reefer is not all that Asheville has going for it.

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Bar Review – The Velo Fellow or: the conversation that would have transpired had the band not been so bloody loud

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Posted 09 Jun 2011 — by The Dude
Category Bar Reviews, Experimental
This is the Velo Fellow. Beekus that fucker and I (the Dude) went there.

They call me Velo Fellow

We had a dialogue, but the band was so fucking loud we couldn’t hear what was said. It went a little like this:
Beekus: Hometown got a new bar claiming to be an awesome recreation of the olde British publick houses of yore. I say fuck that. This town is way too vanilla to remember what cool things were like. Now keep in mind my ass has never been in England. Shite. The furtherest I’ve been from the seat of the south is hippytown California. But I’d have be to be on some amazing fucking crack to think this is what English pubs typically looked like.
Dude: Why are you talking like that? It’s weird. Oh shit, there’s a band starting up.

Atmosfear.

Beekus: First negative. What’s with all the fucking light. While I don’t know ass from an armpit, I do know that the perfect pub should have only enough lighting so that if you chose to exposure yourself in a corner half the bar wouldn’t know, leaving the other half to believe it was part of the entertainment. Guess that means it’s left the beer and food to make this place worth a wet joint.

Dude: WHAT? I can’t fucking hear you over this goddamn keyboard fusion asshole jazz pseudo-seventies-action-porno music that’s raping my ears. Goddammit, I’m going to fucking murder somebody soon.

Assid Jazz

Beekus: Big fat fucking plus! On tap is the locally made and legally sanctioned best IPA of the south east, the Community Tap Trifecta. For those not accustomed to the brews of upstate South Carolina the Trifecta is a dry-hopped IPA that tastes the way it feels to grow two extra reproductive organs and realizing the rate at which you typically spread disease has just increased three-fold.

Dude: WHAT DID YOU ORDER? I want a Trifecta. Damn, dude, it’s fucking awesome that they have only six taps and they don’t waste a single one on shitty beer. Scotch ale, stout, IPA, weiss, pils. Fuck me. Why can’t other places in town go this hard in the paint? All pouring duplicate taps and 90% shitty light beers.

Beekus: Fuck you. Fuckin’ right.

Dude: MA’AM, CAN I GET A FUCKING TRIFECTA AND SOME FRIED PICKLES?

Pick a peck of pickled peckers. And fry the fuck out of them.

Dude: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ORDERING?

Beekus: It’s a bloody Englishe Pub. Fish and chips.

Dude: WHAT? IT’S AN ENGLISH PLACE. SHEPHERD’S PIE.

Shepherd's Pi

DUDE: THIS SHEPHERD’S PIE IS PRETTY OK. I WOULD TOTALLY EAT IT IF I WAS AS HUNGRY AS I AM NOW.

BEEKUS: This fish has fucking awesome batter. But the chips are….chips. Hang on, I’m going to type everything I said to you in third person so you can post it online later.

fish and crisps.

Dude: GODDDAMMIT! LET’S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE MY EARS BLEED AND GO DRINK SOME PLACE MORE HOMEY AND COMFORTABLE. LIKE A PUB.

Beekus: WHAT?

Dude: FUCK YOU. I’M LEAVING. And fuck this dickhole drummer beating the shit out of his drums even though we’re in an enclosed brick area. What’s the goddamn point of going to a pub to relax and drink beer when you have to shout so loud in a booth with two people that you shit an inch each time you want to say something? At least the beer’s good. That’s a pleasant change for this fucking town.

Beekus: WHAT?

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Bar Review – Brick Store Pub (Atlanta…er…Decatur)

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Posted 18 May 2011 — by The Dude
Category Bar Reviews

While I was in Atlanta last last weekend, I finally got to check out the legendary Brick Store Pub. Which I thought was a store and a pub. Which would be fucking awesome.

Built like a brick shithouse.

It’s still pretty awesome. Also, it’s in a place called Decatur that wasn’t really on my radar. Who the fuck knew Atlanta had anything other than sprawl?

Well, the bar opens up like some sexy curved pub with two fucking floors o’ drinking, full of pale gingers and other (sexy) fair hair stylings of the chosen race (Celts). I think it’s a fucking prerequisite to get a job there. These are my fucking people.

Fucking beautiful.

Well, The Summer of Stouts (TM) just keeps getting harder, what with nobody having fucking stouts on tap this time of year. What the hell people? I mean, I had been up all night drinking, so all I was looking for was a strong, black hangover cure. Nothing!

The bar, she is so sexy, but where the fuck are the dark ones? BEERS, you racist asshole.

So I asked for a taste of this here Bombardier ESB. Apparently a taste equals a fucking imperial pint. Oops, guess I’ll have to drink it… Well, shit yeah, that’s a start.

Bombardier fucking destroyed my hangover.

Beekus that Fucker ordered some nancy saison drink. Apparently it was most excellent.

Some Lost Abbey bullshit Saison my buddy ordered. Pussy.

OK, onto the thing that was the most bonerific about the joint – the fucking food. When I saw that I could get a fucking burger (what I should have ordered the previous night at the Porter) with BENTON’S FUCKING BACON, I was fucking sold. Fucking medium rare, as I like a little char on my blood, smothered in pimento cheese, with fucking Benton’s Bacon.

What the fuck is that crispy stuff?

Then the bacon came out fucking crispy. Bacon should be as limp as this crunchy shit made my dick. Jesus fucking christ. I was scared shitless. Until I took a bite. And a few more.

Pink, it was love at first sight.

As the blood ran through the bun and into my beard, I was happy. As my friend The Gurgling Cod says, cow is done when it comes out of the mommy cow’s vagina. This shit was hell of tasty, and I washed it down with this fucking beer I had heard about the night before while I was swilling PBR and Session Lager at a show.

This is what pussy tastes like in heaven.

Beekus that Fucker is to blame for my ordering the beer. And that fucking caption. But it’s fucking true. This beer is like holy magical liquid butter toffee that coats your throat as you dine on bovine blood. It was magnificent, and I was glad to make the trip to Brick Store, even if there wasn’t a stout or porter for me to dig into.

And yes, there’s the thing about the Belgian bar attached upstairs that people go ape shit over. Well, it was fucking closed when we got there, but we stayed around so long that they opened it. No time for a beer, but we looked around and decided to get the fuck out before we got hammered and had to stay the night…

Belgian Bar? Fuck yes...I suppose.

The Brick Store Pub is a pretty radass place, and I can’t wait to get back down there again. Once I get a new wallet and liver.

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Bar Review – The Porter

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Posted 12 May 2011 — by The Dude
Category Bar Reviews

After eight months or so of lusting after The Porter in Atlanta and all its glory as a sexy fucking beer bar with hell of tasty food, I got to make another trip down.

Mothafuckin' Porter.

Perusing the draft list, I realized I’d been spoiled by working in a killer bottle/growler shop for the last 4 months (as well as living in walking distance from Barley’s the last 5 years). There was only one draught I really wanted to try (Port Wipeout), and those motherfuckers were out. Also, I had heard owner Molly Gunn was a big porter fan, so I was shocked when I saw no porters or stouts on the list. I “settled” with a fucking Hitachino Nest Real Ginger Ale and this basket of orgasmic hush puppies.

hushfuckinpuppies

Holy shitfuck, that  was tasty fried bread dipped in apple sauce. Yes. That’s exactly what it was. And the ginger beer was weird as fuck, but tasty nonetheless. It complimented the shit out of the goat cheese fritters that were topped with fucking honey! Holy shit, I’m packing a semi just thinking about these.

Honey, motherfuckers!

So yeah, tasty bitches. Then I was fucking torn on what to order. The bacon cheeseburger is one of the best I’ve ever eaten, but I wanted to trudge down a new fucking path. I had heard good things about the fish and chips, so I dug in. I wished I had gotten the fucking burger after the food came out and I saw how goddamn sexy my buddy’s was.

BurgerTime!

My fucking fish was unphotogenic. So fuck you. This Dieu de Cil was fucking nice, though.

Dieu de Ciel the fucking deal.

So yeah, the fish was a bit bleah and needed something to spice it up. I went for a fucking casked Allagash Curieux. Holy shitballs, it’s like drinking whiskey! OK, shitty, drinkable, cool, watered down whiskey. It’s quite different on tap. I’d go in for sloppy seconds, though.

Curieux George

So shit yeah, go eat and drink at this place. Do yourself a favor – skip the fish and eat two burgers. And cross your fingers for a fucking Porter porter. Or stout.

Oh. One more thing. What the sweet fuck is this? Holy shit!

Delirium Gnomebukkake!

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Bar Review – Hoops and Hops

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Posted 28 Apr 2011 — by The Dude
Category Bar Reviews

It’s all in a fucking name, right? Well at least when you reference something beer related, it fucking should be (i.e. Liberty Tap Room, Carolina Ale House, etc.). I’m starting to think that any bar that references beer in the fucking name isn’t worth my goddamn time. It’s false fucking advertisement and I’m fucking sick of that fucking bullshit. Why name a place something that has nothing to do with what the fuck is going on inside? Hoops and Hops – where are the motherfuckin’ hops? At least they were showing basketball, I suppose.

Should say "Hoops and Hos"

So, I go in expecting to order the hoppiest fucking draft they have…until I see that it’s Magic Hat #9 (or maybe that fucking raspberry Shock Top bullshit). They’ve got six or eight taps. Honestly, I can’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t fucking matter, because none of them were worth a shit and a half. I do think they actually had Michelob Ultra on tap, so at least they’ve got that going for them. Wait, Mich Ultra on tap? That’s fucking genius. That way you can have a dick and still drink that shit and nobody will ever fucking know how big a pussy you are and how much you fucking hate yourself, your wife and your fucking accidental kids.

At least they fucking had Thomas Creek.

They did boast a stellar selection of bottles…that I can find in any grocery store in this goddamn town. And I only had to pay about $4 a piece for that shit. I guess you’re paying for fucking atmosphere here. Yeah, that’s it. To their credit, they did have most of the lineup from Thomas Creek – EXCEPT FOR THE FUCKING HOPPY ONE, THE GODDAMNED UP THE CREEK. Something like 70 bottles they boast, and yet most aren’t worth a flying fuck. I spared asking for the hoppiest thing on the list, as I doubt they would know what the fuck was up. (Also, it was Dogfish 90-Minute, not exactly a beer I want to pay for.)

What the fuck do I expect from a sports bar? Fucking crusty-ass overtanned sluts and dudes who work in real estate or marketing. I did find the latter tucked away in the corner, all business ties and such, having a working man’s cold one after whatever soul-sucking office bullshit they gave up for the day.

Ah, yes, bar food. Burgers and fries and shit.

Burgertime

The shoestring fries actually had a nice seasoning. As did the burger. But it shouldn’t have been a fucking $8 burger with fucking $2 fries you have to add on. Fucking $10 for a $5 meal is bullshit, especially with overpriced, boring bottles. Once again, I suppose you’re paying for atmosphere. Kind of like at a Planet Hollywood or Denny’s.

Fucking bullshit. I hate myself.

I soothed my soul with wittles and a 1554 from the Corky Thacher of breweries. Obviously I had given up on hops at this point, knowing that the fucking PALE ALE I had at the house had ruined my palate for anything less hoppy.

You know what, fuck it. This is a fucking thankless job, what with going to these fucking shitholes so you don’t make the same mistake. I’m sick and fucking tired of going to every goddamned bar in walking distance from my place to be let down time and time again. All due to the promise of hops, taps and ales. These fucking places are everywhere, and they’re a fucking disgrace. And their fucking demographics are fucking epidemics.

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