In Search of Burgers and Beer

I love flying westbound over the United States. Whenever I can, I book a window seat and an early flight so that I can entertain myself by watching green hills turn into golden plains turn into white-capped mountains turn into dusty red, brown and orange-colored deserts.

This flight was extremely early. The Cisco Brewery Brewpub in Terminal B at Logan Airport wasn’t even close to opening—not that I was looking for a beer at 5:15am. The only thing I would be drinking was a very large Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee. I was headed out to Los Angeles to visit with my friends Mike and Katie, but as is almost always the case, I was also on the lookout for good beer.

Of course I shared.

The flight was lovely with my window seat and blue skies clear across the country.  The six-hour flight had put a hunger in me that no $7 snack box would satiate, the only cure coming in the form of made-to-order, all-beef patties from, what should be everyone’s first stop in LA: In-N-Out Burger. Luckily the closest is located just a few minutes from the airport where Mike and I met up with Katie.  The plan for the day, that was hatched from this bastion of burgerdom, was to spend a little time at Venice Beach, take a quick hike up Runyon Canyon to work up a thirst, culminating with happy hour at my favorite watering hole in LA, Barney’s Beanery in West Hollywood.

There are a number of satellite Barney’s in Los Angeles that play on the same theme as the original: magazine clipping collages on the tables, breweriana on the walls, a tap selection of a several dozen domestic and imported beers and a mile long list of bottles. The satellite locations are fine if you can’t get to the original, but with a storied 90-year history that includes a gallery of Old Hollywood legends and notoriety for having been the last place Janis Joplin sipped a drink, Barney’s position near the end of old Route 66 just has a different vibe.

Katie and I ordered up a first round that, for me, had to include a West Coast IPA. Bear Republic Racer 5 was up first: juicy, mouth-watering, citrusy hops balanced by a 7% ABV maltiness really hit the spot after that hike up Runyon. Next up was Stone Brewing Company’s Arrogant Bastard. I remember my first time trying this beer was on a trip several years ago to LA and Barney’s Beanery. I’m not sure I was worthy then for the, frankly, arrogant amount of hoppage…but I might be now. I finished the night at Barney’s with another Racer 5 and despite my jetlag and my better judgment, Mike, Katie and Katie’s roommate Matt and I ended up hanging out well passed midnight at her apartment where I sipped on some Firestone Walker Pale 31, a dry-hopped beauty of a California Pale Ale. Having been up for something like 26 hours I was, shockingly, remarkably chipper but fading fast. The next day we had plans to meet up with former London pub-crawl champion Alex, who had moved to LA shortly after our meet-up in England, so we gulped our last sips and packed it in just before 2am.

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With temperatures in the low 70s and a breeze all week, I couldn’t have picked a better time to visit. Mike and I stumbled out of the house just before noon with plans to meet Alex at the newly established Golden Road Brewing just off Interstate 5 (I know, The 5). Beer industrialists Tony Yanow and Meg Gill opened Golden Road Brewing in 2011 and it seems that it’s already garnered quite a loyal following. The place was packed at lunch, but Alex, Mike and I found some room at the bar. I ordered up a round that started with one of two flagship beers: Point the Way IPA. Citrusy, slightly earthy with hints of grapefruit pith and tangerine, the hops are not overly aggressive, but they certainly make their presence felt. 

As Mike and Alex got in line to order lunch, I considered trying their other flagship, Golden Road Hefeweizen. But since I had already seen this beer a few other places I opted to try something of a rarity on their menu, a Berliner Weisse. I can count on one hand how many different Berliner Weisse style beers I’ve had over the years.  It simply isn’t a style produced with any regularity these days. With only a few breweries still producing this style in Germany it’s the type of beer that when I see I have to try it. Golden Road’s Berliner Weisse is very low in alcohol (2.8%) with an assertive tartness in the aroma and a balanced tart/bready flavor.  I chose to try it straight up with a sidecar of woodruff syrup that I added after the first few sips. The woodruff takes the edge off the tartness while contributing a mild herbal character. As I’ve mentioned before, this style was one of the first beers I ever tried and it brought me back to that sunny summer in Deutschland when I was 17.

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Mike was a fantastic tour guide.  When I told him I was looking to sample the best new beers that LA had to offer, he mentioned Eagle Rock Brewery. I had to admit that this brewery hadn’t been on my radar, but when we arrived at their tasting room, I could tell that it was the type of place that I’d enjoy. Several tables and benches throughout with a bar serving beer brewed only 100 feet from the taps. I tried a sampler of four beers including a roasty English Dark Mild and a perfumy Witbier that was light on both orange peel and spice. That evening we caught the midnight screening of what has become know as “the worst movie ever made,” Tommy Wiseau’s The Room.  If you’ve never experience this gem I highly recommend seeing it. The viewing didn’t make for an early night, but this was a vacation after all and I was going to make the best of every minute.

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Another late night found us in late afternoon at Tony’s Dart Away in North Hollywood, another beer venture by Tony Yanow. This California beer centric home of draught-only, full-pour pints provides food and drinks at the bar and board games and beer books along the walls. I was told that it can get pretty busy during the evening, but on this early Saturday afternoon we found ourselves amongst a smallish crowd at the bar. We ordered a round of root beer-braised pulled-pork sandwiches as well as a couple pints of Golden Road’s Hefeweizen.

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The rest of my time spent in LA was filled with an equal amount of good times and good beer.  Katie, Mike and I spent Sunday afternoon in the backyard of Mike’s Van Nuys apartment grilling up burgers In-N-Out style and chatting. The burgers were accompanies by a mix 12-pack of New Belgium beers: Dig Pale Ale, 1554 Black Ale and of course Fat Tire, each one of these Colorado beers a new taste treat for this New Englander. Later in the evening we caught a show at Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre and enjoyed a couple Ranger IPAs from that New Belgium 12-pack as we watched.

After the show, while cruising around Hollywood, I was somewhat disappointed that I hadn’t been able to find any Russian River beer, in particular Pliny the Elder. I had tried it a number of years ago at Monk’s Café in Philadelphia on a vacation with Amanda, but I was eager to drink it in its native land.  We had just missed the tapping at Tony’s the day before and I was unsuccessful in my search for any bottles. I figured it was a lost cause but I had one more place to try before giving up the hunt so Mike and I parked the car just off Hollywood Boulevard and strolled the Walk-of-Fame until we came to The Blue Palms Brewhouse.

It was nearing last call and I thought for sure that I’d end up drinking a Stone something-or-other, especially this late on a Sunday night. As we walked in, I glanced up at the large screen that was projecting the current tap list, and there it was!  I couldn’t believe it! This nearly empty pub on a late Sunday night was serving Pliny the Elder. I’m sure you California-types don’t get as excited, but I was rather stoked. “Pour me your freshest pint of Pliny my good man,” I thought, “right away sir,” I imagined. With the frothing glass down on the bar and my bill settled, I sat down with Mike at a high-top table in the corner. Golden with just the slightest of haze, Pliny the Elder is the epitome of a hop-forward Double IPA.  Where some versions tend to leave a bit of sweetness from the malt to balance, Pliny the Elder packs in the hops for a citrusy, piney, resinous bitterness that dries in the finish and lingers for the rest of the evening.

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This account is nowhere near exhaustive, there were many beers snuck in between, almost too numerous to mention. I’m always impressed that each time I visit Los Angeles I find something new and interesting and I’m not just talking about the beer. The culture of Los Angeles is variety, as evident in its people and neighborhoods as in its beer. My very sincere thanks to Mr. Michael Tocci and Ms. Katie Curley for their hospitality and their skill in driving me around some of the most hazardous highways in the country, your metering skills are sharply honed, I’m sure it won’t be too long before I return.

The Slow Boat to Nantucket

Nantucket Sound in late April can be a little rough. The slow boat to Nantucket Island was skimming across a sea of white caps, bumping along in the early afternoon surf, spraying the bow in a light mist and producing several loud claps when a wave caught it at just the right moment. We had parked the car in Hyannis and walked aboard several hours earlier and were nearing our destination. We had been invited by our friend Janet to visit her for the weekend and to participate in the Annual Daffodil Parade, an event celebrating the arrival of Nantucket’s beautiful yellow flower each spring.

As I mentioned, the late afternoon crossing was appropriately nautical and the slow boat was, well, slow. Luckily the Steamship Authority had the good graces to allow the sale of beer aboard and I joyfully sipped a Pale Ale from John Harvard’s Brewery. Medium-bodied with just the right balance of sweet malt, earthiness and citrusy hops. John Harvard’s has a number of brewpub locations in the northeast including Harvard Square in Cambridge, but I was happy to find it on board, albeit in a biodegradable, compostable cup.

Janet greeted Amanda and me at the pier and whisked us across the island to drop our luggage at her apartment. The next morning Janet brought us to the Nantucket Wildflower Farm to secure our transportation for the day. The outside of the 1953 Chevrolet pickup truck was near immaculate, the inside and what could be found under the hood was not so much. After “punching” it a few time, Janet managed to get the truck sputtering to life as Amanda in her poodle skirt and me in my best Buddy Holly costume watched on.

Thankfully, the truck made it downtown where we filled the bed with the parade’s namesake flower and loaded half a dozen children into the back, attired in varying shades of 1950s dress.  I stepped inside the downtown beer and wine store to pick up a few bottles of beer for the picnic at the finish of the parade. Cisco Brewing Company is Nantucket’s only brewery and it only seemed appropriate to grab a few 22 ounce bottles of their Whale’s Tale Pale Ale for the festivities.  I tucked them into our cooler and surveyed the growing number of vintage cars spread across the cobbled main street.  When I returned to the truck it looked a little worse for wear under the weight of daffodils, peanut butter sandwiches and school children. There was some fear that the truck’s chassis couldn’t stand the pressure—that would prove to be the least of our worries, however.

Some announcement or other signaled that we’d be moving out soon and that all cars should prepare for the start of the parade. As lovely as our transport appeared, it did not wish to start, it was perfectly content at being ogled by the crowd and apparently it didn’t hear about the peanut butter sandwiches and beer we had planned at the finish. As each of the other cars revved and readied, our 1953 Chevy was on life-support, hooked up to a generator. The children stared as the other cars shuttled off, leaving a lonely green truck packed with daffodils.

It was eventually determined that the kill-switch hadn’t been engaged or that the flange hadn’t been aligned with the down-thruster or some such technical terminology, but the truck started and we were hurtling down the road. I was, in fact, holding on to the doorframe at the open window as it had been determined that I would be riding the running board.  This was a good plan if we had been slowly making our way with the other cars to the end of the island, but since we were trying to catch up to the pack from our slow start I held on for my life at what was most certainly a speed exceeding all reason.

We did manage to catch up with the other cars without me falling off into a sand dune and the rest of the afternoon was spent picnicking and talking with the other drivers. I popped open the Cisco Whale’s Tale, which went perfectly with the peanut butter sandwiches. Later that evening I order another at a local restaurant on draught, it poured a slightly hazy orange with a moderate off white head of foam, hints of caramel malt throughout with a slightly musty, herbal hoppiness through the finish. It had been a long day, but a lot of fun.

The light drizzle and overcast skies had disappeared by the next morning, replaced by a gentle sea breeze and brilliant sunshine. The temperature was just perfect and we made the drive out to the Cisco Brewery for a few beers.  When we visited, the bar at Cisco opened onto a patio with a number of tables and chairs positioned to accommodate a few dozen patrons. During this visit a brown dog strolled around walking in and out of the bar area to check on his guests. With the temperatures hovering in the lower 60s, I figured it would be a fine time to drink Cisco’s Moor Porter. From nitro into a biodegradable cup, the beer poured a deep, creamy brown with a soft mocha head.  Plenty of cocoa and coffee in the aroma with hints of caramel, grain and toffee, with a heavily roasted malt bitterness through the finish.

It might have been one of my favorite days of drinking beer. The temperature and atmosphere was simply perfect. We passed the time playing shut-the-box and chatting as the dog made his rounds and the bar guests sipped. While I knew the weekend was coming to a close, I took no notice of it, allowing the moment to take away the care that in the morning we had to leave. We bid farewell to the barkeep and the dog and the next day to Nantucket.  The crossing back to Hyannis was a bit kinder this time and it was smooth sailing all the way back to the harbor. It had been a remarkable weekend and one that I will always remember fondly. Good beer, good fun, good times.