I couldn’t have told you ten days ago that within a single weekend I’d gulp down two different kinds of specially brewed oak-bourbon beer. As I drink a Yuengling as I write this, it’s clear to me and maybe now to you that that particular brand of exoticism is not really my cup of tea, or bottle of beer, so I mention that first detail solely for its falling outside my norm. But I like where those thoughts are headed, opening the world up a litle bit, since it’s now Spring, damn it! And it was nearly so last weekend, and if there were a time to come out of hibernation and travel all the way across this fair city to my friends’ place in Williamsburg and back again the next morning to drink away my hangover– that was it.

So: As written, I went last Sunday to a beer festival – the Get Real NY Craft Beer & Food Festival. It was two days of food and beer, not necessarily in that order, at a space on West 18th St. I got there just before noon for Sunday’s first three-hour session. My thoughts on the crowd were spot-on, plenty of plaid, plenty of hats that weren’t baseball caps. Some jeans tucking, but not too much. Hasty generalizations aside, I’m sure there are lots of reasons why craft beer brings out a more artsy population, but one is certainly a dominant, romantic, self-affirming, do-it-yourself attitude that urges the creatively inclined to make stuff instead of merely and only buying other stuff, no matter how delicious that other stuff is.

I met up with my friends and we went in, were welcomed and were given a small beer glass:

That's a quarter, for scale.

We were also given a bottle of water. The indulgent rube I am thought they were compassionately urging us to stay hydrated, what with all the beer we could drink. But no: It was to cleanse our palettes between tastings, another effort to jerk the people’s drink into the throes of winy sophistication. That much I almost couldn’t bear, right from the start, especially since the guests were welcome to expunge the excess of each tasting into one of many buckets stationed around the joint. I saw a volunteer carrying one to be emptied and I heard a small sob: from the bucket or me, I still can’t tell.

Seriously, though, this place was a wonderland. Like Pawtucket Pat’s Beer Room, with all the food we could eat at tables around the perimeter. The quarter kegs (I’d say) were cordoned off in the center of the room. There were dozens of them, arranged in a huge rectangle three rows high, maybe twenty kegs long, maybe six kegs wide. Workers were stationed throughout, each to access about six kegs each, so we saw some familiar faces along the way. I think each was encouraged to wish us “Cheers” on the bottoms-up. Seems like a natural thing to say anyway, but even if someone had earlier insisted, it was a nice touch.

The food was excellent, and was from all over the city, including Brooklyn and Queens. During my several orbits I stopped at the Sunswick station more than twice for Brisket and Pulled Pork sliders. Small ones, for tasting, but good, and from a place that would have been my local for those two years if the beers weren’t a little too pricey for that. Cattycorner from them, at a station my friends enjoyed but in which I didn’t partake, was the South Houston Restaurant. Everything they had, I believe, had bacon in it: The 3-bean Chili was praised. Across the room from them was Brother Jimmy’s, the erstwhile BBQ mini-chain, and its Pulled Pork and Pulled Chicken Sliders were typically enjoyable. It was too early for me, but my friends loved the “Naked Cowboy Oysters,” apparently from Long Island’s North Shore, apparently shucked by Eddie “Oyster” Casiano (himself). So says the program I got – and the program I ignored for way too long: Only when preparing this entry did I actually read the damn thing, and it would have served me well, and will for next time I’m sure.

That’s because of the many beers I tried – at least eight full half-glasses – I didn’t love most of them. With the selection available and the experimentation the day welcomed, I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was in the spirit of the weekend and the season to try new things, but it ran the risk I always hate running, especially when it costs money: Trying a beer that could very well be terrible. On principle, I wouldn’t spit the beer out (if they wanted us merely to taste it, what about shot glasses?). But if I’m at a bar, and I see Guinness, and I see some random beer, and the bar’s too loud to ask anyone about it, or they don’t give out samples, I’m drinking the damn Guinness and not paying eight bucks to have a beer I don’t enjoy, however the fuck crafty it is.

Largely, though, the day was a huge success. One other highlight was realizing I was buzzed. I asked a server – the prettiest, of course – for a particular beer and handed her what I didn’t realize was my half-full glass of beer. She wondered if I wanted to discard that, saving my ego, but I chugged it and let her refill the glass. Smooth as always. Overall, I looked past it and also let none of my complaints get me down, proceeding along in good fun with a firm curiosity. Now, for the drinks, in reverse order of my caring for them:

- Two Brothers (IL) – Resistance IPA (6.9%)
The last of many IPAs I had. Also the last of many I disliked. I’ve never really liked IPAs and I don’t know why I would have started that day. But I stayed open-minded until proving what I already thought I knew. I chose this one, as I did many that day, by its name. The Two Brothers was also the name of the first book I ever had published. I was in first grade, and I’m pretty convinced those laminated, bound pieces of construction paper set for borrowing in the school library are what made me want to become a writer, even more than any of the other shit that’s happened since. The book was eventually stolen from that library, by the way, so that loss has always loomed large as well. The story was basically about pregnancy (and loneliness, apparently) and showed a fucked-up maturity, looking back at it. What happened there? Oh, and Muse has the song “Resistance” and the album called almost the same so I had to try it for that reason, too. I chose poorly.

-Defiant – Lil Thumper English Pale (5%)
Adorable name, or creepy name. One of the weakest beers I tried, in strength and in personal assessment, though my friends thought highly of it.

-Greenport Harbor (NY) – Harbor Ale Dry-hopped with Amarillo (6.5%)
In the notes I made along the way, for this one I wrote, “Meh.” Mighty strong word.

-Blue Point – Old Howling Bastard (10%)
Yeah, this was a “barleywine.” Powerful and different. It was like drinking port. I had some port with dinner that night and preferred that.

-Left Hand (CO) – Stranger Pale Ale (5%)
Kinda liked this one, which was the second one I tried, but others nudged ahead over the afternoon. I love the name, though, and also enjoy the Left Hand Milk Stout, which our Beer Tasting group at Blackbird’s in Astoria liked enough to get in bottles for the winter. It might still be there.

-Victory (PA) – Yakima Glory Ale (8.7%)
I think this was the last beer I tried. I was toasted by then but still trusted my taste buds, which didn’t argue with this guy.

-Riverhorse (NJ) – Oak Aged Bourbon Tripel Horse (10%)
The second of the two bourbon beers I’d had that weekend. Very, very tasty, and strong. I’ve filed this style away.

-Lagunitas (CA) – Imperial Stout (10.14%)
First impressions, man. The Stout caught my attention, as did the alcohol content. Lagunitas sounds Lithuanian to me, though when I once asked a bartender about it he insisted it was from California and only ever California. I wasn’t being clear enough, I guess. For every reason, though, I enjoyed this beer the most of all beers. And it’s more than twice as strong as Guinness, so there’s that.

-Old-Fashioned w/Beer and Pistachio Bitters
Oddly, maybe, the best drink I had all day was offered by the guys from The Stag’s Head, from the place on the East Side. I was handed a plastic cup of this by one of my friends, and I drank it right down. Amazing. Really. It sounds like its ingredients, refreshing and with a kick, but it wasn’t too sweet, either. It was served on ice and might very well have earned at least one trip on my behalf up to the restaurant itself.

And there was the day. I was thrilled to be invited to this gathering, and will be sure to go again. This company/association Get Real NY seems to have things like this every so often, of slightly different kinds, so there will be things to check out before a year from now. Enjoy!