{"id":23016,"date":"2024-06-12T01:11:57","date_gmt":"2024-06-11T13:11:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/philcook.net\/beerdiary\/?p=23016"},"modified":"2024-06-12T01:48:30","modified_gmt":"2024-06-11T13:48:30","slug":"east-7th-street","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/philcook.net\/beerdiary\/2024\/06\/12\/east-7th-street\/","title":{"rendered":"Three bars on East 7th Street, New York, one Monday in November"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>
That’s McSorley’s ale house (which is old), not McSorley’s house (of old ale)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Late last year we were fortunate enough to be in New York, happily spending each day walking towards some landmark or other and then exploring the surrounding neighbourhood a bit before catching the subway home. After visiting the stunning Public Library<\/a> and the enormous Strand Bookstore<\/a>, I saw we were close to a couple of pins I’d put into my map before the trip<\/span>1<\/sup><\/a><\/span> so we walked a few more blocks \u2014 and stumbled into a succession of quietly magical moments. One unassuming little street, three lessons in how to be a great bar.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

McSorley’s<\/strong> was the first stop. I’d read about it ages ago \u2014 you know you’re dealing with an institution when there’s a profile in Modern Drunkard<\/em><\/a> which is now itself old enough to drink in the U.S., nevermind a piece in The New Yorker<\/em><\/a> from the year my father was born \u2014 but it spent a long time in the ‘tentative’ section of my vague plans. Something about descriptions of the sawdusted floor and the peculiar two-glass pour of beers only ever described as ‘light’ or ‘dark’ had the whiff of gimmickry. But a strong endorsement from a regular of mine (all the stronger for the fact he’s no kind of beer nerd and so lacked any in-built reverence for these things) swayed me, and I’m very glad it did;<\/span>2<\/sup><\/a><\/span> it’s an extremely charming place. It is also<\/em> rather unusual and something of a museum, but those are secondary to it being a great pub.<\/p>\n

Its eccentricities seemed honest and well-worn, not like the affectations of someone trying to be zany to compensate for a lack of personality. Service was relaxed and welcoming, with none of the over-explanation a ‘themed’ venue might feel it needed. Just come in, have a beer (or two) and be good or be gone <\/span>(as the sign says).<\/span>3<\/sup><\/a><\/span> We sat, reading the walls,<\/span>4<\/sup><\/a><\/span> enjoying but not overthinking the beer, and soaked in the background noise of other conversations, the clink of those heavy-bottomed glasses together and the thunk of them on the tables \u2014 and the absence of anything else. It was such top tier burble<\/em> that I was moved to record it. Naturally, the resulting file entirely failed to capture it, but I don’t think I’ve ever before felt I needed to try<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Two beers, despite appearances<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"<\/a>
A back bar full of relics<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"<\/a>
A back room full of frames<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Burp Castle<\/strong> was so close by as to be irresistible after that. I had added it to my map after reading a piece in\u00a0Good Beer Hunting<\/em><\/a> and had remembered the general Belgian monastic vibe but forgotten its own particular quirk: a rule to speak only in whispers. But again we got the sense that we weren’t expected to know<\/em> the bar’s foibles, just to adapt to them once they became clear. Halfway through my first beer, I had fully acclimated; it was just like switching from hanging out in a busy bookstore to being in a library (fittingly enough, for the day we had).<\/span>5<\/sup><\/a><\/span> A place where a serene, meditative mood was the norm rather than a piece of lucky timing (or, worse, the sign of a ‘dead’ day) felt truly special.<\/p>\n

The bartender twice broke out of his muted default. Once, when I was contemplating my second beer and asked his opinion of a relatively-local tripel, he brightened and said without hesitation “oh, that shit’s beautiful<\/em>” (he was not wrong). Then, after a few more couples and groups had filtered in and the volume level crept up, as it does, he very gently \u2014 but with the direct insistence of an exam proctor \u2014 shushed the crowd. We’d previously heard him training a fill-in bartender: “the whispering thing is kind of a joke, but also kind of not”, and that seemed to capture things perfectly.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Understated, for a castle frontage<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Signage<\/a>
“No mobiles, no wigwams…”<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Burp<\/a>
Tap list, bottle lamp, rope-wrapped steam pipe<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"A<\/a>
One of many murals of monks<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Proletariat<\/strong> was a pure happy accident. Heading back towards the subway, Emma spotted the name painted on the window of a gorgeous dark bar and knew both would appeal. One last beer, then, to slowly return to “normal”. After the 1800-something feel of McSorley’s<\/span>6<\/sup><\/a><\/span> and the 1990s-into-early-2000s of Burp Castle,<\/span>7<\/sup><\/a><\/span> this was classic 2020s modern craft beer bar, done beautifully. I had a suitably on-trend trial-hop hazy IPA from Finback, and quietly marveled at how deftly the bartender was handling a guy a few seats further along the bar who was being annoying \u2014 despite the extra power imbalances of the tipping economy.<\/span>8<\/sup><\/a><\/span> More than the others, this place could’ve been anywhere, but I’m glad it was here<\/em> on our way home.<\/p>\n

Despite their differences, all three bars had one thing in common, and it made for a powerful reminder to get a triple dose in one evening, on one street. They know what they are, and you are absolutely invited to be part of it. The door is open. But \u2014 they say, each in their own terms and as nicely as possible \u2014 if you want something else, go somewhere else<\/em>.\u00a0The door opens the other way, too.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Modern American IPA by candlelight<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"<\/a>
A good sign (and two happy wanderers)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"\"<\/a>Diary IV, entries 78-80, transcribed:<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

McSorley’s, estd. 1856<\/strong> 13\/11\/23, after a walk down Fifth Ave for the New York Public Library and Strand. Book day, apparently. (I’ll admit the latter didn’t get me like Powell’s, maybe that says something more about me.)<\/span>9<\/sup><\/a><\/span> I thought this place sounded gimmicky; the sawdust, the beer as “dark” or “light” only, the weird low-tide multi-glass service. But damn if it doesn’t just work<\/u>. Felt very welcoming, like nothing was a problem, things would be explained. Beers were fine, and that’s all I ever ask. But the bar was great, in its singular way. Tonnes of history on display. The quiet burble of people and the clinking of heavy handle mugs the only soundtrack.<\/span><\/p>\n

Burp Castle<\/strong> 13\/11\/23, 100m away. And which makes the previous sound like foreshadowing. I only knew the Belgian-ish vibe of this place. The murals were a nice surprise. The whisper-quiet rule, not so much. I mean, it’s fine now<\/u> but I don’t think I’ve\u00a0faus pas\u2019<\/em>d so hard in a long time. Duvel for me is helping. Houblon Chouffe for Em. Piano solo soundtrack, exclusively. It would be crazy-making torture for so, so many people. But once you dial yourself in its pretty nice. Then a River Horse Tripel because 1) Hippo, 2) I can get the Euro stuff pretty regularly (this is from NJ) and 3) when I asked the suitably taciturn bartender, he said “oh, that shit’s beautiful” without skipping a beat. And he’s not wrong. The softest touch of “hot” and “sweet”, neither within shouting of bad. \u2014 Both places feel singular<\/u>, and there’s not enough of that. There’s even less of that where a new person isn’t made to feel a jackass just for being new. Em had it that both places feel sacred<\/u>, and she’s onto something. <\/span><\/p>\n

Proletariat<\/strong> 13\/11\/23, between the previous two, stumbled on it and couldn’t resist. “Rare, new + unusual beers.” Finback ‘In Full View’ IPA with a number hop (17701 if my eyesight is holding). Super nice and modern-USA, all melon + citrus + good times. It’s a beautiful spot, copper bar, tin roof, low light. Plus one chatty jackass bothering the barkeep, but she’s a pro, she’s got this. What a street!<\/span><\/p>\n

\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Late last year we were fortunate enough to be in New York, happily spending each day walking towards some landmark or other and then exploring the surrounding neighbourhood a bit before catching the subway home. After visiting the stunning Public Library and the enormous Strand Bookstore, I saw we were close to a couple of … Continue reading Three bars on East 7th Street, New York, one Monday in November<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[3,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-23016","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-diary","category-locations"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":983,"url":"https:\/\/philcook.net\/beerdiary\/2010\/10\/29\/house-on-hood-and-house-croucher-mighty-golden-ale\/","url_meta":{"origin":23016,"position":0},"title":"House on Hood, and House \/ Croucher ‘Mighty’ Golden Ale","author":"Phil","date":"October 29, 2010","format":false,"excerpt":"Hamilton really does get a bad rap. Frequently from me, I'll freely admit. It just has this big, flat, sprawling bland black hole kind of a feel to it -- especially when you're trying to get through it on your way somewhere else. But there were increasing rumours of Good\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Actual Diary entries"","block_context":{"text":"Actual Diary entries","link":"https:\/\/philcook.net\/beerdiary\/category\/diary\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"Beer taps at House on Hood","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/philcook.net\/beerdiary\/wp-content\/uploads\/House-on-Hood-taps-225x300.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":303,"url":"https:\/\/philcook.net\/beerdiary\/2007\/12\/10\/orkney-dark-island\/","url_meta":{"origin":23016,"position":1},"title":"Orkney ‘Dark Island’","author":"Phil","date":"December 10, 2007","format":false,"excerpt":"Verbatim: Orkney Brewery Dark Island. 10\/12\/07, $6ish, 4.6%, 500ml. Watching House. Very black, but the bubbles don't hang around. 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