Anticipation on Tap at Dogfish Head

Dogfish Head Alehouse
6220 Leesburg Pike
Falls Church, VA




Look, nobody is more excited than me about the renaissance of good beer we’re all enjoying right now in America.

It seems like every city across “fly over” country, no matter how blue collar, unhip and unsophisticated, is bragging about at least one or two new start-up microbreweries. (I’m talking about you -- Cleveland, Norfolk, Jacksonville, Oklahoma City.)

Where once a trip to the corner bar meant a tedious exercise of listening to your waitress list off the mass produced yellow piss water most Americans are still addicted to, I can now almost always count on at least one or two decent local brewed craft beers. No matter what corner of America Southwest Airlines happened to drop me into.

And I’m happy about that. I’ll take a local clever-named “Fill-in-the-Blank” obligatory Brown Ale, Red Ale, IPA, Stout, etc., over a Bud Light every time.

But let’s face it, some of these brew masters could use a little more imagination.

They should take a trip out to the Delaware coast to pay a visit to The Dogfish Head Brewery which is constantly pushing the boundaries of the most adventuresome beer drinkers in America.

Those guys in Rehoboth Beach are nuts!

They brew beers with raisins, gesho root, cilantro, ginger, honey, blackberries, blueberries, kumquats, maple syrup, black tea, toasted amaranth and fungus-infected grapes.

You can get Dogfish beers aged in exotic Paraguayan Palo Santo wood. Or brewed from a recipe found on a 2,700 year old beer jug that was buried in King Midas’ tomb.

In other words, don’t bring your girlfriend who “only drinks Bud Light Lime” to this place.

She won’t be happy.

That might explain why Dogfish Head decided to open a small cluster of alehouses in the Washington DC metro area – almost 200 miles from their birthplace on the Delaware coast.

If you’ve ever been to Rehoboth Beach, you’ll know what I mean.

Dogfish beers are for manly men who can lift their beer glasses to their lips with sturdy wrists. Clearly, there aren’t enough of them around Rehoboth Beach.

These are high octane, high alcohol muscular beers that will put hair on your chest.

And I couldn’t be more excited to check the place out.

For Suit757, a journey to the Dogfish Head Alehouse in Falls Church is like Moses climbing to the summit of Mt. Sinai.

The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

What if they have the mythical 20% ABV 120 Minute IPA on draft? What if they serve all kinds of crazy beers I’ve never even heard of before?

Should I try something completely different? Or reacquaint myself with my rare favorites?

What if I drink so much high octane double digit alcohol beer that I don’t even know what I’m drinking?

My apprehension only increased as I made my way to the bar. The place was standing room only – on a Wednesday night!

Over the bar was a huge chalk board listing all the beers available that night.

I have to admit, it was a bit overwhelming.

It was like walking into a room full of your heroes, Ronald Reagan, Ron Paul, Robert E. Lee, John Wayne and Jesus.

What do I do now?

I’ve been waiting all my life for this moment. I didn’t want to screw it up.

Almost immediately, a female bartender asked me what I wanted.

Like Ralphie on Santa’s lap, my brain froze.

Eyes darting up and down the chalkboard, I was looking at the chalky words on the board – 60 Minute IPA, Indian Brown, Chicory Stout – but the information wasn’t registering with my brain.

So much great beer. I wanted to try them all.

But, no! I had to choose. But how?

Oh, the cruelty.

After some interminable number of seconds passed, the bartender decided she had better things to do in the jam-packed bar than watch my glazed over eyes and open mouth as I starred blankly at the chalk board above me.

She helpfully handed me a detailed beer menu and said, “I’ll check back with you in a minute.”

As I clutched the laminated document outlining in exquisite detail all the available beers, I felt myself calming down a bit.

Okay. I can do this.

I began to formulate a plan of action. I knew that I needed to go with the high alcohol beers early in the evening – while I could still appreciate them.

I definitely wanted to try some of the experimental crazy Dogfish beers I’ll never find at home.

But not right off the bat. Nope. Let’s start with something I know is good. And strong.

So, confidence restored, I strode to the edge of the bar and ordered a Burton Baton, a kick-ass 10% ABV hoppy dark beer. The hops are muted a bit by a sweet vanilla flavor acquired as the brew ages for a month in oak barrels.

I doubt you’ll find anything this good at your local microbrewery. Beer doesn’t get much better than Dogfish’s Burton Baton.

One of my dining companions is -- let’s just say -- a little less adventurous when it comes to beer drinking.

I noticed apprehension in his eyes too as he gazed at the black board.

But for completely different reasons.

He asked the bartender, “Do you have anything like a lager?”

Translation: “Which of these beers is closest to Bud Light?”

“Go with the Shelter Pale Ale,” she said.

The menu says it is their “most approachable beer.”

In other words, perfect for girlfriends and Rehoboth Beach bed and breakfast owners.

To be honest, the Shelter Pale Ale is a tasty brew. I would expect noting less from America’s greatest brewery. But at 5% ABV and no discernable hop bite, I wouldn’t even consider wasting one of my limited beer choices on it.

Instead, on my second round I opted for a My Antonia, an “imperial pilsner”.

An “imperial pilsner?” That’s like “jumbo shrimp”. Or “civil war.”

It’s an oxymoron in a glass.

The menu describes it, ironically enough, as “a lager for ale lovers”. In other words, my lager-loving buddy would probably hate it.

My Antonia is a light colored lager with lots of hops. Crisp, refreshing and delicious, I found My Antonia to pack even more of a hop wallop than the Burton Baton.

At this point I was ready to just go crazy.

Unfortunately, most of the off-beat experimental beers on the laminated menu were not available on draft, including the 120 Minute IPA, Immort Ale and World Wide Stout, which dashed my hopes of an over-the-top flight of four different mind-blowing beers.

Rather than go with a sampler of stuff I’ve tried before, I decided to get creative.

As a proud Suit of Irish descent, I’m normally morally opposed to contaminating a perfectly good Guinness with a repugnant British lager by ordering a “black and tan.”

But the Dogfish Head version of a “black and tan” intrigued me. I mean, when else will I be able to mix multiple Dogfish brews on tap?

My Dogfish black and tan was a sight to behold. A dark layer of Dogfish Chicory Stout layered over a base of 90 Minute IPA.

Now that’s a marriage I can drink to!

In all this excitement, I almost forgot to tell you about the food.

Yes, they do serve food at the Dogfish Head Alehouse. Good food too.

After all that high potency beer, I might not be the best one to judge, but I really liked my cup of crab soup.

Generous clumps of crab meat floated on a thick, hearty stew. It was a good taste of Delaware.

The calamari appetizer we all split was excellent also. Huge clumps of squid fried crisp were accompanied by spicy banana peppers, which added a nice kick.

Unfortunately, the standard issue cocktail sauce was not the right condiment. A nice aioli or remoulade would really elevate the dish.

For entrees, the menu listed a vast variety of options, from wood oven baked pizzas to ribs to sandwiches to pastas to burgers.

Perhaps because I was just exhausted from all the evening’s gut wrenching decision making, I opted for a ten dollar bratwurst -- the first thing I looked at.

The sausage was dense and flavorful and served in a sturdy pretzel roll, but the banana pepper sauerkraut overwhelmed the taste of the brat. I’m not really a big sauerkraut guy anyway, so I scrapped most of it off.

Like the calamari, the brat suffered under the wrong accompaniment. Grilled onions and peppers would be a better option.

Along side the two brats came a small dish of meaty chili and a whole pile of tortilla chips.

The tiny portion of chili was good enough to make me want to come back and order a whole bowl next time.

Ah, next time.

The Dogfish Head Alehouse is definitely a place you want to come back to. Again and again.

Next time I’ll try one of the pizzas. Or the firewood smoked ribs.

And can you imagine what kind of new crazy beer concoctions those boys in Delaware will come up with next?

My head’s already swimming with anticipation.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt.

Lights Out and Bottoms Up in Bean Town

American Craft

1700 Beacon St.

Brookline, MA

As much as it pains me to admit it, Yankees do a get a few things right.

Like beer.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love my wild-boar-killing, tobacco-spitting, fellow NASCAR-watching redneck friends dearly, but sometimes I just get tired of drinking massive quantities of watered down Coors Light.



That can be a problem when you live in the South – the last corner of America to embrace good beer.



Of course, that’s one of the advantages of being Suit757.



When I get tired of the ubiquitous selection of Bud Light, Coors Light, Miller Lite and Yuengling, it’s only a matter of time before I’ll be jetting off to some region of America where – by default – they have a more adventurous taste in cold suds.



Like Massachusetts.

Okay. You’re right. The Peoples’ Republic isn’t in America.



But there is one reason to break out your passport, Boston-English translation booklet and get your vaccinations updated.


Really good beer.



Specifically, the world-famous Publick House in Brookline, just a few “T” stops down the Green Line from Fenway Park.



Baseball fans have Cooperstown. Terrorists have Mecca. Constitution-shredding leftists have the Lincoln Memorial.

But beer drinkers have the Publick House.



I have one of those big coffee table books in the Suit757 compound titled “Beers of the World”. The Publick House gets a mention.



Like I said. World. Famous.



So imagine the soul-crushing disappoint when I discovered that a localized “brown out” knocked out the Publick House kitchen. No hot food. No gourmet lobster mac and cheese.



Bummer.



Maybe Barney Frank, who lives nearby, was too preoccupied to pay the electric bill. Or he was testing out his “Cap and Tax” scheme he loves so much.



The good news is the beer was still cold.



As you have probably figured out by now, the Publick House is not just another one of the “tap houses” that pop up in the light-in-the-loafers sections of self-styled sophisticated metro areas where beer snobs can grab a couple flavors of local microbrews.



No. The Publick House offers a selection of the VERY BEST beers the world has to offer.



You know that mouth-watering book on my coffee table? You can get those world class, double digit alcohol, grow-hair-on-your-chest beers right here.

Most of them come from Belgium. The country that is to beer drinkers what Greece is to lazy, rioting, living-on-the-dole, bailout-begging slackers.



My first pour was Houblon Chouffe Dobbelen, a more crisp, hoppy, refreshing version of the typical potent high alcohol Belgian beers.



As you might guess by now, the Publick House takes beer drinking seriously. They even pour your chosen Belgian beer in a glass specifically made by and imported from the brewery you select designed specifically for the beer it contains.



I think that’s pretty cool.



Normally, the only disadvantage of ordering fresh-from-the-brewery draft beer is that you don’t get to peel the label off and stare at the cool artwork that accompanies bottled beer.



Here you get the best of both worlds. I get fresh 10% alcohol beer on draft and I can check out the cool elf dude on the specially-made glass.



The fact that I’m getting excited about staring at a cartoon elf drawing might be a sign that the 10% is getting to me. Oh, boy. This is only my first one.



I’ll blame it on my empty stomach.



Clearly, I can’t stay here long. I’m going to need to line my stomach with something other than liquid barley.



But I can’t leave this world famous bar without trying at least one other brew. One I’ve never had before. One they will never serve at the Hammerhead redneck beach bar two blocks from my home.



I chose the Fore Smoked Stout, not from Belgium, but “imported” from the Dark Horse Brewery in Michigan.



As I’ve written here before, smoked porters are a unique and surprisingly diverse niche for beer connoisseurs like me. The malted barley is smoked. Kind of like what a Guinness would taste like in a really smoky Irish pub – before Ireland banned smoking in pubs, that is.



This Michigan version was tasty, but not that smoky at all.

By this point, I really, really needed some non-liquid sustenance.



Fortunately, the folks at the Publick House recently opened up a sister restaurant one block away called American Craft. Their power was on, the kitchen was open and the place was packed. On a Monday night.



As I understand it, American Craft originally was going to serve Southern style barbeque with a beer selection tilting more toward American “craft brews” rather than beer imported from the Old World. Hence the name.



But Barney and his homo neighbors apparently complained about the smoke.



Yeah. Damn Yankees.



My advice to barbeque craving Bostonians? You’re just going to have to travel to America if that’s what you want.

So I ordered the next best thing. The prime rib sandwich.



Meanwhile, I perused the chalk board of obscure microbrews like a deprived Yankee at a wet T-shirt contest on a Florida spring break.



Mmmm. So much good stuff. So little time.



My first choice was from the most experimental brewery in America – Delaware’s Dogfish Head. Them boys down in Dewey Beach will brew anything. And it usually turns out great!

My Dogfish Head Burton Baton was an imperial IPA with double digit alcohol content and a strong, delicious taste. Four star!



That beer is the personification of why places like the Publick House and American Craft are so much fun.



There just aren’t many places on the planet with such a wide selection of obscure high quality beers. I’m talking beers that have never before graced Suit757’s liver.



Beers like Sixpoint Oyster Stout, brewed in Brooklyn with real oysters!

Extra thick, with a briny texture, this stout had a nice hearty flavor.

“Give me oysters and beer for dinner every day of the year, and I’ll feel fine. I’ll feel fine” – Jimmy Buffett.



Somehow, I doubt this is what Jimmy had in mind. But you know what? I’d bet he’d love it! I know I did.

Especially accompanying my prime rib sandwich and fries.



The beef was braised and shredded, smothered in melted cheese. The fries were top notch, hand cut spuds that served well to soak up all that four star alcohol I’d enjoyed all night.



Not to go all lefty on you, but this was one night I was happy to have the availability of public transportation. Although, I have to say, after standing in the midnight darkness for 20 minutes waiting for one of those century old Green Line trolleys, the “T’ does stretch the definition of “transportation” a bit.



Public transportation. Electricity rationing. Congressmen who run homosexual prostitution rings out of their congressional offices.



And really good beer.



It’s like I always say when I have a good time in a foreign country, “Nice place to visit…



…but I wouldn’t want to live there.”



Rating: Bought the Shirt!