Audio By Carbonatix
Night Watch is a regularly occurring bar review with nightlife columnist Tara Nieuwesteeg.
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Liquor is a cruel, messy mistress, and she doesn’t love me. The last
time I saw her, she left me with a hangover that lasted for three days.
So, as I do every time she leaves me aching, I swore her off. It won’t
last, of course — but it will give me ample time to make her jealous by
experimenting with her smart, sexy, multilayered cousin, Miss Beer.
Early in life, my parents impressed upon me the beauty of beer. Beer
is the answer to hot summer days; beer is the answer to a long day at
work; good times come straight from the brewery. South Florida might be
overrun with more people who enjoy consorting with Miss Liquor than
those who love soaking up the thick, foamy, imported flavor of Miss
Beer, but I was determined to find the beer-loving hot spots scattered
throughout the region. They’re out there, and, as I discovered, they’re
worth looking for.
My first stop was Ye Olde Falcon Pub (2867 S. University Drive, Davie; 954-424-0300, or click here).
Stepping inside this dark, wooden pub is
like happening upon an ancient, sacrosanct ritual ground for a tribe of
beer worshipers. It is low-lit, with scuffed floors, wooden tables,
booths, and a huge oval-shaped bar smack-dab in the middle of the
joint. A mounted warthog head hangs over a doorway, wearing a Santa hat
(clearly some kind of sacrifice to their heathen beer god). Blackboards
mounted over the bar tick off all the available brews (the alcohol
percentages are conveniently there as well).
My friends Beard and Fancy had already found a spot at the bar and
were peppering the blond, bored beer guardian with questions. In the
middle of the space behind the bar sits the true gold: Illuminated by
overhead lights, the beer taps glowed with heavenly glory.
“How many beers do y’all have?” I asked the bartender.
“Forty-nine,” she said with a small smile. “Soon to be 50.”
“What’s the general patron favorite?” I pestered.
“Right now, it’s our pumpkin ale,” she said. She suggested we each purchase four small samples for $8.
“Which has the highest alcohol content?” I demanded. She and Beard
laughed at my question: She thought I was kidding; he knew I wasn’t.
“It’s the Delirium, at 9 percent — we don’t give samples of that, though,” she said, teasing.
Was she insinuating we couldn’t handle it? We’d show her.
She recommended the Holy Mackerel — a close 8.5 percent. Done.
Beard and I agreed on the Holy Mackerel, the Falcon house brew (5 percent), Brooklyn Lager (5.2 percent), and Purple Haze (4.2 percent). Fancy decided to go
balls-out and order a romantic, wheaty brew called “The Love” — a beer
aficionado’s creamy wet dream. She served us our four samples on a
Leinenkugel wooden paddle, and we threw back, swapping glasses among
the three of us.
Of the four, Beard and Fancy both gagged on the dark, bitter Holy
Mackerel, and I got a buzz just from sniffing it. Fancy found the
Purple Haze — a soft, light brew — to be boring, so I drank it all.
Beard relished the Brooklyn, which had a sharp, tangy taste; all three of us agreed that the Falcon house beer — a rich taste reminiscent of Newcastle — was the best.
