Goose Island

One of the first things I learned on my Chicago trip was that Goose Island at Clybourn had changed and that I wouldn't like it. Maybe that affected my friends thoughts on the matter, as no trip there was scheduled, but I had liked it a lot last time and thought "What the Hell? I'm giving it a go." Opportunity knocked when the Yankees who didn't fly home on Sunday went to the baseball on the opening day of the season. Now I'd rather scoop my eyes out with a spoon than do that, so Goose Island it was. Again the Chicago Public Transport system was up to the task. It's pretty good, though for some bizarre reason, you can't buy a day ticket from most stations, instead having to go to a convenience store. Just a little tip should you ever go there.

Set in what can best be described as an industrial area, I got there around one in the afternoon to find the place heaving. I found a good spot at the bar though and soon made friends with the young couple next to me. Thanks Becky and Derek. The beer menu was perused and I knew I was in for a good time when I realised there was 24 beers on offer ranging from an English style mild at 3.5% to a mighty Bourbon stout at 13.5%. None seemed more expensive than anywhere else, despite dire warnings to the contrary. Being a sucker for Belgian style wheat, something the Yanks seem to do even better than the Belgians, I started with the Wit which was on the money, but maybe a little too lemony for some. Then via a couple of tasters - as long as you are buying, tasters are no problem and in fact were offered more often than not - to Goose Island IPA, the classic GI beer and just as good as ever. Then to celebrate the new baseball season in the only way I'd be happy doing, by drinking the celebratory Opening Day IPA at 6.4% which though it I didn't like as much as the "ordinary" IPA, was pretty damn good anyway.

Then the stouts; Maplewood Farm Bacon Stout which was much better than the name suggests, a pint of Blackberry Stout which was an excellently balanced beer and followed by generous tasters of Bourbon Coffee Stout and Bourbon County Imperial Stout - the 13.5% bad boy - both were magnificent, but you wouldn't want a lot of them. I moved down the scale somewhat, by settling back to drink Honkers (cask) and IPA. (As an aside I made a mental comparison with the version brewed in the UK for JDW and from memory they were pretty similar.) Then my civilised visit was over and it was off to the Map Room for a bit of an Alpha King sesh with some cold and wet baseball fans. That was a bit less civilised!

Goose Island Clybourn really does have something for everyone. It is friendly, buzzy, has knowledgeable and attentive staff and good food; it's easy to get to and isn't overpriced by Chicago standards. Oh. And the beer (and company)is pretty damn good too. If you are ever there, don't miss it.

Apologies for this indulgent post, but that's my Chicago trip done with.

The Map Room and Hop Leaf

Considering my tiredness I was pretty well OK on Friday morning. After a "wherethefuckamI?" kind of wander round near my hotel, I was having coffee in one of the many coffee spots in Chicago, a town that seems to take its coffee seriously and contemplating breakfast, when my phone rang. It was Jeff. "We are meeting for lunch in the Frontera Grill at 11.30." What? Lunch at 11.30? Still when in Rome. I didn't know this of course, but this is one of the most sought after places in Chicago. My mate Ryan, a noted foodie, was practically purring. It was simply fantastic and made so more by the good company and the fact that we had a reserved table for nine, while queues snaked outside the building and onto the street. You want some details? My friend Jeff's blog has it here, though my cocktail(s), recommended by Ryan were stunning. Base of tequila with green chilli, cilantro and lime juice among other stuff I can't remember, it was the perfect pick me up.

But man cannot live by refried beans and tequila alone, so we hit the train and off to the Map Room which isn't a brewpub, but a proper boozer and a bit of a classic. Long and low ceilinged, with big windows and festooned with world flags and an oddly distorted map of the world on the rear wall, it has a great atmosphere, though oddly much less in your face service than is normal. And if you are going, bring cash. Unusually the credit card, a mainstay everywhere else, is not accepted there. Allagash White for me for the first three or so, a classic Belgian Wit which ticks every box. Then on to Alpha King while getting and giving tastes of various others from Sour Belgian style Bokor Flemish Red through to Imperial IPA's barley wines and more from Arcadia, Lost Abbey, Dark Horse and Metropolitan. Some of the boys then went off in search of Italian beef sandwiches (where did they put them? I was stuffed) while a few of us kept the Alpha King tap red hot. I reckon the Map Room is my favourite pub in Chicago and probably one of the world's top twenty. Not cheap though and a strong will is needed to cough up fifty bucks or so a round, (plus tip) but a great place.

Then a complicated taxi ride to Hop Leaf which was literally full to the rafters, as the upstairs room is in the eaves. Some of the Italian beef brigade didn't like it for reasons best known to themselves and fled to the Clark Street Ale House, but those of us that stayed were rewarded not only by wall to wall totty (much more conservatively dressed than at home) but by Alpha King, Dogfish Head Raison D'etre, Bell's Brown Ale, Metropolitan and a host of Belgians, ignored by us except for one aberrant round of Timmerman's Peche! Another great bar, but maybe better on a quieter night.

And so ended day two for me, though the rump that went to the Clark Street Alehouse were apparently chucked out at four a.m. closing, by which time I had been in the Land of Nod for at least two hours.

Revolution, Stamina and Bryson

My first Chicago drink (this time) was in Rock Bottom Brewery (more on this in a further post) a couple of hours after I arrived, knackered but slightly freshened after a shower in my lovely Hilton room. (Hotwire does not suck). I met Joel there and had a couple of decent beers while we caught up. Aware of the fact that I'd been up a long number of weary hours, I started slowly with a Chicago Gold, a lightly hopped, well balanced drinkable beer and followed up with a very nice Belgian Wit which was refreshing and lemony. Joel's German style pilsner was great too. Then off on the El to Piece (a brewpub) to meet the Rock Bottom brewer, Pete, really nice guy, whose last day it was. I should add here that he is leaving Rock Bottom to set up his own brewpub, so another one is coming for the well established Chicago scene. On entry a remarkable co-incidence. A colleague of mine from BSF at GBBF was there. We gave a double take as we recognised each other. Well you would do wouldn't you? Carl, had been stranded by the ash cloud and was awaiting his return to Amsterdam. Piece's beers will be covered later but were pretty drinkable, though by that time who knows what my palate was like, but I am informed by Andy my friend, that some mystery extra beers arrived at the end, including an "awesome barley wine". Things were slipping by then but I remember the pizza was also excellent.

Then the other boys joined us to make eight and it all went downhill. Off to Revolution Brewing next where we bumped into American writer Lew Bryson, an old mate of ours, big and cheerful as ever, whose laugh could be heard throughout the packed and noisy pub (as always.) Iron Fist Pale Ale was my beer of choice with its very moreish Cascade/Centennial/Amarillo mix, but I also tried tasters of various others and while not overwhelmingly brilliant, were all very decent beers and not too strong either. Around 1.30 a.m. realising I had been up for over 26 hours, I retired, still in reasonable shape - well I was by 26 hours up standards - back to the hotel where sleep was instant. It was there (Revolution) that one of the lads fell asleep, but by then I already was, albeit in bed, not the pub.

That set the pattern, but unbeknown to me, my next drink would be a tequila cocktail. Yes really and what a cocktail and the best Mexican meal ever at Frontera Grill.

Photo is the exterior of Revolution Brewing

My Kind of Town - Mostly

Chicago is big and brash and like most cities in America, laid out on a grid pattern, which makes navigation easy, though there seems to be an assumption that everyone carries a compass in their head. Knowing North, South, East and West is kind of assumed, but once you figure that out, it is straightforward. There is an excellent and cheap public transit system and buses fill in the gaps. Main metro lines run all night. And there are pubs, though the good ones aren't particularly near each other and while there is good food, a liking for pizza and burgers is a distinct advantage in brewpubs. Apart from the transport, nothing is very cheap and beer servings are small, rarely even being as much as 16oz, the US pint. Measures are vague and described variously as snifter, half, tulip, imperial, pint, glass, Willi, or in ounces. Short measure is the rule. You get what you are given.

So now we have the basics, let's talk about the beer itself. Recently there has been much discussion about how American craft beer is getting seriously (and dangerously) too strong. This case seems well supported by Chicago and one that does tend to have you scratching your head as to what to drink. A five percent beer there is a rarity, a sub five percent one almost non existent. And here I must shatter a myth. People do like to have a drink and they do like to have one or two more than one or two. There was a lot of beer being drunk. Conversations - and Americans are pretty friendly people - elicit that a lot of people do think it is out of hand and getting worse. It seems hard to get into an American brewer's head, that flavour doesn't have to come from alcohol. It is my observation that at the craft beer scene, this hell for leather dash for strength, is brewer not customer driven. My American friends are used to this, but they too would like a bit more lower strength stuff. Our outing to the Map Room (great place) meant that Alpha King was one of the weakest beers all day at 6%. And we were there for quite a few hours. It makes it dangerously easy to get completely pissed. Fortunately a few pints of the delicious Allagash White, made life a little easier, but even this is 5.5% (not 5% as in the picture). See what I mean?

There was one honourable exception. Goose Island Brewing where I went on Sunday, while my mates went to baseball and got thoroughly soaked and cold). There you could get a 3.2% mild or a 3.5% bitter in English style, while there were other beers of drinkable strength too, for example Honkers at 4.2%. More of Goose Island in a subsequent post.

I know it is a different culture and that you might argue that you could have samplers - we did sometimes - or small measures - we did- or just drink less - well we did as you simply can't swoop such strong beers (though sometimes we did), but really, have a look at the beer menu above and ask yourself if it is sensible or balanced? I know that you will reply that it isn't meant to be, but if Goose Island see the merit in it, there must be some call for it surely?

Of course we could just have drank Bud/Miller/Coors, but that was never on the cards, so strong beer it was, but we'd have liked a choice.

Since this subject is topical I thought it was worth an airing. Next posts will be all positive as I had a fantastic time.