113 North 7th Street @ Berry Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
(718) 218-6006
http://www.drinkgoodstuff.com/ny/default.asp
The Passport blurb: This Brooklyn version of the venerable Manhattan and New Orleans institutions has come into it's own over the last year with an equally impressive selection of beers and fine spirits. It wouldn't be d.b.a. without a great patio out back, and Brooklyn doesn't disappoint.
The deal: No year-round deal
The bar: Another (seemingly) quiet joint with a long bar and outdoor space located in the back populated by brave/cold souls. The beer list was mind-boggling, suspended above the bar in long lists that were organized according to region. I'm a Virgo, so I LOVE LISTS! Clams and I pondered an exotic Mexican brew called "Corona" but settled on some seasonal fare. I chose the Riverhorse Imperial Pumpkin. We both got the $8 pretzel & a pint deal which was (eventually) served with yummy spicy mustard. The place was staffed by space-cadets, one of which forgot our pretzels were being warmed in the oven and had to re-bake them after forgetting the task had been started/finished. Other than that, the service was good. Our bartender did require a credit card to start the tab but sometimes that's just policy, and we got a buyback at the end of the night. My second beer was a New Orleans staple: Abita Turbo Dog. I don't do many dark beers but this one somehow makes me feel at home...it wasn't on the massive lists above the bar, but if you're curious enough and ask for it they'll give you one. As The Gibson had, this bar kept becoming more and more crowded. Although there was no baseball fascination, it did eventually get hard to hear one another. Don't want to seem like an agoraphobic- it was a good place with extensive beer choices, I just generally prefer a chill environment. For our buyback/exit brew I got a Stone IPA. Cold, bitter and delicious, it was a nice way to wrap up the night.
The narrative: So although d.b.a was technically featured in the Passport, there wasn't a year-round deal. Regardless of that shortcoming I wanted to check out this loc to see how it compared to the original in New Orleans which I have visited before. I was hoping for a stage and band, neither of which was present, but the far-reaching selection and laid back staff did meet expectations. Clams and I strolled over from noisy baseball-mania and were happy to find this easygoing oasis. We continued on our conversational path of respective recent life narratives and were well on our way to drunktown. We talked about such things as: the weirdness of sleeping out of town after you first move to NYC because that's when you realize how quiet it is as at night in places outside the city, and how cute kittens are. It was just another awesome Friday. Clams' friend joined us along the way and they were destined for bigger and better (strip club) things, so I eventually bid adieu. I already had developed an acute case of the stumbles, plus there was a phantom taco truck to find...I never did find it. I walked for as long as my thin jacket and the current chill would allow and eventually settled for the run-of-the-mill taco truck by the subway entrance. I then took my taco-treat to go and was heading down the stairs to the next L train when an errant hipster bumped me, causing much of said taco-treat disperse itself on my Billyburg appropriate vintage track jacket. This angered me...but instead of yelling at him, I ate the remains of the tahco (say it out loud, feels better with an "h", doesn't it?) and raged about the incident by instead putting pen to paper in my journal on the train ride home. When in Rome...
The verdict: It's aight and the pretzels were a nice bonus snack, you should go. Please mos def check out the one in New Orleans if you get the chance, maybe I'll see you there. Cheers.
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