The Week in Yelp: Beer Appreciation 101

From the people who brought you The Week in Craig, one of the all time great uses of the internet, comes The Week in Yelp, wherein Amy Blair takes aim at the ridiculousness that is the world of Yelp. Her intrepid Yelp-surfing, and words, follow:

When people tell me they don't like beer, I'm instantly suspicious of them. You kind of have to assume that they are desperately terrified of getting fat (very often the case with people who claim to not like beer) and that they are somehow in denial about what is truly pleasurable in life. In other words, people who don't drink beer are, at least in my mind, self-obsessed and bo-ring. (Sorry, but it's the truth). Beer is good, dudes. And if you're so petrified of calories, just don't eat. It's totally worth it.

Don't believe what I said about non-beer drinkers being egocentric and dull? Here's your evidence?

I really like 3rd Stop for the atmosphere. However, they don't serve hard liquor and I don't drink beer generally. They do however have cider which I like and a really fruity raspberry beer that works for me. The bartenders are hot which is a bonus!

I had dinner here once and it was pretty good. Then I came back for dessert another time and it was mediocre. The hot items weren't hot and it's a little disappointing when you're expecting hot gooey chocolate.

I also witnessed the most bizarre double date here. The guys only talked to each other and the girls whispered amongst themselves. They only talked to each other to buy more drinks. Eventually one couple left and the remaining couple looked around at everything but each other. I think that guy was trying to hit on me without his date noticing. Uh, no thanks. I need hard liquor if I'm going to have to fight. I mean...

I don’t like beer, but the fruity one was ok-yummy! And the bartender was a cutie – total score! And I noticed a couple that didn’t seem to be having the time of their lives, which I’m pretty certain is a sure sign that he wanted to be making out with me more than his horrid little beer-drinking girlfriend. I’m so pretty!

Um, vomit.

Ok, so this next reviewer is kind of an asshole (he calls Brooklyn a “foreign country,” if that says anything). But to be fair, Barcade IS in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, which can be like landing on a foreign PLANET. So we’ll give the douche some credit. Also, this story is kinda funny.

***Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that when I head out to Brooklyn, it's for a family event, to chill in Prospect Park, or for a house party...I don't go to bars out there very often. Barcade was like a foreign country. I had been drinking. The chatter around me sounded like a different language. Everyone was wearing skinny jeans. I was disoriented.***

It was a friend's birthday, let's call her Niki. I arrived late, already slightly snockered from drinking in the city. So I find Niki, give her a birthday kiss, and note that she's running a little low on beer. The ensuing conversation goes like this:

Me: So what are you drinking?
Niki: Jack's Backwash.
*I turn to the bartender*
Me: I'll take a...Bluepoint, and a Jack's Backwash.
Bartender: Huh?
Me: Bluepoint, and a Jack's Backwash.
Bartender: Why don't you check on that second one, buddy ('buddy' sounded suspiciously like 'idiot').
*Turn back to Niki*
Me: I don't think they have Jack's Backwash.
Niki: *pauses, confused, and then laughs hysterically in my face*

Evidently Jack is Niki's friend's brother; he didn't like whatever it was he had ordered, and he had given it to her to finish. This was embarrassing.

In my defense, there are a ton of microbrews that I've never heard of, and certainly more than a few unappetizing names (Moose Drool, Dead Guy Ale, Santa's Butt Porter, to name a few). Was it really such a stretch that Jack's Backwash could be some sort of obscure, hipster beer? Shut up.

Hee hee. Woops!

Next, here’s a review of Belgian beer bar, La Trappe, from a reviewer whose histrionics are somewhat pathetically amusing?but overall just sad. After all the so-called lessons on eying, winking, footsie, and touching, girlfriend never even actually got laid. Dude!

GREAT ATMOSPHERE! I can not wait to take my girlfriends here when they come to visit.

Here should be your plan of action: Start out standing at the bar with all of the other singles and mingle, eye a guy, give him the buy me a drink "wink", then once you have landed your new man head over to one of the tables to talk about the important things that get discussed when you meet a guy in a bar (i.e. your place or mine), finally head over to the couches and plush chairs to play footsie and you touch me, I'll touch you to get you going before you head out and back to the discussed location. I should totally be a dating coach. Oh, wait, that would mean I would have to call the next day... scratch that. . Basically all the bases for various stages of the night and game are covered.

I met some friends here, we hung out on the couches, drank mass quantities of good beer, ordered some tasty food (which took awhile to arrive but the waitress was apologetic), had a great time. The bar tenders are easy on the eyes, and flirt just the right amount ( I hate over the top bartenders, pet peeve of mine), there was a great mix of people in here for a Thursday night.

I may not have executed the plan listed above, but I feel like someone should! La Trappe is perfect for it!

1st time visitor make note: You have to go through the restaurant and down the stairs to get to the bar, if you get lost just look at the host with a confused face and he will point you in the right direction!

She actually says “basically all the bases for various stages of the night and game are covered.” Honey, shhh. Just drink a beer and no talkie-talkie.

Last but not least, a visitor to New York’s Burp Castle reports on the, um, atmosphere.

The place smelled like a warm beer fart, but in spite of that I really enjoyed it. It's pretty weird to go to a place where there is no music. I liked it way more than I thought I would. It was so nice to have an actual conversation with the group I was with.

Smelled like a warm beer fart. Oh, booze, how I love thee so. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need a Jack’s Backwash.

—Amy Blair