Ramirez Liquor

Where exactly the tip came from, we don’t remember. But a few long blocks from Mariachi Plaza, on a potholed stretch between 7th Street and Whitter Blvd. in East Los Angeles, there’s an impressive tequila wonderland that more than minors in beer. Just look for the unassuming liquor store façade and ‘Ramirez Liquor’ in red block letters.
Inside, glossy, turquoise blown-glass bottles of 100 percent blue agave and curly-cued clay casks of smoky Mezcal hang above the cashiers like sacred spoils of an arts and crafts fair. Old wooden shelves boast standard snack-attack prada like lime-chile Cheetohs, but the closer you stroll toward the long diagonal wall of beer fridges, the crammed shelf space slowly gives way to dark, corked bottles waiting to take their place in the ice.
At Ramirez, the Cali-beer selections veer into welcomed territory, with lots of hoppy bombers from Port Brewing, Russian River and Beer Valley (Leefer Madness ale anyone?). Poke deeper in the fridge and you’re likely to unearth some rarer surprises. Shopping here is truly all about the corners: check top-shelf nooks and side-space crevices. We spotted niceties like Fantome and Skullsplitter scattered among the SoCal bargains. And if there was a discernable logic to the stocking, we’re not sure we cracked the equation. The result: rather than shuffling through anally categorized styles you find yourself caught off guard by what’s next in line. It’s all about the thrill of the hunt at Ramirez: like picking punk rock compact discs from off your high school buddies’ bedroom floor.
The fun spills into a fridge we seldom venture into: the large smattering of 40 oz bottles. That’s because alongside Mickeys Wide-mouth and Old English sits respectable Rogue bombers like Double Dead Guy ale and their Dad’s Little Helper, a craft-brew take on malt liquor. The notion of neighborhood bros nursing a Juniper pilsner ale instead of a Pacifico reminded us of the beginning of our beer dorkdom, subbing Shakespear Stout for Steinlager.
As it turns out, the place does cater quite a bit to bike business too. Alex, the beer monger, said small, rowdy packs of fixed-gear cyclists usually show up on weekday night to stock up on brown-bagged treats and drink ’em on the streets. Good to hear. We think we’ll stop by more often.
Ramirez Liquor is the first stop on our upcoming LA Grand Crew ’08.
Staff: Alex (pictured above) rules the roost.
Refrigeration: All of it except overflow and 3-liter specials.
Split Six Packs: No.
Belgians: Most of the traditionals but not the obscure stuff.
Microbrews: California is well-represented, hopped-up bombers aplenty.
Special Powers: Surprising surplus of German brews and herbed/pine needled Scotch ales.
Achilles’ Heel: Real Lambics and Geuze are noticeably absent.
Location: Here.