Recently in The Great L.A. Beer Run Category
Here it is: the design of our demise. Don't be intimidated. This ride is going to be an awesome way to waste the day, and then get wasted.
Due to a few blog blitzkriegs that have been pushing our RSVP numbers nearer to 30 riders, we decided to post a few recommendations, assurances and perfunctory legal brush-offs.
Things We Recommend
1. Don't get hammered on Friday night.
2. Bring water, and drink like a fish throughout the day.
3. Bring some snacks that are high in protein and or carbs: nuts, energy bars, etc.
4. Sunscreen. We don't want you guys looking like meat on Sunday.
5. Bring something to carry your beer booty in.
6. Lube your chain, pump your tires, bring a spare tube if you have it. We will have tools, tubes and lubes, but it can't hurt to bring your own. (Especially if we have a gang of 30.)
Assurances
1. There will be a half dozen or more riders in our company that have loads of experience biking in the streets of L.A., riding long distances, and dealing with large numbers of bikers.
2. We will take breaks.
3. There will be at least one point in the ride where a car will meet up with us to unload and chill as much beer as you want to take off your back.
4. The day before the ride we will post an amended map, with a few "escape routes." If you don't want to join us for the last legs of the ride, then we'll post directions to some metro stops for you.
5. This will be rad. We assure you.
Obligatory Statements
1. This is not a booze cruise. Obviously the express purpose is to gather an insane amount of beers, but if you are planning on chugging beers midday and riding over 40 miles, well...you are insane.
2. Please know your limits as a biker, and a human being. If you start to feel particularly exhausted, don't bottle it up until you pass out in front of a bus.
3. While it is perfectly legal for us to occupy entire lanes of traffic, we will obey street signs, traffic lights etc. If you defy the law, you might get a ticket--draining your beer cash reserve. Bummer.
4. "We will not be held resposnisble for personal injury or death." But we will help you if you get hurt etc.
Most Important of All
1. Consult each destinatino point on the map and review each store's beer selection footnotes. Communicate with the ridersbuying beer around you, so we don't end up with 100 IPAs.
2. The Goal of the ride (other than the party afterword) is to bring readers into our reality, by showing you our favorite places to buy beer, via the streets of the city we love. If you want to burn ahead of the group, feel free, but this isn't a Wolf Pack ride in the daytime. Half the awesomeness of this event hinges on unity. Get into it.
Our sixth shout-out in a series of shout-outs to standout beer collections in the city of Los Angeles. And next stop on the Great L.A. Beer Run, slated to take place sometime in the next couple weeks.
If you’re not familiar with Glendale, CA, some quick context is in order: Home to the largest Armenian population outside of Armenia, Glendale is its own city just outside Northeast L.A. before North Hollywood, nestled next to the mountains of the Angeles National Forest. It sticks out with its mini Financial District high-rises and hillside villas. It’s all about mall shopping, pimping seriously expensive styles and aggressive SUV driving. It’s not generally a place we would subject ourselves to (unless we’re under the influence on a Whole Foods shopping spree or fiending for a veggie sub from Mario’s).
But when we first caught wind, about a year ago, of this liquor and cigar store in Glendale that had a fridge-only, collector’s selection of upscale beers, we grabbed our plastic and our Gucci beer bags and hit Glenoaks Blvd.
Always the ghetto car in a modest parking lot of beamers and convertibles, we feel a little out of our element walking through the automatic sliding doors of Red Carpet Wine. The predominant feel about the place is a strong snooty wine vibe — harsh at times, depending on how many tan George Hamilton-looking fuckers are sipping bordeauxs in boat shoes — but the staff is generally congenial and you’ll get a “hello” as you pass the register.
About 70 percent of the long rectangular store is comprised of wine shelves, mazes of pricey Napa and French labels (meant to be immediately stuck in a cellar). The far side of the store is a long library of liquors, including an intimidating selection of whiskeys that we haven’t even been able to brave much because of prices (like amazing 30-year-old, small batch scotches from distilleries that no longer exist).
And there, past the long wine-tasting booth, sits an L-shaped fridge section, usually devoid of many customers because clearly they do more business in wine and liquor. Of all the beer places we’ve charted so far, Red Carpet probably offers the least amount of space (7-11 excluded). There are 2 fridges for Belgians, 1 for English, 1 for German, a small row or two of Scottish brews and the obligatory 2 for American microbrews. Further toward the back there are a number of mainstream crap beers, can’t tell you how many but too many. Around the L-shaped corner, in fact the most prominent area of the beer section is a shameless display for the high-end Budweiser magnum bottles, the Sam Adamses of the world etc. Almost nothing comes in 6-packs.
But in between this blasé beer fodder — that clearly sells among wine aficionados who probably grab Heineken Dark for their football parties, thinking they got the good shit — is a boutique-sized smattering of great bottles. The Belgians are well represented here, they have both important standards like all of Le Choufe’s offerings and harder-to-find specials like clay-pot mustard jar-looking farmhouse Belgians. What’s more, you can grab most of the 750ml Belgian bottles for a steal, $8.99 in many cases.
The American shelf is well proportioned too, with strong showings from Alesmith, Moylan’s, the Lost Abbey series and Victory. This was easily the first beer store in L.A. that carried the much-respected Port Brewing beers, including Old Viscosity. When the brewers’ came up for a tasting party they just left a case of beer, or so one clerk claimed.
Not much for English ales, we keep meaning to pay more attention to the British — including the Scottish varieties — beers, of which there are many.
On more than one trip here, we’ve gotten in the way of a particularly laid-back, Hawain-shirt-wearing employee as he’s carrying bottles to the back. He always comes back to talk shop and offer recommendations as needed. Coincidentally, the big guys’ name is HK, which we took as some kind of sign. On our last visit, he revealed himself as a true beer dudes’ beer dude by recommending we go to a competitor’s store sometime to check out their walk-in beer cellars.
As for the other staff, the vibe is heavy on the professional connoisseur vibe. They can be curt, but it’s only fitting. Our only gripe: Our buddy Mike Meanstreatz, not known for wearing dockers, no longer will go with us because they gave him shit for his scruffy look. Not cool guys.
Staff: These people live and breath beverages, that and cigar smoke, but definitely pay more attention to grapes.
Refrigeration: All of it.
Split Six Packs: Nope, but hardly any six-packs.
Belgians: There could be more, but what they do carry is better than average.
Microbrews: Standard American micros with a West Coast leaning.
Special Powers: Only the sleekest, the cream of the crop, in most categories. Heavy farmhouse styles.
Achilles' Heel: Not much variation, few seasonal surprises.
Location: Here.
By Guest Knife Mike Meanstreetz
This beer poem is the fourth installment of our on-going love letter to the best booze aisles in L.A. With the extended Hot Knives crew still recovering from a mad dash up to Portland this weekend we, this one is brought to you by Hot Knives’ friend and beer afficio-nah-do Mike Meanstreetz.
A jump without compass but for sun and mounting breeze, the pedal west to Santa Monica's Wine House was firsted along side my Korea Town roomy back before shipping off to the beer tariffed wastes of Australia. In those days we were quick convinced of a spinning magnetism between preoccupations of bicycles and ale, and sweaty brows furled above whet tongues in ponder of barley, yeast and hops ceaseless poetry. Bus strikes and a broken Volvo opened new trade routes in hawk-eyed cross city commutes.
A rare hair more trouble it was in finding new brews then, and thoroughly sought was every little shop and sip, braking for culturally suspect neighborhood markets all ways to and from, and on Sundays squinting pay phone cabled Beverly Hills directories vigil of opening hour. It was off the malty bearded breath of my roommate's fatherly co-worker freshly persuaded of a larger world than red and white, that we were cued to a locale he'd previously frequented in pursuit of the latter. To his rediscovery he found new favorites Schneider & Sohn's Aventinus Eisbock and the Belgian Gulden Draak well nestled amongst a myriad of other lands capped in sixes, bombers, half liters, 11.2s and 750s. The word was passed and to us it was a glorious tale, and with our mission lain before us we soon ten-sped west through the neighborhoods 'tweenst the crosses of Olympic and Normandie, and Pico and Sepulveda.
On side street Cotner, cornering a 405 freeway entrance, the Wine House sits as broad as a supermarket, but upon entry is unassuming and welcome as the smell of cork, an ambiance befitting a booze shop well kept beneath a seemingly starred gourmet restaurant and tasting bar above. The glimmer of uncountable bottles prod a wander past front registers never kept shy of a smile or recognizing glance. An excitement in their stock since my first visit has yet to lull, for as new beers are brewed, the seasons change there too, spicing a familiar consonance to every visit. Glass glass glass 200 feet down the House's right a beer selection fortifies wee more than the two sides of a large aisle, and adjacent sits a cooler holding a rotating sampling taken from the aisle face's devotion to American micro brewing in 12 oz form. Nobly priced is a wince-free break of this region's 6's, its comparable prides represented in plenty and variety from each brewery. I've taken home North Coast's Old Stock Ale in three vintages side by side for the same price, markedly the lowest aound.
Also represented are wider lines from breweries hailing states if not entirely overlooked, then carried likely in limit. Here compatriots Deschuetes, He'Brew and Philly's Victory, with steady stock of their San Diego-like strong ales, and freshly hopped pils, with their more festive 750s shelved the other side of the aisle with others clustered a taller luster.
This section specifically populated bombers, Belgians and half liters, for me leaves the 6 pack an afterthought. The first time and place I had ever seen Pizza Port's brews sold north of my familial visits to Carlsbad, CA, I was quick struck by a lack of adequate bag capacity. Surely they not only carried standard 6's of coppery Shark Bite, 22's of the the more quaff-able than surf-able Wipe Out I.P.A., and the too-old too-young timeless too-bad of darkie Old Viscosity, but still in times good or worse the stock steadies three Belgian inspired 750's corked comfy a length of shelf up a tier, sitting next to the domestic exoticisms of Jolly Pumpkins, Allagashes, the foiled eschelon of Anvil, and all that our neighbors Unibrou have Zymurgically had to say. In the shade of the four or so rows beneath there lie the 22'd likes of Californians Moylan's, Lagunitas and Reaper, whose Sunday company so close to the beach decidedly ignores all suggestion of pause between holiday.
For seasonal big beers this is a heaven and safe haven as seemingly untappable as I have looted unquenchable. No slight at such brief mention of their unimpeachable vocabulary for the habitual recipes of breweries like Stone, but in the fore is the constant arrival of new seasonals as they come, with the Vertical Epic being their only gargyled offering priced more than four dollars, with the rest often dollars less than the going rate of the many other stops to end my day. It may be due to grapes' higher gravity in a stronghold so named that beers can be slow to move, signs more than fairly warning "last til next year!" These restless cases often enough are on sale next to classics already within elbow's reach. Multiple trippels, barley wines and double I.P.A.s may ask a moment of you in discerning which armful to compare. This seasonal sensibility carries over into the hearty effervescence of the Belgian lot with an unabashed attention to the more creative recipes of Le Choufe's innovative double I.P.A., the latelies of La Fantome and the Mad Brewer, and a fullness of all else you may so be regionally inclined to, with proper lean toward Trappists like Rochefort, Westmalle, and their cloistered kin. No shortage of the darker aled likes of Kwak and St. Bernadus, saisons like Moinnete, the Flemish sour and a singularly generous attention lambics.
Of differing nationality yet crafted in similar mastery are a Southernly handful of Italy's brews, to whose acquaintance I owe a befriended Wine Houser's discerning and generosity. During my Sunday visits I have often lingered for a talkative lunch break, and although never having eaten at the upstairs restaurant I've shared a snack of painfully procured crystal salts and an affordably unhurried press of oil over my first and last impression of the only radishes I'd dare brag about. A true witness to off the shelf black bean dip silty cousined of the hickory smoked, thoughtfully grained crackers, and cheeses to boot. As an address to worriers, there is still some German beer left, although invisible like minds and I have drank much of it and still suffer no restock.
Staff: I've missed you too.
Refrigeration: Yeah, but scratch that. They got a chilling chamber working down to the fifth minute!
Split Six Packs: A few shelves donated to the orphaned with their own price stickers to boot.
Belgians: Read the labels and learn the states and their capitols.
Microbrews: Almost, exclusively.
Special Powers: See 'chilling chamber' above
Achilles Heel: Traffic, for some.
Location: Here.
Number three in an ongoing roll call of L.A.'s best beer buying bodegas. This, for the record, was our first home away from home: our first beer store in California.
On York and Ave. 57 there is a modest Mecca where over 450 types of beer have a regularly stocked home. Inside, past 500 different types of soda pop and tonics, past a now defunct set of produce bins filled with retro candies, there are is a long row of shelves brimming with brew from every conceivable country of origin. Mexican craft beer, authentic German Rauchbeir, and a daunting array of 750's from Belgium stand as a quieting gauntlet to the would-be-buyer. Shoppers slowly step down the aisles, silent in thought, contemplating their inevitable purchase... purchases.
Galco’s Soda Pop Shop has an arresting amount of beer. The specialty grocer is L.A.’s oldest and has been heralded all over the country as the place to buy specialty pop. We've known it as a soda oasis for the seven years we’ve been Angelenos. These are the floors where we've spent hundreds of dollars, discovering some of our favorite beers.
We've even made friends in the beer aisles of Galco's. In 2002, Alex was lugging a shopping basket full of high ABV bombers when he ran into this guy. Mike Meanstreetz and Mr. Brown babbled about beer for fifteen minutes and parted ways - only to meet up again at Evan's house a month later. (Look out for Meanstreetz's write up of Wine House in Culver City in the next two weeks.)
Recently we paid Galco's a visit to pick the owner's brain about L.A. and suds. John Nese has been in love with carbonated beverages since childhood when he used to daydream about piping soda pop into his elementary school's drinking fountains.
Galco's has been around for over 100 years, but the move towards strict soda and beer sales has been policy for about 11. John saw large soda and beer companies completely dominating the shelves and robbing customers of the variety of choices he remembers as a child. “40 years ago, if you walked into a grocery store and they didn’t have 30 to 40 different kinds of soda; you’d walk out the door and shop somewhere else.” So he stopped selling Coke and Pepsi, and started buying direct from a litany of pop producers. Then he did the same thing with beer.
Talking with John led to some simple but astounding realizations: namely that store owners from Albertsons franchisers to Whole foods specialty reps have visited his store to take notes and pick his brain about how to stock their shelves. “They all ask the same thing,” he says with a knowing grin, “what are your top sellers?” Not surprisingly, John told us that essentially all of our familiar beer venders have been to his store seeking education. He never refuses advice, but he believes in Choice (note the capitalization), and offers the same answer to the ubiquitous top ten quandary: "Whichever ten you decide to sell."
According to John, the reason why L.A. isn’t a serious beer city is simply because “nobody has made it that way.” With the constraints that even the most forward thinking of beer store owners face, in terms of shelf real estate and the risky turnover of high priced specialty beers, its no surprise.
Stocking awesome beers can be stressful for a small business owner, unless it's all you sell. John's pretty relaxed. While beer might play second chair to soda in his store, you will find dozens of beers that you have never had and want. Each beer is priced by the each, which will be a little more expensive than some stores (probably because they price their bottles after visiting Galco's), but you can taste more each time you visit. If you make this store a regular stop when you forage for drink, the small selections at most other stores might make you want to walk out.
Staff: John knows his stock.
Refrigeration: Very limited in relation to the size of the inventory. No cold bombers might bum you out.
Split Six Packs: Absolutely. This dude invented it.
Belgians: Might be the best in the city.
Microbrews: Huge selection, but not super streamlined. Good source for seasonal releases.
Special Powers: Choice.
Achilles’ Heel: Equality: Not all of the 450 are really worth buying.
This is the next installment in an on-going series highlighting some of the best, and brightest, beer fridges in Los Angeles. Beer heads muttering “7-11…WTF Hot Knives?” please read on!
We’ve always known there was something strange about the 7-11 at Figueroa Street and Avenue 52 in the L.A. neighborhood of Highland Park. For one thing, there’s always extremely loud satellite radio being cranked from the stereo’s surround sound system. The loud music at all hours has earned it a moniker in the area as “The Rock ‘n’ Roll 7-11.” Rumor was, the owner just liked his classic rock playing whether he was there or not.
Well, in the last 2 months a much more promising abnormality has surfaced at this store — one that is starting to earn it another nickname and hopefully some regional fame. Our 7-11 is now a microbrew 7-11. We say “ours” because it lies both conveniently close to Evan’s casa and halfway on Alex’s bike commute from home to work. Needless to say, we’ve contributed a bit of business to the slowly growing beer section (about 100 bottles), but we honestly can’t take any credit for the trend. At all.
Charles is not your average 7-11 owner/manager. He’s a middle-aged, suave dude who wears all black all the time and routinely joins his employees behind the counter. His wife (we presume) often peruses the store stocking various aisles while burping their (we presume) small baby in a chest snuggle pack. This, set to an uncomfortably loud chorus of “Crimson and Clover,” you have to understand, is a sweet David Lynch shopping experience.
The shock comes in the beer locker. One side of the store is occupied by your average 7-11 fridges: energy drinks, Gatorade, bottled water and sparkling water, sodas followed by a trusty grouping of mediocre domestic and Mexican beers. The last rack has a couple flavors of Sparks. But look on the adjacent wall, between the large wine racks and the Hagen Daz ice cream sits two unpretentious but impeccable beer compartments.
The top shelf is entirely Belgians, including the regional hits (Russian River’s Damnation) and the domestic superstars (Three Philosophers) and the ubiquitous international celebrities (Delerium, all Chimays). This alone is unheard of even for most convenient liquor stores, let alone 7-11 chains, but Charles takes it a step further and offers specialty international bottles of St. Bernardus and Uni 15. He told me once that he wants to specialize in Belgians. He also sells proper Belgian glasses, which are prominently displayed next to the gum and the cigarettes.
The rest of his beer runs the gamut. Only a smattering of six packs, the vast majority is bombers. The six packs he does carry include Stone IPA, Downtown Brown, Indica IPA and Alaskan Amber. In bombers there’s always Alesmith Anvil Ale, Arrogant Bastard and Ruination Ale representing the San Diego scene. An extensive, even overboard, Rogue selection includes Shakespeare Stout, Dead Guy, Hazelnut Brown Ale and at least three others. Both Lagunitas and Anderson Valley are featured, but not the staples you’d expect.
According to Charles, his is the only store of the 40,000 American franchises that have included an extensive list of microbrews and he had to fight the chain of command to do so. Now, he’s proving them wrong with booming beer sales. Last time we spoke, Charles talked about abolishing all six packs in favor of bombers; starting a beer website and hand-producing a 50-foot sign for the side of his store with all of the microbrew logos on it. Thank heavens indeed. Watch this guy, he’s the future of convenient store beer. In fact, drive to our hood and buy from him. Or write and ask for your own microbrew 7-11.
Staff: Charles knows his stuff. And more than one of his seemingly underage staff has chimed in with opinions on rare Belgians.
Refrigeration: Everything.
Split Six Packs: Nope, but not many six packs at that.
Belgians: Proportionally a very strong showing, a little of everything, most geographies represented and some rare ones.
Microbrews: The place will always sell Natty Light, it’s a 7-11, but their microbrew section is as large as the domestic shelf.
Special Powers: Limited editions of regional breweries, Belgians, rotating specials.
Achilles’ Heel: Too much space dedicated to the typical Rogue fare.
Location: Here.
This post is the first in an on-going series we’ll be doing on some of our favorite beermongers in the L.A. area. These stores include everything from a 100-year-old mom and pop grocer to a high-end wine and spirit purveyor and even a diamond-in-the-rough 7-11. They service distant zip codes (that we plan on exploring by bicycle on our up-coming Great L.A. Beer Run 2007) but they all share a dedication to beer kulture.
Cap’n Cork has been a regular beer haunt of ours going on three years. They have a huge selection of beer ranging from the more than mundane to the rarely seen in L.A. When Alex was stupid drunk at the Moylans bar/brewery in Novato last summer, he demanded a talk with the manager who could tell him when the Hopsickle would be back in L.A. They had no idea that anyone was selling it so far south. We had discovered it at Cap’n Cork for a ridiculously cheap $4.99.
There are two walls of reachin refrigerators in this edifice of hooch. Not a single beer is uncooled, which is not the norm for stores with this many beers. The selection ranges from domestic favorites like Moylans, Stone and Avery, to immaculate Belgians like Brasserie De Rocs and Trappists Rochforts. You will find something you like here (we can’t leave without at least four bombers in tow).
While this place boasts a great number of brews that we love, they are not without flaw. All the glory of the aforementioned array of fridges is contained in three of about twelve cabinets. The rest are filled with industry regulars like Corona and Tecate, which any liquor store is obligated to carry. What’s disappointing is the amount of space dedicated to really boring English, German, and American Microbrews. None of these beers suck, they just aren’t very noteworthy, and it rarely seems like they move from their shelves. If this place revitalized their offering and sold individual 12 oz. bottles? We’d have to shop here with chaperones.
Staff: Awesome. Mike (pictured above) isn’t the beer geek that he could be, but he’s always super nice and when you buy something he thinks rules (Rogue Imperial IPA) he’ll let you know.
Refrigeration: Yes. Everything.
Split Six Packs: Yes, but only for small Belgians.
Belgians: Good mix of American styles and old world bombers.
Microbrews: Small selection for a place this size, but all the heavy hitters are here.
Special Powers: All the Alesmiths, all the time. Hopsickle: when available. Munchies.
Achilles’ Heel: Too much space dedicated to uninteresting beer. This place would be unparalleled if they redesigned their stocking practices.
Location: Here.