Rattle n Hum, The Ginger Man, Blind Tiger

I had heard about these establishments before. The moment you take the plunge into the underbelly of the craft beer universe these places are brought up time and time again.

"You've never been to Rattle n Hum?", a generic beer geek would ask incredulously.

I hated telling them I hadn't. How could I possibly be taken seriously as a craft beer savant if I had never been to one of New York City's craft beer mecca's?

I had to go. And I did. This past Saturday. I took an entire day off from watching Pawn Stars and eating Fiddle Faddle to take the train into the city with Rob, Kevin, his girlfriend, and an assortment of friends.

We started off at Rattle n Hum which is located on East 33rd Street not far from the Garden (I'd

tell you the exact address but you're on a computer, look it up yourself). The waitress handed us the draft menu which was printed on a single white piece of paper. Seems archaic I know. But when you're a beer bar that has kegs being kicked, new beers coming in, old beers going out and taps being rotated on a constant basis, I'm surprised it wasn't printed on a cocktail napkin.

I'm a wimp to say the least. After being handed a draft list with a selection of over 40 draft beers, as well as a seemingly endless bottle list, I chickened out and ordered a Goose Island Matilda. A beer that I could get (although not on tap) anywhere. I don't know why I do it. Craft beer drinking is about trying anything and everything. Yet I go for old standbys constantly. "Ohhh, I've had Goose Island before! They were good. Yes, I've have it again please." Idiocy. I realized my mistake the moment the waitress plopped the drink down in front of me. At that point, I made the executive decision to do a flight of four beers.

Dogfish Head World Wide Stout
Bear Republic Mach 10

Dogfish Head Punkin Ale
Ballast Point Black Marlin Porter (Cask)

Yay! Variety! I'd go through each beer intricately, but I won't because I'm lazy. But I will tell you this, Punkin Ale is straight garbage. I'll admit I'm not the biggest fan of pumpkin ales in general, but this takes the cake in terms of its terribleness. Weak, too light-bodied, and overly carbonated. I'm glad I didn't order a pint of it.

I wish we stayed longer at Rattle. There was so much to do and to drink. But sadly, we had to move on. To another bar. A bar that essentially had the same beer. The Ginger Man, that is. Which is a stones' throw from Rattle. And that's not just an expression. I threw a stone from Rattle to Ginger Man and it reached on a fly. Clemente-esque.

The Ginger Man is one of those places where you can easily lose track of time. Similar to a casino in that aspect, but different from it in every other way. The lights are dim, the seating is supremely comfortable, and the beer is delicious. One drawback though (and this is pushing it), the font on the beer menu was too small (#whitewhine). But honestly, I needed to whip out my reading glasses to decipher which beer I was going to choose. And I don't even have reading glasses.

My first choice? Boon Kriek. Full disclosure: At the time, I had no idea what Boon Kriek was. The waitress stared intently at me after rounding up the rest of my groups' orders. I panicked. Instead of politely asking for more time, I whipped my head in the direction of the menu, made eye contact with the words Boon Kriek and blurted it out. I didn't even see how much it cost.

Now the ATM was staring daggers at me.

But it arrived, along with the rest of the drinks, in a tulip glass. Boon Kriek is a lambic. A fruit beer, if you will. At 5.00% ABV, it's weak on the alcohol, which was exactly what I needed at the time. I took a quick whiff and cherries immediately hit my nose. Pleasant, I remember. And the taste was as well. Nothing overtly fruity, but just enough to know you were tasting a well-brewed lambic. It was the only beer I had at The Ginger Man, and I'm glad it was. It left a good taste in my mouth.

"Off to Blind Tiger!", I yelled. At least in my head. Like Rattle and Ginger Man, Blind Tiger has the reputation for having great American craft beers as well as high-end imports.

We arrived. Crowded, just like Fodor's said. Buy my friend and I pushed our way to the front of the mass and got the attention of the bartender. Once again, I was frozen. Didn't know what to order. I clearly didn't think this through. But even if I had allocated more time to order, it probably would have made things worse. I would have fretted over dozens of potential choices and inevitably been overcome with confusion, resulting in me passing out on the Blind Tiger floor. But alas, I was given the "Hurry up" signal from the bartender. I glanced at the chalkboard menu above the bar and saw "NEBRASKA HOP GOD" about half way down. "Number 24", I rushed. Awesome. I've had a number of Nebraska Brewery beers in my short time as a beer drinker and have loved every one of them. But Hop God had evaded my grasp. But no more, this IPA was a mere pour away.

Delicious. Easily the best beer of the day for me. Pineapple, mango, pine, and even some peach coated my tongue. Finished dry and sweet and was gone far too quickly. I mulled over ordering another, but my good sense had got the best of me. I had enough craft beer for the day. It was onto the land of "LITE".

Where taste buds go to die.