“I just put that on tap,” I’m told when I order the Stone Arrogant Red Aleca. I have no idea what I’m in for, I just read the sign on the chalkboard.
“Tell me what you think,” the barkeep says so I do: It’s maltier than I’d expect but the finish is quite bitter, like an IPA. If the nose had any kind of hop presence I’d say it WAS an IPA.
“They call it Arrogant Bastard,” he says, “and it came recommended.”
I bet it did. But…why was this beer mislabeled?
Well, so much for trying something new. I’m complaining but I’m not exactly dissatisfied.
The signs behind the bar let patrons know they can get wine growlers. I have to admit, I would never expect someone to want a growler of wine. Bottles usually are enough, right? Still, I don’t judge.
It’s so quiet and low key in here, I can see myself coming here to have a soft discussion about violent things. It feels private, even if the space is wholly open.