Yes, a bit of Dylan, from before he went weird/wired.
“Grabbed hold of a subway car
And after a rocking, reeling, rolling ride
I landed up on the downtown side
From the Staten ferry I walked to Greenwich Village via Tribeca, an area that accounts for 62% of total New York coffee consumption.
The walk took in the awesome,
and the chilling.
“Go to the Blind Tiger” said someone whose name is probably an anagram of “Non League Moth“.
So I did.
This is near the street where Mr Zimmerman made his inappropriate clothing choices back in the winter of ’63 on the shoot for his second album.
Bob’s views on craft beer aren’t well known but I like this quote.
I wasn’t expecting the Blind Tiger (97 on RateBeer) to be that busy, but at 15:25 on a Monday it was packed.
To be honest, it doesn’t take much to be packed in New York; bars are generally tiny.
So I sat at the bar, between a couple and a hipster.
“Ooh, look just like Port St Beer House” I thought, lazily. But it sort of does.
A bit darker, a bit more lived-in, but the same demographic, all drinking graprefruit murk. And why shouldn’t they ?
Anyway, I had the lone cask beer. Newburgh Plan B Boss Farmhouse IPA. You try saying that after four pints of Duclaw Haze of Passion.
It was warm and indistinct. If the Blind Tiger was on WhatPub I’d have scored it NBSS 1.5. As it is, lesson learned. Cask and 31 degrees don’t mix.
But the Duclaw was good. And the local hipster had something dark and treacly.
I asked him what it was.
“Firestone Walker Imperial Stout” he replied, in such perfect English that he could only have been a Norwegian IT consultant on an assignment in New York. And he was.
“Firestone Walker ? I thought they were Big Beer” I said, feigning beer intelligence.
“They are, but even big breweries can sometimes make great beer“. Oh.
And so they can. It was magic. So good I couldn’t even force down a Bass in the Slaughtered Lamb.