There’s a bug going around that you should know about.
It turns things into enormous, elaborately appointed beer halls.
And don’t look now, but—this place got bit real bad...
It’s Flatiron Hall, and it’s a spectacular two-story beer temple from the Houston Hall folks. You’ll want to head there for the following reasons:
Post-work beers.
The bar itself: mahogany and lined with unmarked taps. The walls: adorned with faded paintings. The chandeliers: all halo-y. What you’re drinking: their Greenpoint-brewed house beers, including a heat-busting orange blossom brew and a 12% ABV caramel-and-toffee-tinged monster called the Quad Bock.
More post-work beers... but with food.
All that beer will do a number on your appetite. So move back to one of the four-tops beyond the bar, sit like a civilized type and summon forth bacon-and-chicken mac and Reuben spring rolls.
Hiding out from the oppressive humidity.
We admit, we’ve been holding out on you. See, this place has a gigantic brick-walled beer cellar. With a bar made of beer barrels. And row upon row of darkened communal tables, the likes of which are just screaming for some kind of suds-soaked, bearded-baritone, stein-clanking sing-along.
Think of it as German karaoke.
It turns things into enormous, elaborately appointed beer halls.
And don’t look now, but—this place got bit real bad...
It’s Flatiron Hall, and it’s a spectacular two-story beer temple from the Houston Hall folks. You’ll want to head there for the following reasons:
Post-work beers.
The bar itself: mahogany and lined with unmarked taps. The walls: adorned with faded paintings. The chandeliers: all halo-y. What you’re drinking: their Greenpoint-brewed house beers, including a heat-busting orange blossom brew and a 12% ABV caramel-and-toffee-tinged monster called the Quad Bock.
More post-work beers... but with food.
All that beer will do a number on your appetite. So move back to one of the four-tops beyond the bar, sit like a civilized type and summon forth bacon-and-chicken mac and Reuben spring rolls.
Hiding out from the oppressive humidity.
We admit, we’ve been holding out on you. See, this place has a gigantic brick-walled beer cellar. With a bar made of beer barrels. And row upon row of darkened communal tables, the likes of which are just screaming for some kind of suds-soaked, bearded-baritone, stein-clanking sing-along.
Think of it as German karaoke.
