Because of my ample Jewish schnoz, I feel a tight kinship with those truffle-sniffing pigs. We both utilize our sniffing talent to root out deliciousness lurking where few look.
Like say, a former drag-queen diner reconceived as a good-beer bar with killer grub bargains. When Hop Devil Grill arrived in the old Stingy Lulu’s space near Tompkins Square Park a couple years ago, brew lovers shouted, “Hallelujah!” The owners of the Upper East Side’s David Copperfield’s were replicating their tasty-suds-and-plebian-grub formula.
If only it was that simple. Problem is, this Alphabet City endeavor is a bit bipolar: The main, sprawling room, loaded beer signage and butt-friendly cherrywood booths, is a dead ringer for a suburban chain eatery. The bright, wrinkle-highlighting lights negate beer’s sexy-making ability.
Cross the hallway to the Belgium Room annex, however, and you’ll discover a brew paradise as dark and decadent as Amsterdam’s Red Light District. The Belgian Room offers oodles of Chimay Blue and Lindeman’s Framboise goodness, as well as five fine drafts. One night, a booth contains a kissy, tattooed Japanese couple, who alternate sips of Bell’s smoky, strong $8 Hell Hath No Fury dark ale and smooches.
Still, for every amorous pair there are 10 serious-minded (and serious-stomached) barflies who patronize Hop Devil Grill for its stupendous draft selection. Expect the usual Brooklyn Brewery suspects alongside East Coast rarities like Great Divide’s stout, chocolate-y Oak-Aged Yeti, Russian River’s insanely-hoppy Pliny the Elder and at least one cask ale—a hand-pulled unfiltered, live-yeast potables. For each, you’ll pay about $5 or $6 per glass (burlier tipples are served in smaller cups). Costly? Cost-effective.
Whereas you need three Buds for a buzz, a single glass of Southampton Imperial Russian Stout—and its wine-like 10 percent alcohol content—stews you nicely. And buyers will never beware: Ask sweetly, and the surprisingly fetching barmaids will provide a taste. Better yet, three select drafts are $3 until 7 p.m. nightly.
The skinflinting doesn’t stop there. Quarter-chicken-wing Monday nights are good for penny-pinching hunger-killing, though I prefer Taco Tuesdays. Until close, unlimited beef, chicken or veggie tacos, hard or soft, are $1. They’re hardly archetypal (where’s the carnitas and chorizo?), but they are brimming with cheese and well-suited for a hot-sauce dousing.
“More tacos, more hot sauce,” a friend says one evening, scarfing his third $1 deal. Three will appease the average eater; four or more will cause dollar-menu gluttony. Remember: cheapness doesn’t entitle you to overindulge.
Except with beer. That’s the simple, deadly thrill of Kill-a-Keg Wednesdays: a keg of beer is tapped, and pints cost $3 until the vessel’s empty. Then another fluky keg is selected.
“It’s like they’re asking me to kill myself,” says my roommate one night, after crossing the five-beer threshold. “There’s no way I’d be drinking like this if the beer was $6.” Therein lies Hop Devil’s rub. It’s a destination during deal time. And the periodic shindigs, like January’s Daze of the Devil Strong Ale Festival.
Otherwise, meh. If you’re nearby, Hop’s sweet for one, maybe two palate-pleasuring pints. They’ll be properly poured, and you’ll find an open seat. But for non-neighborhood drink-seekers, the bait of hop-injected, bourbon-cask-aged beer, like the gimmicky, bygone drag queens, may not be that attractive.
Hop Devil Grill
129 St. Marks Pl (at Ave. A)
212-533-4468
