Bachelor Party on the Brew Bus

I have learned there are three responsibilities of the best man. One - take care of the bride’s ring at the ceremony. Two - deliver a comical yet tear jerking speech at the wedding reception. Third – throw a bachelor party full of boozing and debauchery akin to what every New Orleans Catholic does on Marti Gras before they begin to repent. Being the best man for my brother Ryan, I had decided that our gathering of lads for an elaborate steakhouse dinner with drinking and gambling last year wasn’t enough for the good man that I am sure no one can say a bad thing about. Having been close with my brothers Ryan and Eric since we were children, I knew the usual tour of strip clubs for bachelor parties seemed skeevy and amateurish. Now that didn’t mean any one of us would occasionally glance at a cute waitress during our drinking tour, which of course we naturally did. 

In the past year Ryan has forayed into the world of home brewing. At first the brews needed work as with any first attempt. Being persistent at things we Titus boys love to experiment with (me with this blog) Ryan continued to brew, improving with every batch. A particular cider he made came out so crisp, the right match of dry and honey sweetness. Nick and I figured that Ryan would love going on what we heard was a tour of local micro-breweries by the Chicago Brew Bus. After much planning, the co-owner and tour guide, Kevin, began our journey at Chicago’s most famous brew, Goose Island.

Goose Island

Founded in 1988, Goose Island has fashioned many brews with three Chicago locations for Midwestern distribution. Kevin was sharp enough to include us onto a tour of the tiny facilities at the Clybourn location. With about thirty other people, the seven of us bachelor lads went past a steel door that looked like an entrance to a fall-out shelter. Encased in brick walls up to ten feet and then glass windows for the other fifteen the brewing room was damp, filled with stainless steel drums that contained the multiple processes of beer. To our right, against the wall, nine wooden bourbon kegs each fermented a particular type of beer and a few wines the brewers were trying out. The tour guide was fine, nothing special. Nick thought his face and eyes were so saggy and stricken from dehydration, likely from constant drinking, that he looked like Droopy Dog. 

In a long, narrow banquet hall the beers had been sitting for close to twenty minutes in tasting stations. Any liquor drinker knows that the sweet, sweet alcohol you crave is not great after been poured and left to sit, warming up with the temperature of the room. Bad form, Goose Island, bad form. From left to right we tasted six beers, each quite different from each other. Since we were part of a tour, we seven guys could only find spots where they were available. Eric sat to my left, Kyle to my right, a weirdo looking guy and his friendly hipster sister across from us. We agreed that we most enjoyed the blonde ale, which could be a dangerous beer with its higher than usual alcohol content and flavor. One would mistake this as a beer you could keep drinking with little effects to your blood alcohol level when in fact it’s a killer in the long run. Thankfully as a souvenir Goose Island gave us pint glasses with a modified Chicago flag on the pint. All us guys giving each other a glance, we left the tour early and stepped on the Brew Bus.

The Brew Bus, with their requisite slogan, “We drive you to drink” was a converted short bus into a party wagon. As our driver meandered through the pot hole stricken side streets of Chicago, Kevin enlightened us with a little Chicago brewing history. He also cleverly screwed with us by tossing a full zip-lock bag of green herbs in our direction, yelling “who wants to start this party!” Nick and few of us guys all looked at each other in surprise at the full bag of what we thought was weed, only to discover in fact it was part one of the brew history – malted hops. Oh, Kevin you cheeky muthafucka! 

One location nearby Goose Island Clybourn had a giant P with a hand grabbing the letter at a corner of the building that had been sadly converted into a World Market. That building in the late 1800’s was the birthplace of cheap, working class style lagers. When the recipe was sold decades later, it became what we know as Miller Light. 

To add to our disappointment, we found that Goose Island is not in fact a micro-brewery but a subsidiary of Anheuser-Busch, likely the largest beer company in the United States and certainly the dual gold medalist of shite in a can with douche attitudes and leadership. Ryan, Nick and I have affection for the finely crafted micro-brews or even the small market breweries like Sam Adams, who are less about mass production and more about quality. Busch controls over 50% of the United States market alone. Sam Adams, likely the largest small market brewer, controls a little over 1% of the market. Take the extra time, pay the extra dollar and enjoy a good beer that won’t leave you hugging the toilet later for numerous reasons. My personal favorite small market brewers or micro-brewers are Sam Adams, Leinenkugels, Two Brothers (Warrenville, Illinois), and Great Lakes Brewery (Cleveland). 

Haymarket Brewery

Our second stop on the brew tour has to be one of the hidden gems of Chicago. Located on 737 West Randolph Street, in the Mecca of the mind-blowing wave of quality, inventive west loop restaurants, Haymarket deserves an A in every category. The owner was there to greet us at the door, a half-finished pint in one hand, his other hand running his fingers through his long and thinning strawberry Viking hair tied back to rest on his flannel button-down. A set of high-top tables set aside for us, we took Kevin’s advice and ordered some grub to soak up the booze. Nick and I tore into a refreshingly different thin-crust pizza with bakery made dough, Italian sausage, a light drizzle of BBQ sauce and the kicker – a delicate topping of house made giardinara for some spice on top. Below you can see a happy Nick enjoying a slice. I had a sliver of Ryan’s burger that was so flavorful I noticed three distinct herb and salt flavors on top of the evenly cooked meat. Eric’s bratwurst, complete with sauerkraut on top of pretzel roll was divine, impressing even my usual picky brother. 

The beer was everything we hoped it could have been, considering how awed we were by the beautiful wood décor and out-of-this-world bar food. We had five, four ounce tastings, each one brought out in five minute intervals. The last two, a Mathias Imperial IPA and the Templeton Whiskey aged Imperial Stout, were by far the best. The Mathias, as the owner explained, contained rich citrus hops, which explained the crisp orange color and flavor similar to that of hints of grapefruit and orange mixed together. The Imperial Stout was one of the best beers I likely ever had, each sip bringing back those delightful flavors of chocolate and vanilla. 

After a brief tour of their facilities, which to us was more informative and personal with our small group, we examined the back room. Nick and I were the only non-game geeks to not be playing the four-man Pac Man council that the rest of the guys did. In-between more good rounds of beer and laughing our asses off, we got back on the bus. Eric summed up the last beer at Haymarket the best – “The high alcohol in the beer was tough, but it was so sweet. It felt like someone was punching me in the mouth and their fist was layered with honey.”

Moonshine

The last stop on the brew bus was at 1824 West Division in Wicker Park at Moonshine. I will save you a long review here by simply stating that this place was nothing special. We almost wished that the tour could have been fifteen dollars cheaper and skipped the less than spectacular beer samples at Moonshine. Some of the beer, one of them being a South Side Stout, tasted rancid and chalky. Most of us in the group didn’t get through half of the beers. The servers and owners weren’t prepared, nor did they seem to care in what is likely one of the most bohemian neighborhoods in the city.

Perhaps the food was welcoming, much like a Haymarket. Maybe I should have grabbed one of their classic mojitos. By that point, and the disappointment of the beer, the guys and I were eager to get back on the bus.

We returned back to Evanston after being dropped off at our cars that we left at Goose Island. A quick saunter into town with our heavy, alcohol stricken legs, and we spent some hours at Tommy Nevin’s in Evanston. I could tell I had fulfilled my best man duties for my modest brother as we played a competitive set of darts whilst clearing out the taste of beer with hard liquor and savory pub food. Turns out that I should give myself more credit – who wouldn’t love a brew and munchies tour?