Ah, California … land of milk and honey, fruits and nuts, Hollywood and Ahnold. Your humble and obedient narrator spent Memorial Day weekend 2014 in the Long Beach area, hosted by his surfin’ soccer star buddy the Brucemeister. The goal was to see the sights, drink the beer, eat the food and absorb the culture.
Arriving about noon on Friday at LAX, I met Bruce curbside. A quick dash down the 405 freeway got us to base camp (the maids quarters within Art and Margie’s family compound), a mere two blocks from the north Pacific. It was cloudy and in the 60’s, a beautiful day. Say hello to Cali the cat, dump off the bags and commence the assault!
First up was Taco Surf in Belmont Shore. Happy Hour began at 2:00 p.m. but our waiter Pepe could see we meant business, so he let us start at 1:51. The big special is street tacos – your choice of meat on 4-inch soft corn tortillas for a buck fifty each. The draft beer was dirt cheap, too. I washed down two pastor and two Baja fish tacos with a pint of Dos Equis Special Lager and two pints of Dos Equis Amber. After an hour and a half, a couple baskets of chips and salsa and lots of trash talkin’ it was time to move on.
Next stop was Mother’s in Sunset Beach. Bruce hadn’t been there since 1980 or so, when he was just old enough to legally drink. Apparently, it hasn’t changed a bit in the interim, except of course for the beer selection. This little shack had a seating capacity of about 30 – 15 or so at the U-shaped bar and the rest in four or five tables. You’ve been in a place like this, with donated dollar bills stapled to the rafters. Also up there were more brassieres than in Paul Holder’s front tree after a pool party! But I digress … Our barmaid was Alison, 6’ 2” of no-nonsense. We called her “Helga” and she called us both “Shorty”. You know the type – She says “COME HERE, BOY!” and you say “Yes, ma’am”. Over the course of an hour or two, we had a big bowl of peanuts, throwing the shells on the floor. I drained a 32-ounce mason jar of Stone IPA and had a sample of Karl Strauss Windansea Wheat, a damn good hefe.
With five pints already in the tank, the afternoon continued at Coach’s in Seal Beach. I washed down my delicious 3-piece cod fish and chips dinner with a pint of Stone IPA. The local sitting next to us, Erik, had been an ensign in the Navy. He was working on earning his wings at CCNAS when they terminated his training as Viet Nam was winding down.
Pint seven, a schooner of Carlsberg, was consumed at Joe Jost’s back in Long Beach. We watched a couple play pool, badly. I should talk – I’m a triple bogey golfer and I suck at billiards, but it is entertaining to watch people who are even worse than you. We got an unwelcome show every time the dude bent over to shoot. As Bruce put it “That guy’s got the highest plumber’s crack I’ve ever seen – it goes half way up his back!” We stumbled home to pass out, drink a lot of water and watch TV.
Amazingly, Saturday began WITHOUT a hangover. It was another cloudy day in the 60’s. We began with brunch at Roscoe’s Chicken and Biscuits – Snoop Dog, er, Snoop Lion’s place. I had the Stubby’s platter, a fried chicken breast and wing with grits, two eggs and a biscuit. Needing a jolt of caffeine, I opted for iced tea. Down the road, we hit Total Wine – think Liquid Town or Spec’s on steroids. I was in awe of the beer selection. I just wandered up and down the aisles for 20 minutes or so with my mouth open. Finally, Bruce resorted to threats and promises of free money and strippers out in the parking lot. I grabbed a big bottle of Lindeman’s Cassis Lambic for later consumption and four mystery bomber bottles to bring home in my checked bag.
Next stop was Beach City Brewery in Huntington Beach, a microbrewery with a tasting room that serves pints and 5-ounce samples seven days a week. After meeting the owners and brewmeister, we got a tour. The large walk-in cooler (more of a cool room) was full of various size kegs, all with the baby blue and silver Beach City logo. I asked the dude if they did any bottling, and he said they were having some contractors coming in soon with a mobile bottling line. Contract beer bottling at your location? I guess it makes sense if you have enough small local breweries. I then enjoyed five of the samples. First up was the Beach Cruiser Berliner Weisse, a great session beer at 2.8% ABV. Beer two was the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway, dummy!) Pale Ale at 5.5% ABV. The Hang Five IPA took no prisoners at 7.0% ABV, nor did the Rye’T IPA at 8.4%. Dessert was the Sweet Crude Stout at 5.6% ABV.
What if you get the munchies while enjoying a couple of pints at a picnic table in the tasting area? This place has a rotating schedule of food trucks (listed on a chalkboard “menu”) that camp out in the parking lot. That day it was “The Kraken”, with “Viking Sausage” and “Porko Rico BBQ” coming soon.
As the afternnon wore on, we drove down the scenic PCH through Laguna Beach and Newport Beach. There were Ferraris to the left, Maseratis to the right, Bentlys in front and Lamborghinis coming at you. “Do you want to go all the way to San Diego?” Bruce asked. “Hell, no!” I responded “that’s Paul Holder’s ‘hood!” We circled back to Long Beach, grabbing a couple of Jacked Up Crunchtadas at Del Taco for a snack before passing out.
That night we met some folks for a birthday dinner at Azteca, an Elvis-themed Mexican restaurant (say what?) on Old Main in Garden Grove. The pitchers of margaritas were tempting, but it was detox time for this old fool.
Stay tuned for Part 2, the thrilling conclusion to Wild Bill’s Memorial weekend adventure, where the identity of the mystery bomber bottles will be revealed!
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