Audio By Carbonatix
We’ve all had those days when we just really want — and borderline physically need — a beer. This doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s been a bad day — although the beer-wanting feeling is very common after a day when your co-workers and/or boss make you want to stick a semi-sharp object in your eye (which hurts more than sticking a really sharp object in your eye). You can also have this feeling on a really good day, when you accomplish something spectacular and manly and recognize that the best way to celebrate and maintain that vibe is to go out and grab a woman and a beer, not necessarily in that order.
I don’t remember what kind of day it was that brought me and the Mormon Representative to the Institute of Drinking Studies and our respective families to Hillcrest Grill (5755 East Third Avenue), but I’m sure I needed a beer. And my amnesia can be fully attributed to putting away a few beers — specifically Dead Guy Ales — prior to dinner. The Rogue brewery in Oregon states that any connection between the skeleton logo on these bottles and the Grateful Dead is purely coincidental, but the way just a couple of beers got to me makes me wonder if somebody didn’t drop a hit of something into the batch. Or maybe it was fatigue that made me slur, or my apparently donning a psychological skirt that evening and forgetting that I am a more masculine person who likes to be overserved. But I’d rather go with the theory that a special beer additive was the culprit, a theory backed by the fact that when I looked past the Mormon Representative that night, a very healthy, happy Jerry Garcia gave me a thumbs-up.
Fortunately, my sloppiness did not detract from the Hillcrest experience. While the temperature in the room approached absolute zero, quick bar service kept my core temperature warm. (Or is it booze that makes you cold? I can never remember; I skipped that part of med school.) And not only was the service fast, but it was accommodating. At one point, the Mormon Representative and I ordered another round of Dead Guy — only to learn that there was only one bottle left. Since he knew he didn’t want to deal with my come-down, the Mormon let me have the bottle — and was rewarded with a free beer for his sacrifice.
Though it made my brain feel like it was in an opium den, Hillcrest is actually a nice family joint. It features the most recent advance in parental irresponsibility: a large playpen that locks, so you can place your toddler inside and then belly up to the bar for a few Dead Guys and game-watching on the requisite TV. It also serves excellent grub, including what the Mormon called “a killer sleeper burger.”
The Institute highly recommends that you load up the station wagon and head to Hillcrest Grill for great food and a righteous buzz. But if you decide to try the Dead Guy Ale, make sure somebody remembers to grab the kids from the play area before you leave.
