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A new article? Yes, it’s the Brewery Vivant review!

I’m pretty sure I’ve been to Brewery Vivant at least ten times since I was commissioned to write this review almost four months ago. I have no idea what’s taken me so long, but for no reason at all, I feel like I’m ready…

It’s some time in December. Just shy of the New Year if my calculations are correct. The fat man has taken his bow, and it’s time for one last dance before taking a dive into the bog-of-shit and self-loathing that always follows another wasted year. Ho Ho Ho, just kidding folks. But enough about me, it’s the holiday season, and it’s time to think of others, to celebrate life and love and all of that other stuff that makes ya bounce. And if you ask me, there’s no better way to celebrate than to stroll down to Brewery Vivant, where you can tip back a few weird-beers, hide out from the snow and chuck of few coins around before the taxman comes a call’n. After all, we are young, old, and completely insane, and we need beer to calm our nerves. But enough about that…

The first time I walked into Vivant I was a little nervous. I had done some research beforehand and felt like I might be a bit outclassed. The website boasted a lot of catch-words that left me seeing dollar signs and wondering how I could hang out in a place that served sixteen dollar nachos. For whatever reason, it hadn’t occurred to me that they would not require me to order food, that I could just sit there in this incredibly rad bar and drink amazing beer. Which was stupid, because that’s what you do at a bar right? Eating is secondary. Reserved for those with children and the wealthy.

So because of all of that up there, I requested seats at the bar (not that we really had a choice. The place was packed). As we made our way to our seats my assistant pulled out her camera and started shooting like some sort of dumbstruck tourist. Which was a bit tact-less in my opinion, but understandable only because Brewery Vivant is easily one of the more striking bars I have ever entered. With loads of stain glass windows, vaulted ceilings, big wooden tables, and a bar that looks like it fell from an archway, the place has the look of a medieval crossroads-inn, transported from a village somewhere in Eastern Europe.

So there we were.  Me, with my notebook tucked under my arm, and my assistant firing off like a disco ball. I don’t think we could have been more obvious about why we were there.

At this point the gentleman behind the bar started smiling all sly-like and asked us all sugar-sweet,

“Are we being reviewed?”

To this question, my assistant goofed out like a four year-old who was just asked if she’s a “pretty, pretty princess”.

“Yeeeah” she said pivoting back and forth on her stool, still smiling like a goof.

With this admission, I almost made a break for the door…

Which is crazy, I know, but you have to understand something. I’ve spent my entire life trying to avoid having anyone, anywhere, know what the hell I’m up too. I don’t understand it, but it’s one of my worst and most irrational fears. I can’t even grocery shop for a specific meal because I’m afraid the checker will analyze what I’m buying and know what I’m up to…But luckily, I didn’t run. I couldn’t have. My whole body had gone numb. So instead of booking it, I stood there like a frozen turd and watched in muted horror as my assistant chatted with the barman like they were old pals from way back when and before I knew it, there was a rack of free beer sitting in front of me.

And that’s all it took folks. What better way to return from the darkness than with a glimmering tray of free beer? Bam. Just like that my fears melted away and I was immersed in the warm embrace of the only mistress I have ever loved. Beer. Hell if I remember what any of them were called, but there is a place in my heart for every last one. Belgium beer is the deal. Which was a new thing for me. Christ, Just writing this makes me want to get down there and grab a cold one. Maybe even write down a few names so I don’t come off as a complete amateur…

Truth be told, Vivant doesn’t have a fireplace. But you might swear they did. It’s as if you crawled into the bottom of your stocking and found a brewery. It’s all warm and cozy and covered in fuzzies. Or maybe it’s better than that. Who knows? And who cares? Oh… And the people next to me ate some of the most amazing food they’ve ever had.  And uh… That’s all I guess. Oh, wait. They do stein night on Thursdays. You can bring in your own stein and they’ll keep fill’n it up for five bucks a pop. So if you’re thin-blooded, and weak like me you can get blitzed for like ten bucks.