Gone Home to Chicago (Part 2): A Visit to Hopleaf, Chicago's Legendary Beer Bar

Part 1 can be found here.

While home in Chicago earlier this month, I had the chance to drop into Michael and Louise's Hopleaf Bar, the legendary Chicago beer spot located in the Uptown neighborhood of the city. Why legendary? Well:

1. Informal conversations with friends knowledgeable about the Chicago beer scene have repeatedly resulted in the proffering of voluminous praise for Hopleaf's always excellent tap list.
2. Google search after Google search turned up Hopleaf in list after list of the best beer places in the city (and even the country). Chicago Magazine went so far as to call it "The Archetype" for all of Chicago beer-dom.
3. Everyone loves it - Hopleaf has managed to maintain a 4+ star Yelp average with a staggering 1,300 reviews on the books - more than double the number of the next closest beer bar with a similar score.

I walked in excited; I saw my all-time-favorite beer Zombie Dust on tap and nearly fainted:

After my gamely-accompanying friends shook me out of dazed reverie, I ordered a pint of Zombie Dust (my first time having it on tap), a B. Nektar Meadery Zombie Killer (to continue the theme), and a Stillwater Cellar Door (sorry, there just wasn't a third sonambulist-themed beverage). 

While we were waiting for the kindly silver-bearded man behind the bar to fill our order (possibly one of the owners, Michael), I had the chance to look around. The space was very homey, a comforting glow dimly illuminating the warm environs. Painstakingly-curated vintage beer signs from far-flung Belgium, Germany, and France adorned the walls, firmly ensconcing this neighborhood establishment in a long tradition of European beer-lovers dating back hundreds of years. A pleasant mid-level din of friendly conversation wafted above the main bar room, which featured a truly diverse clientele ranging from multi-ethnic groupings of college kids to families from down the street to older gentlemen ribbing each other about going-ons long past.

Hopleaf had just recently opened expanded premises for the bar in July of 2012, which meant that in addition to the main bar area and back dining room, there was now a second-floor sitting area and a split-level loft area. The sheer amount of real-estate was shocking, having come from Manhattan. There wasn't a constant fear of having some too-close shmuck knock your beer out of your hands with a poorly-timed jostle.

After picking up our beverages, we migrated down the hallway, turned through the rear dining room, and headed up the stairs to the brick-walled second floor lounge:

Up there, we were pleasantly surprised to see a corner nook bar with a chalkboard tap and bottle list different from that being served downstairs! Amazing surroundings firmly observed, we tucked into our brews. The Zombie Dust on tap didn't disappoint - my tasting notes hit on all of the same virtuous points that the initial three, more-in-depth reviews for the bottled version did. It was just screamingly fresh - the Citra hop aromas intoxicatingly rich in citrus and tropical fruit notes and the lovely bitterness and substantial malt bill engaged in perfect balance. You can only give a perfect 5/5 to a beer so many times before it becomes unnecessary, but I'll be damned if I don't try it every chance I get with Zombie Dust.

I also sampled my friends' orders to take tasting notes. The B. Nektar Meadery Zombie Killer (6.0% ABV), a cherry cider / honey mead fusion, came first. It was a clear, red-tinged orange color in the glass. Smelling revealed a canned-cranberry sauce aroma, like it was Thanksgiving all of the sudden in April. This one sipped thinly in the mouth, exhibiting a sweet, very-vaguely cherry-like, cider flavor with honeyed boozy edges. Simple, but a bit too sweet, earning a 3.5/5 overall. The Stillwater Cellar Door (6.6% ABV), a Saison, was up next. It was a murky orange-gold in color. Definite sage, Belgian yeast, and baking spice aromas expressed themselves up front. Good mouth carbonation and a medium body delivered a warming sensation, with Belgian yeast, nutmeg, and pumpkin exhibited in the taste. A well-made beer that features three different aromas/tastes that I don't particularly enjoy (overly-evident Belgian yeast, pumpkin, and sage), resulting in a 3.5/5 overall. Both B. Nektar Meadery and Stillwater are highly regarded for these respective styles of brew - mead and Saisons - but I unfortunately didn't find much in these particular examples worth coming back to.

After this first round, the downstairs main bar had thinned out a bit, so we grabbed a table and a tap-and-bottle-list. In between gazes admiring the very cool green-painted-stamped-tin ceiling, I leafed through the menu and found that they had Bell's Expedition Stout (10.5% ABV). Never one to miss the chance to try the recently-crowned 18th best beer on earth, I purchased a bottle of this soon-to-leave-shelves winter seasonal. Even with my mild skepticism towards very highly alcoholic, heavy Imperial Stouts, I had high hopes on this occasion. 

They were foolishly misplaced. This beer poured out into the glass like a viscous motor oil, pitch-black with a thin coffee-colored rim. Toasted soy, Barleywine-level booziness, and dark chocolate all layered on top of an aromatic backbone of distractingly bracing malty sweetness. A thick and syrupy mouthfeel with dark stone fruit segued to dark chocolate, then sweet malt, then a bit of coffee hoppiness. The whole thing was very boozy, cloyingly sweet, and far too thick to be even remotely palatable. I couldn't muster the gumption to finish more than four sips, try as I might. While I realize that many of the facets of Expedition Stout that I criticize may be enjoyable for others - the high alcohol content, the heavy malt dosage, the particular mouthfeel - I found no solace here. I have drank truly great Imperial Stouts in my day, many of them from Michigan, even, and this was not one. A massive disappointment, and one of my first pour-outs in a long time - 2.5/5 overall.

My friends had slightly better luck, my first friend with his Dark Horse Reserve Special Black Ale (7.5% ABV), and the second with the Oud Beersel Framboise (5.0% ABV) that I had recommended her. So generous were they in comforting me following the harrowing Expedition Stout debacle that they allowed me to take tasting notes for these two as well. The Dark Horse brew poured a very dark brown with a slight ring around the edges of the glass. Aromas of toasted grains and ashy coffee wafted off this one. A medium-bodied mouthfeel featured those same tastes on the palate, along with strong notes of popcorn, toasted dark rye, and barley on a slight coffee base. Unexpected, but pleasant, earning a 3.75/5. The Framboise was reddish-plum colored with a thin pinkish white head. Fresh juicy raspberry wove in and out of dried raspberry aromas on the nose. It was well-carbonated, with dried raspberry flavors that segued into a neatly sour note that in turn closed in a slightly wheaty metallic and lactic tartness. While I'm almost always a fan of fruit-inflected Lambics, this one's closing metallic note was an odd distraction, knocking an otherwise more promising beer to a 3.5/5.

At this point, we were getting into last-call territory for the evening. Another consultation of the menu surfaced Bell's Two Hearted Ale (7.0% ABV), an IPA praised as "a long-time Hopleaf favorite". Now, Two Hearted and I have a complicated history. It showed up on "Best IPAs in the World" lists regularly, and many zealous beer nerds proclaim it their preferred go-to, on par with my feverous affection for Zombie Dust. Yet, when I first tasted it this past November, all I had to write down was "Ugh. One of my least favorite hyped beers. The hops are sickly sweet and cloying, not a pleasant drink." However, given the praise that I'd continued to hear in favor of Two Hearted in the ensuing time, I decided to try it just one more time to make sure that I hadn't just been an inexperienced beer-drinker rendering a rash judgement. 

A silver haired woman in tightly framed glasses (who I took to be Louise, the other owner) tendered my order, handing me a full glass of orange-y gold, translucent beer. Bready citrus aromas danced with what I can only describe as a Trix-like fruitiness. Sipping revealed candied treacly sweetness with a ghastly Fruity Pebble taste. In a moment that was simultaneously a vindication of my initial impressions and a devastation of my taste-buds, Two Hearted had shown that it truly was not my cup of tea. I was so put off that I racked up my second Bell's drain-pour for the night - and my only two for the year so far. Overall, 3/5, but even that may be an overly-charitable assessment. How could the same brewery that made Hopslam, which I gave a glowing 4.5/5 review for recently, make two more beers that were some of the worst that I'd ever had?

After I took several long sips of palate-cleansing water, my friends and I gathered our things, wished the friendly staff a good night, and walked out into the windy and orange-halogen tinted Chicago night. Hopleaf as a venue had been nothing short of excellent, bad beer picks on our end aside. I had learned a valuable beer-lover lesson: while it's almost always better to branch out and experiment, every once in awhile it pays to stick to what you know and love. That said, the next time I return to Hopleaf, I'm sure I'll want to take another crack at the world of wonderful brews they have to offer.

Helpful Info:

Hopleaf is located at 5148 N. Clark Street, Chicago, IL, 60640. The Berwyn and Argyle CTA Red Line stops are the closets public transportation options. For more general information on hours, phone number, and directions, click here. Their expansive tap list is updated frequently; you can find it here.