Watching football and drinking beer pretty much go hand-in-hand where I’m from. However, having attended Bath University (a sports uni that was big on its drinking games) and being an economist, when it comes to beer, I usually opt for the one that will get me the drunkest for the least money, as opposed to that which tastes the best. Pre-Chelsea game, I can be found hovering around Fulham Broadway tube station with a can of Stella in my hand, dodging the security guards who will give me a talking to if they find me. Such is the extensiveness of my drinking beer that I’ve actually grown to like the terrible brews like Stella and Foster’s. However, when I have a classier brand, like Peroni, I can taste a discernible difference, so obviously my tastebuds haven’t completely gone in the beer department. For that reason, I thought I’d check out a German beer house.
The first beer I went for was a wheat beer with undertones of vanilla and banana, and it was wonderful. I was brave and went for a whole stein (more than two pints worth), so it was lucky that I picked one I liked so much. The next brew was a darker wheat, which I enjoyed less (I consider Corona and Peroni superior), but it was sure as hell nicer than Carling. For food, I had meatloaf and gravy, which was fine, but the pub was a little miserly on the gravy for my liking (I’d been to a British pub just days before and my meal then had been lathered in gravy, just how I like it). Because I didn't mix my alcohols, my hangover the next day wasn't too strong, yet by the time I left the pub, I was in extremely high spirits, so the alcohol had done its short-term job.
The experience of Bierpalast, on the whole, was hugely enjoyable. The waiters were more than happy to stop and impart their expertise, and the guy who told me about the beers clearly had a fondness for the vanilla-tinted one, so I feel he recommended well. The majority of the pub is situated in the basement, and it wasn’t anywhere near as over-crowded as a nearby pub that I’d walked past on my way there from Temple station. One of the most off-putting elements of most pubs on a Friday at 7pm is just how choc-a-bloc full of people it is. It can be very claustrophobic, and damn near impossible to find a seat for two people. But for some reason this place was populated without being over-crowded, and neither did it blast some obnoxious popular music so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think. Come to think of it, the fact that it stayed true to its German roots (most of the waiters/waitresses had thick German accents) rather than pandering to British tastes, probably dissuaded the more nationalist clientele, but for the likes of me with no nationalistic agenda who just want a good beer, I was super-grateful. For people who enjoy a good brew, I would give this place a huge thumbs up.
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