Beer Review, John Harvard’s Brew House
To be published in the Georgetown Law Weekly (likely in a modified form)
By Matthew S. Schwartz, 2L
Guest Writer
Tucked away in the ground level of 1299 Pennsylvania Ave. N.W., this local brewery is a favorite of the downtown office crowd. Busy at lunch and during happy hour, it calms down considerably at night. The evening solace is a welcome change from the packed bars in Dupont and Adams Morgan, and the beers – brewed in house – are often quite tasty.
However, with 25 beers that rotate on and off the menu throughout the season, your mileage may vary. A few weeks ago, for instance, I experienced two delectable concoctions – the Summer Peach, a refreshing pale ale flavored with understated peach; and the Schwarzbier, a dark, malty beer hinting at chocolate.
This week, my experience was somewhat less thrilling, though still pleasant. Accompanied by a colleague who studies law at Catholic, and my ex-girlfriend who was in town for some reason, I ordered the “Sampler,” a collection of five current beers. Trusty iBook in hand, I wrote the review at the table, lest the alcohol cloudy my memory later on.
Here are the results:
* Summer Blonde: Hops attack! After an aggressively hoppy first sip, the beer took on an unexpected sweetness. “It’s like honey,” my colleague noted. I agreed.
The meals arrived, muddying my once-clean palate with delicious chicken quesadillas and black bean sauce. With a sip of water, I forged on, and found that the summer blonde’s sweeter qualities were more pronounced. The table agreed – this beer is definitely more agreeable after food.
Much like many real life summer blondes, she grew on me. I will miss her now that autumn is upon us.
* Half Wit: The menu promised this wheat beer would be served with “an orange wedge and a smile.”
“I don’t see an orange wedge!” noted my colleague. “Nor do I see a smile.” His words rang true. My argumentative ex-girlfriend pointed out that the waiter did smile a lot when he was here.
We took a sip. “He tricked us!” my colleague shouted. “This is IPA!” Indeed, we had asked the server not to bring the India Pale Ale because we have had bad experiences with it in the past. But this half wit was clearly a follower of the IPA school. I was almost afraid to take a second sip. Definitely pungent. Imagine the bitterness of eating an orange peel; the initial promise of sweet citrus quickly ruined by the bitterness of, well, the peel.
“You used bitterness twice and—“
“It’s a first draft, Ex!”
“Don’t call me that!”
“‘Ex’? It indicates we had a bond.”
“A bond that was shattered!”
“I didn’t shatter it!”
“Yes you did!”’
“Oh.”
Deciding that we had had enough of the half wit, we moved on to the Pale Ale.
* Pale Ale: “Our signature beer, this copper colored ale is well hopped with a dry citrus finish and a medium body,” read the accompanying description.
Apparently, “well hopped” is a euphemism for Blech! This beer is far too hoppy; it goes right to the back of your mouth and leaves an unpleasant aftertaste. Though not nearly as pungent as the half-wit, it still disagrees with me.
The more you drink it, the less pronounced the hops become. Yet the aftertaste remains, lurking in the background and making this beer – John Harvard’s “signature” – a disappointment.
* Oktoberfest: The most beautifully colored beer on the table, it was billed as a “medium bodied” beer with “wonderful sweet malt flavors that explode in your mouth. Ouch!”
That malty taste that characterizes ambers was evident here, jumping out at me upon first sip. It would be wonderful if not for the hops that accompanied it. Ouch is right!
As with every other beer, it became more drinkable as we went on. However, it is nowhere near as good as John Harvard’s other well-known amber, the Celtic Red, a seasonal beer served in February and March.
* Potomac Porter: Disgusting.
Because I cannot stand dark beers, and because I want to spice this review up, my colleague and I will now speculate on what our presidential candidates might say about this horrid brew.
President Bush: “See, I like beer. I quit drinking for a while though. So, I took a sip of this beer here, and ya know, I- I- I- I- I- I don’t know. You can’t not like the beer. Because the beer makes us who we are. The senator doesn’t like the beer! He said, he voted against the beer before he voted for it! Is that green light on yet?”
Senator Kerry, you have two minutes.
“When I was a young man in combat, I drank this beer. After 20 years in the senate – which shall remain nameless – I still drink this wonderful brown dark beer. In my opinion, and in the opinion of most of my colleagues in the Senate, and in the opinion of the president’s father, this beer has a kick to it. It’s a kick that defines the beer. President Bush is wrong when he says that I didn’t support this beer; I did support the beer! I have had one constant position about this beer. I felt that the beer was good, but we could have gone about drinking it in a different way.
“Colin Powell has what he likes to call the ‘Happy hour rule’: You buy it, you drink it. President Bush would take thirteen years to drink this beer. But I promise to drink it in the next four.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I know what it’s like to pick up a glass where you don’t know what’s around the corner. And as your president, I will support whatever beer comes our way. And I will make sure that before I drink the beer, it passes the global test.”
President Bush, your thirty second response?
(Silent blinking for five seconds.)
“A global test for what? What does that mean? I don’t understand that. Global test for the beer? I support the beer. Senator Kerry said it was the wrong beer, the wrong pub, the wrong time. How can we support our breweries if we criticize their beer?
“I know how to drink beer – that’s my job! I wake up every morning thinking about the best way to drink beer. That’s all I do! I don’t want Osama to decide how we drink our beer! I support the beer. I ask you for your vote.
“And Saddam had nucular weapons!”
If I believed my president were an idiot, I would be angry also.
