If you’ve followed the evolution of Two Roads Brewing Company, it’s quite something. Since the main brewery opened in 2012, one thing they kept doing is continuing to evolve. Not including a laundry list of beer releases, Two Roads went onto open a second facility next to their Hop Yard six years ago that you now know as Area Two Experimental Brewing. Following Area Two and all their fun, funky small batch drops, and in no particular order, Two Roads got into making canned cocktails, non-alcoholic beer, distilling (we’ll have a few teasers on that), and they even purchased the former PizzaCo across the street and turned it into Two Roads Food Hall & Bar and next door, Two Roads Tee Box, a golf simulator, making it a full-blown “campus.”
When brothers Sam and Javier Reyes took over the reigns of Mezon Tapas Bar from their older brothers Richard and Juan, and flipped the concept over to Mariposa Taqueria in 2020, focusing on tacos and Latin American street food, they had big plans on the horizon. Sam, who’s coming off a 2023 Bartender of the Year win at the Connecticut Restaurant Association’s CRAZIES Awards, took that award and the recognition it brought to launch a series of cocktail competitions to highlight area bartenders so they can show off their full display of skills to local cocktail lovers.
The former ON20 Restaurant, known for its soaring views of the Connecticut River and other area landmarks, has been fully renovated and reimagined, with even more stunning panoramic vistas of the capital city. The industrial-chic interior has an expansive bar, an open kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances, private dining spaces and jaw-dropping glimpses of the sky from nearly every vantage point.
ON20, a celebrated white tablecloth establishment for many years, closed during the uncertainty of the pandemic in 2020, but two years ago, Hartford Steam Boiler’s leadership began reaching out to key people to start conversations about reopening the restaurant.
“Yale asked me if I was interested in the space, and I took it as a challenge. A small space, few tables, no pizza – I was able to focus on fine dining.” I’m in New Haven, talking with chef Danilo Mongillo about Strega, his second restaurant of the same name, but with a very different concept.
“You have excellent food here – French, Spanish, American – and I took bringing this level of Italian to downtown, not in competition, but just to bring more good food here. That was the challenge.”
The first time I ate at Strega was the location in Milford (both restaurants are just off the corners of their respective city greens) and I’d returned many times for his creations which were just a little different – the way a sentence is altered when the pen is in a different hand – and made with exceptional ingredients. I ask if the new Strega is based on anything regionally Italian, and he shakes the question off, moving in another direction.
“Fine dining is about the technique. It’s about the balance of the flavors – something sweet, something sour – and the balance with the wine. The balance of the bite.”
Almost a year ago, I covered Crust Issues, brought to you by longtime restaurant guy, John Nealon. I’ve since gotten addicted to several of his pizzeria’s signature grub, namely the outside the box, but creative rectangular, crispy, cheesy, garlic buttery pizzas and the pounded out crunchy coated cutlets—especially the spicy chicken scarp.
It doesn’t help (or maybe it does) that it’s a flat one-mile drive away to get my fix.
Nealon has some cool ideas for the evolution of Crust Issues, one that I’ve consistently bothered and pressured him about (I’ll keep it a secret unless it actually happens), and he’s recently mentioned installing a bar for future cocktail program.
But there’s a weekly tasting he’s been doing every Saturday from 7:30 – 9 p.m. that’s a super casual, fun, tasty, incredibly reasonably priced (it’s $40 per person including beer, wine, soda, or water), and you’ll leave happy, fat, and ready for bed.
Call it a "bloody beer," and I will have you flensed. An associate from Oklahoma calls them that, and his entire recipe consists of V8 and Gas Station Lite, like some sort of godless swine. I call it a michelada when I drink them, and you should, too. This sounds prescriptive, and it's intended to, because it's best to be forewarned and forearmed when we encounter a new specie.
I have long been a fan of the bloody mary - in fact, I credit her with saving my life many a time during the Great Patriotic Keg Wars of my early 20s, but 30 was stealing up on me like Trotsky's assassin before I was swept up in the red coup of the michelada, and I've been a member of the party ever since, comrade.
Mistakes were made along the way, of course. 'This is a recovery drink,' I remember thinking. 'A sort of tremens-drip for the drinking class. It stands to reason that the more vitamins, minerals and other assorted Earth-stuffs, the better, yes? V8 is packed with many of the vegetables I hate, ergo it's bound to be good for me/this drink.' Ice, hot sauce, salt, pepper and beer went into the glass with the red fluid from the colorful bottle, and the results more successful than The Great Leap Forward only in that no one actually died. It was like drinking carrot juice from a storm drain.
Despite expert credibility having recently taken several cannonballs below the waterline, and 60-degree sweater weather remaining in abundance,summer - they tell us - has officially arrived. The days are near their longest, and the months start with “J”, so we must grudgingly accede they have a point. This time each year, in a migration as timeless and majestic as the great herds of the Serengeti - Nutmeggers can be seen dragging our coolers to beaches and backyards. What are we drinking? Hard seltzer! NO! I mean, yes, but also: shut up.
We are drinking:
Very cold.
Easy drinking.
Usually Mexican lager. Corona, Pacifico, Modelo, ET C.
Why do we drink these? Because 1&2, but also... it’s what we’ve always done. Why are you thinking about this?
BECAUSE I’ve been noticing Connecticut brewers have been trying out the style in increasing numbers, they are delicious, and more people should know, which has always been the entire point of this column.
Fine dining isn’t dead, despite what René Redzepi might say or think, as he gets ready to shutter the doors of what’s been considered one of the best restaurants in the entire world for nearly twenty years. West Hartford has been missing this ‘option’ in dining for a very long time, up until now. Located at 43 Lasalle Road amid restaurant row, are two gentleman working incredibly hard to bring back the ‘tasting menu’ and the full experience that goes along with it, if you choose. You should choose. Head Chef Tim East brings with him a very diverse background in food as he’s worked at several high profile restaurants around the state with some very notable chefs including Todd English and Bobby Flay. He is no stranger to West Hartford either, as he oversaw the much loved Besito in Blueback square that closed over a rental agreement dispute. Most recently however, he took on a leadership role at the storied Cavey’s in Manchester where he developed a love of French cuisine along with many of its techniques. Tim carries all of this experience and knowledge along with his passion, to a restaurant that is focused on its changing the narrative from what it was before he arrived, to what it is capable of under his leadership, a true destination restaurant amongst the West Hartford food scene.
Ask any Fairfield County food truck fanatic what their favorite one was over the past handful of years and they’re likely to mention Nosh Hound if they know what they’re talking about.
The stacked sandwiches, the tacos, the burgers, and the bowls, and yes, even the “F” word…FUSION. It all really worked for Nosh Hound. I, for one, sought out Sam and Maycie Ralbovsky’s truck at every Mill River Park event. My final Nosh Hound memory was at Half Full’s Oktoberfest in Downtown Stamford when I obliterated a pork schnitzel sandwich.
Several months ago, I’m certain my reaction to my dear friend, Katy, mentioning RSVP was something like, “Yeah. That means respond.” If we’re being technical, it’s actually “répondez s'il vous plait” or translated from French to English, “respond, if you please.”
Until Katy finished her thought by telling me that RSVP a French restaurant in Litchfield County that she heard about from one of her friends who’s a bartender. “He raves about it,” she said.
As is always the case, time passed. We kind of forgot about RSVP and barely looked into it for weeks, even months. Only occasionally we’d briefly bring it up, referring it as “THAT French place in Cornwall.”
Anyone who's ever hit happy hour and subsequently remembered they hadn't eaten dinner while staring into a beer at another location sometime around midnight can probably feel the pain of the next morning right now, as you're reading this. Remember that? Well, let's not let that happen again, or allow ourselves to slap late night drive-thru - the FlexTape of Shame - over the leaky bucket of our decisions.
What we need is food with our beers, whether we're adding plates to pitchers and pints at the taproom, or exploring flavor combinations at home. Inspiration struck while I was at my first beer pairing dinner in over two years at The Little Pub in Fairfield, hosted by Greg Radawich, director of brewing operations at New England Brewing Company in Woodbridge. I'll get into what you can have from the brewery and pub, plus a few more ideas to serve as springboards for your own dives into brews and foods.
And if you missed this beer dinner, Little Pub will be hosting another beer pairing dinner with Fat Orange Cat brewery at Little Pub, Fairfield on Tuesday, March 1.
One of life's principle joys is an unexpected bulldog. There you are, mind preoccupied and steps ahead of whatever you should be paying attention to in the moment you're actually living, and boom: giant smiley meatball of joy out of nowhere. How could that not improve any day? Last September, in the Before Times, I went to a Connecticut farm to find out about hop growing, and discovered a newborn brewery instead. At the time, Stewards Of The Land in Northford wasn't finished, not quite ready yet for the outside world. So now, just as the eyes of the world are cautiously blinking open again, I returned to sit on the farm brewery's patio and, yes, there was a bulldog.
I'm not just making an allegory here: Guinness (that's the name he came with, give head brewery Alex DeFrancesco more credit for creativity than that), was cooling off on the stone patio, set with chairs outside the New England tavern style brewery, above a field of sprouting row crops - the hillside and lawns swaying here and there with bluish stalks of heirloom rye. I squatted down and scruffled Guinness' huge head behind his ears. He had it right. This is a place to stretch out and relax.
The bar where my initials were once carefully poured into the foam crown of a Guinness every time I called, with a place setting waiting both in case I wanted a snack, and to save my favorite spot, is gone forever. It was my first local, a place close by where reliably stopping in and not causing too much trouble develops into an earned mutual welcoming. The place feels like a friend's living room - you know where to sit, they know what you like, and everyone slips easily back into the conversation you shared last time you stopped in. The whole experience, whether as a relief from the day, the glow of alcohol, whatever brought you back through the doors - it just feels warm. Like I said at the start, it's gone now. The place I mention hasn't been open for years, but what about your place? What about so many of these shared environments whose doors we'll never walk through again? What will it be like at the old regular tables and spots we used to take up now the ones who lived through America's epidemic experience may reopen? "Everything's changed," they tell us - but can anything be the same?
Beer: it's not just for beer drinkers anymore. Seriously. New or casual drinkers can steer themselves safely away from anything resembling what would have been considered an actual beer even five or six years ago, and still be paralyzed with overwhelming options. Wine drinker? There's a chance I've already converted you through the deft application of a gose made with grapes, or a raspberry lambic. Are most beers too: bland/malty/hoppy/bitter, or sour for you? No problem! Because brewers can load your pint with so much lactose they call it a milkshake, and you can drink actual donuts. That's between you and your pancreas.
Brut IPAs - the actual champagne of beers - are a very new, entirely American style. They're sweet and dry, beginning to show up all over the place, and I thought this week I'd do an explainer and review a few brewers' early efforts. Drinkers of the bubbly, drinkers of the murky, and Connecticut craft beer fans in general: you may just be about to have a new summer fling.
Like oncoming headlights appearing out of a foggy night, genetics are indicators which don't tell the whole story. Heredity may lay out a path, but time and observation tell where it leads. Phil Markowski helped launch New England Brewing Company in 1989, and decades later did the same as the master brewer at Two Roads. In the last Froth I talked about how NEBCo's dandelion head was spreading seeds all over Connecticut - from new beers under their current brewer, to Counter Weight Brewing in Hamden from his predecessor, and a tip about the inaugural tapping of beers from Tribus in Milford, the newest offspring of the ancestor brewery. This week, for the first time anywhere, we'll take a look at Tribus and its beers to see where this is all headed.
Have you ever looked down into the swirling foam at the top of a freshly poured beer and thought "that looks like a galaxy"? Ever had your mind blown by a Carl Sagan quote? Do you like New Haven pizz- OK, unless you're a CAPTCHA-bot, of course you do. The point is, whether you've watched the original Cosmos ten times, or you just wonder how far away the stars are, BAR in New Haven has re-started Astronomy On Tap, where beer, pizza, and cosmology come together.
Astronomy On Tap is a a global event series where professors, PhDs, and grad students talk about their areas of expertise at bars full of anyone who's interested, and it's free.
Being a beer writer, as you'd expect, has its perks. For a few years one of these was being chosen to serve on a panel of expert judges at the Connecticut Blind Beer Awards, a competition between a dozen local beers which takes the popularity contest aspect out of the equation by serving each from unlabeled, color-coded taps. The event is held each year at the Blind Rhino in South Norwalk, and while brewery representatives are on hand in case their brewery wins one of the awards, they are sequestered away from public view in the bar's basement to bottle share, play beer pong, and perform impromptu interior decorating with some cans of spray paint they found, until the Experts Choice and People's Choice are handed out. I had no formal connection with the awards this year, attending instead as a civilian, and drank all twelve of the CT beers on tap. Here is how that went.
The shadows seem to be growing this January. Winter daylight is all too brief, darkness glooming in through a window you swear was sunny the last time you walked by. It suddenly feels like it's gone dark all the time now. Maybe you feel it, too. And how long to go before the next sunrise? Ugh. The days ahead seem so stretch on to the invisible horizon. Maybe you could use a drink, a 16oz. weight to hang from time's pendulum to speed those dark hours on their way. Make it a strong one, because maybe we can clip off some of tomorrow's darkness while we're at it. Gravity shapes space, as we all know, and space is tied to time, so let's grab a few high gravity beers, and bend the long arc.
Fresh beer isn't always the best beer. As arguments for freshness go, you could make one for juicy, resinous IPAs, and you certainly don't want to drink any hot can of Busch Light which rolls out from underneath a car seat, but as the American craft beer industry matures, it's beginning to make beers meant to do the same. Stone, the Escondido, California brewer of undeniable arrogance, will shy away from claims of being the first to put "born on" dates on their bottles and cans, but they were the first to use "Enjoy By" as the actual name of a beer. The Enjoy By series of IPAs (followed by a date on each) was to be taken so seriously Stone would come and retrieve any unsold beers from retailers.
This is why it was so interesting when Stone Enjoy After 10.31.16 hit shelves - in 2015. This week I opened the bottle I bought over a year ago. Here's what happened.
