A little over a year ago, my boyfriend and I saw on Why Leave Astoria that there was going to be a 4th of July clambake at a place called Hell Gate Social. Intrigued and hungry, we ventured down Astoria Boulevard looking for 14th street. We wound up wandering around, lost and starving, until a tattooed guy with a horseshoe shaped mustache emerged from behind a black warehouse door. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that tattoos+crazy ‘stache+black unmarked door=speakeasy and it was thus that my friendship with Hell Gate Social and subsequently it’s owner, George, began.
While the clambake is a special occasion only event, Hell Gate has plenty of weekly and monthly shindigs and specials to wet your whistle. There’s a 2-4-1 happy hour special every weekday and on Sundays in the summer for the $10 all-you-can-eat MeatMe Sunday event, which also features awesome DJs. WLA cardholder? You can have your 2-4-1 happy hour anytime simply by flashing your card. Once a month Hell Gate hosts burlesque, with this Friday being ultra 80’s night. Rockband is set up every Wednesday, $3 will get you a High Life and whiskey shot, and on a Tuesday $5 will get you a “home-style margarita”. They also do art openings for the local artists whose works adorns their walls.
Enough with the events calendar (which could go on for a few more paragraphs check their website) and on to the beer! George likes to rotate his taps and bottles frequently, and always has a nice variety of local brews.
I went this past Sunday for the BBQ and rocked out to Ru-the-Day in the backyard garden, despite the rain. I ordered up a pint of the mellow and malty Sixpoint Brownstone, which is one of my favorites, and examined their new food menu. In addition to the all-you-can-eat, HGS has a la carte BBQ items and an indoor menu available every day till 4am. I went with the Jalapeño Pinwheels, which were crunchy and satisfyingly spicy, and my friend Sal went for the a la carte burger and corn with cayenne and queso fresco.
To quench the zest of the jalapeño, I got the Mermaid Pilsner from Coney Island. Mermaid is a dry hopped rye pilsner that goes down smooth and definitely killed the fire from the pepper pinwheels. My friend Todd opted to go with the Hoptical Illusion from Bluepoint. I’ll be the first to admit I have had my issues with this particular IPA. I first (and last) bought it about three years ago after discovering my love for their Toasted Lager. I had been out with some friends drinking #9s and Smithwicks all night, got home and cracked open a Hoptical Illusion, and that was that folks. The hop explosion in my stomach did not want to make friends with the other beer, it did not like my insides, and it wanted to leave the way it came in. Needless to say I don’t touch the stuff but if you are a brave hop head, by all means go for it.
Mr. Free went for the Fransizkaner wheat beer from Germany, nice and lemony for the summer. Fransizkaner means “brewery near the Franciscans” and it is the oldest privately owned brewery in Munich, dating back to 1363. The Franciscan Friar logo was designed for the brewery in 1935, and was inspired by the monastery across the street. Also always on tap, the good ol’ champagne of beers: Miller High Life. I don’t mind me a High Life, and it goes quite nicely in HGS’s Miller-ita cocktail—a funky little margarita topped with High Life. They also rock a few other familiar bottles: Stella, Schneider Weiss, Corona, Peroni, and Red Stripe. Did you know the U.S. stopped importing Red Stripe in the early ‘80’s because it was being used to smuggle herb from Jamaica into Miami? They also sponsor a yearly thumb-wrestling tournament. Seriously.
I know what you are thinking, it’s such a hike to Hell Gate from the train, there’s nothing else over there, blah blah blah. Get over it, you can certainly use the walk to work up your thirst and come on, a car is only about $7 to get home. The Astor Bake Shop has just opened up next door and trust me, their cupcakes rock. Alright, the front door is all black with a red light and looks a bit standoffish, but the people inside aren’t (especially after a few beers).
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