A Legendary French Chef Walks Into a Bar...

I exist on the periphery of tragedy.  Eleven years ago, I was five blocks away from the hole formerly known as the World Trade Center and now known as the Freedom Tower.  A year later, a giant portion of the northeast was enveloped in darkness, and I'm pretty sure my block was one of the first to get power.  Last March, I was in Tokyo during the biggest earthquake in Japan's history, and a few months later (this really wasn't a tragedy but it does fall into the category of holy-shit-that-was-intense), Mrs. Gastro missed her epidural window and had a drug-free childbirth (she was a total rockstar).  It has been quite the decade, but not even a former sommelier of Georges Perrier could prepare me for a chance meeting with him at Iron Hill Brewery last night.

Iron Hill, Take Two

After a successful meal from start to finish the first time around at Iron Hill Brewery, our expectations may have gotten the best of us. Or it could have been that our server, Steve, was just a jerk. In his jerk defense, however, he was also manning a 12-top. Still, I'm a damn good tipper. So what happened? How about another list?

1. Steve completely forgot the cheesesteak eggroll appetizer. It didn't show up on the bill, but there was no apology regarding the forgetfulness. And I was really looking forward to these.
2. No water refills. No check-ins. At least not for us. The 12-top was another story.
3. Fish and chips was probably a mistake after the filet-o-fish meal for lunch. And I already knew about the fries. Thankfully, malt vinegar is quite the cure-all.
4. The dressing on Mrs. Gastro's salad was so bland that all you tasted was the greens. I like greens, but I like delicious dressing much more.
5. Damn you, Steve.

I'll be back (lord knows it's not my last time at Babies 'R' Us), and hopefully the third time will be the charm. If you make it there in the meantime, just be sure you don't get stuck with Steve. Buen provecho.

The Iron Hill Brewery is Neither Made of Iron, Nor is it on a Hill. Discuss.

Perusing the aisles at Babies 'R' Us is great for the appetite, especially knowing that in a few months' time, eating, drinking, and other daily activities will sink to the bottom of the priority list (along with showering and sleeping). Eschewing the national chains for a local one, Mrs. Gastro and I satisfied our hunger (and my thirst) at Iron Hill Brewery's North Wales outpost. The verdict, in convenient (and lazy) list form:

1. Incredible service, to the point where you could get drunk just by asking for a taste of each of the beer offerings.
2. Despite the brownish color, the fish chowder had the most classic of tastes. Subtle and meaty fish, perfectly cooked potatoes, and a portion that was great to split before tucking into our giant sandwiches, speaking of which...
3. Mrs. Gastro's portobello mushroom burger was a bit messy, which caused the loss of the bottom bun, and ultimately led to a fork and knife operation. Even still, a decent take on the pub food vegetarian option.
4. My burger, the Brewsky, was also messy, but I opted to eat with my hands anyway. Topped with both sauteed mushrooms and bacon, it was a bit much. The meat was cooked nicely, however.
5. I'd bet dollars to donuts that the fries showed up earlier that day already julienned and frozen.
6. Pig Iron Porter is almost as good as Polygamy Porter, and Iron Hill's Belgian offering was no slouch either.

I'd go back multiple times, if only to get through their extensive beer list and even more extensive menu. Our food was delicious, and everything we saw on the other tables (even the salads), looked worth a try. Buen provecho.