A tasting paddle at The Local Taphouse
It’s perverse of a non-beer drinker to go to a pub called The Local Taphouse but a birthday is a birthday. And even though most of our party is drinking champagne, there are plenty of other punters sporting beer-tasting paddles.
Yes, The Local Taphouse is all about beer and you can buy 90ml serves of ales, lagers and stouts that come slotted into said paddles. At the end of the row is a bowl of crackers which lends an air of sophistication to the joint. For example we didn’t see anybody lining up pints, having sculling competitions or shouting obscenities. Among the book-lined walls however, is a title that elaborates on the anxiety inducing aspects of masturbation.
The beer drinkers of the pack say there is nothing wanky about The Local Taphouse and that it does indeed, serve good beer. But we have to report that although the beer is good, the pop music is good, (will Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough ever be out of fashion?), the cabernet sauvignon is good, and the moules mariniere is more than good, the doorman is well below par.
Upon arrival at 8:30 on the Sunday night of the June long weekend the doorman suggests we are drunk when there isn’t a slur or a sway in sight. He then implies that my companion is a liar because when asked how many drinks he has had he replies ‘none.’ Is this badgering really necessary?
The Local Taphouse fills the space in the Sydney bar scene left by the closure of the Palace Hotel, but the doorman should either lose his attitude or be lost by the management. Spenlow recommends the latter.
Spenlow 