Brought to you by:
I used to live in Fremont, and passed this place a bazillion times on my way to and from work, but never went in. A co-worker’s birthday finally brought me there, years after I had moved. I arrived to the party about an hour after everyone else. (My hair wouldn’t cooperate. It could have happened to anyone. Don’t judge me.) It was a warm summer night and the beer garden was *packed*. I said my hellos, and sauntered over to the bar to order.
Anyone who knows me knows I don’t know a thing about beer. I know the brands I don’t care for (I’m lookin at you, PBR) but I’m much more at a loss to talk about the things I like. A little citrus-y punch is nice. Something spicy, with…um…moderate hoppiness? It was this very eloquent and technical statement I made to the man standing in front of the taps. After one “you’re a martini girl aren’t ya?” sort of smile, (yes I am, thankyouverymuch) he handed me a couple of tasters and explained how and why their flavours came together. Grateful for his gracious and knowledgeable manner, I made my selection, and sauntered back over to the table.
We spent a couple more hours there, laughing and sipping and noshing on snack mix. Space in the beer garden never opened up, which was a bummer. But they do have huge rolling doors that left us exposed to a lovely summer breeze.
FBC recently installed an indoor firepit. Bonus points!