Historic, Haunted and a Helluva Beer List

Vinny Pereira, an MC brother, aptly calls it "Wind Therapy."

My daily, therapeutic two-wheeled adventures often find me criss-crossing the Delaware, from the Northwest Corner of Jersey to the Southeast Corner of Pennsy. Shaded two-lane blacktop, mottled by the sun peeking through the trees, a river or canal on my left or right, depending on my direction, the throaty rumble of 1300 cc's coming from the Vance and Hines pipes and the wind in my face is all the therapy I need. No tunes, no GPS, no passenger. Just the rumble, the road and the rush. It's why you rarely see a motorcycle parked at the psychiatrist's office.

I do, however, need to stop occasionally for sustenance--victuals and beer--and to shake my booty a bit. So I look for neat pubs with good beer, good food and a clean bathroom. I have some favorites at both ends of the river, from the Riegelsville Inn up north, to The Vault and The Continental Tavern down south, to Isaac Newton's somewhat to the west. And yesterday I added a new one to the itinerary.

It's called the Yardley Inn, and it sits at a three-way stop right on Rt. 32 in Yardley. I never stopped in before, because, quite frankly, it looked too swanky for a guy in a biker's vest and jeans. But I was determined to check it out, ensemble be damned. And what do I see as I'm walking into the place?

An advertisement for a beer dinner. But not just any beer dinner. This one, set for tomorrow night, was featuring Jack's Abby beers. If you know anything about craft beer, Jack's Abby should have already made a few notches on your gut. They make outstanding stuff.

So the Yardley Inn was one-for-one and I hadn't even reached the bar yet. And the bar, an inviting, crescent shaped throwback, oozes history. I learned from the affable Andy (pictured at bottom), a twenty-five year veteran of the YI, that the real bar--from the 1930's--was encased underneath the current one. Andy also advised me that more than one employee has encountered a couple of spirits roaming about the building. Must be in the Yardley water; The Continental Tavern up the road is a ghost magnet.

There had been a tavern on that spot since 1832, and when you see its proximity to the river, you'll understand why. Read a bit about its history here. And watch the little video. Classy place for sure, but there is nothing pretentious about any of the staff. Bar manager Frank and the afore-mentioned Andy couldn't have been friendlier. True, some of the guests eyed me up suspiciously at first, like I was a Baby Ruth in the swim club's pool. But when I told them I wasn't a Hell's Angel--only a Heck's Angel, and not that bad, they seemed to relax.

I asked for a beer menu (hey, I have priorities) and I was mightily impressed with the offerings, confirming, after the Jack's Abby intro, that somebody here knew what they were doing. That somebody is Frank. You can scan the beer menu here, though it has probably been updated since March.

I ordered a "The Kragle" from Free Will, a beer hopped with five different hops--Simcoe, Warrior, Citra, Calypso and Columbus, and it delivered a thirst-quenching, crisp rush of flavor. Frank even told me a story about how the beer got its name--it has to do with Legos--but I'm not going to reveal the secret, because Frank clearly gets a big kick out of telling it.

My food was a soup and half-sandwich, an incredible Filet Mignon Cheesesteak that was certainly big enough to fill me up, and coupled with an amazing Black Bean Soup, I was fully sated. The Kragle handled its duties well. But with that beer list, I bent my "one-beer rule" and had Firestone Walker's Union Jack, which, if I have to tell you about, you need to get out and explore more craft beer, especially if you're an IPA guy.

The Kragle was 6.6% and the Firestone Walker was 7.5%, but the food I consumed nicely counterbalanced the alcoholic content of these two well-made beers. And the bill was just over $20.

The only negative thing about my visit is that I wasn't aware of the Jack's Abby dinner three weeks ago. But that's what you get when you don't explore places because you don't think you'll fit the dress code profile.

If there's good beer and good people, it's a good pub, as long as you behave yourself.

No matter how you're attired.

You'd think I'd know that by now.

Cheers!

The PubScout