Jealous Monk is fun dining, drinking spot

November 22, 2016 11:00 pm • Last Updated: November 24, 2016 9:26 am

By Rick Koster
Day Arts/Features writer

Chipolte sausage with buttermilk slaw at Jealous Monk. (Rick Koster/The Day)
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As members of arcane and centuries-old clandestine societies, monks are chaste, devout and disciplined, able to make up exotic words like "Vespers" and, as has been proven beyond a shadow of skepticism by Dan Brown, they routinely hide priceless religious manuscripts, artwork and banned necromantic grimoires in cobwebbed sepulchers. As such, we civilians think of them as exotic and, really, pretty cool. Plus, there's that whole beer-making thing they've got going on.

And why not? If you're going to lead a life of impoverished contemplation and devotional supplication, making beer is probably a very good idea. In this spirit, the folks who've opened the Jealous Monk Social Hall & Beer Garden in Olde Mistick Village are onto something.

Located in a spot most recently known as 10 Clams, the Jealous Monk looks exactly like you'd want and expect — if, that is, your idea of a beer hall is based on travel brochure images of Oktoberfest celebrations in the Swiss Alps. It's a large, square room with a handsome arched wooden ceiling, a bar running along the left wall as you enter, tall-top tables in the center, long communal tables with benches on the opposite perimeter, all sorts of available board games and plenty of big screens for sports watching. Outside is a fire pit, a few more tables, and a cornhole layout.

There are no actual monks on-site other than oil portraits of various brothers, friars, cenobites and abbots on the walls, along with calligraphed quotes about beer from such renowned holy inebriates as Steve Jobs and Dave Barry.

Beer IS omnipresent, though. Along with a full bar, there are 23 types of bottled beer; 21 cans; 40 "large format bottles and rarities"; and 32 revolving tap brews ranging from cheap lagers to incredibly exotic recipes from across the globe. You can try, for example, Cascade Brewing's 25.4 ounce Manhattan NW Wild Ale — "spiced Blond Quads aged in Heaven Hill Bourbon barrels on 150 pounds of sour pie cherries for five months before additionally aging on apricot noyaux for three months" — for $50. Let me know how that works out for you.

We visited on a chilly November Friday night, and the place was jammed and loud and suffused with a very happy vibe. There's a small sign as you walk in letting you know the routine: find a seat, peruse the food and drink menu, order at the bar, take your drinks back to your table, and food will be brought to you. This is very European, I'm told, further legitimizing the whole experience. For the most part, this process works and bartenders were quick and friendly throughout. Two aspects for newbies: 1) as the small but intriguing menu is divided between appetizers, salads, sandwiches, house made sausages and Belgian Frites, you might want to work a layered ordering motif so that everything doesn't arrive all at once. And 2) when your visit's over and you're leaving, you might note a chalk board to the right of the door. It's a list of Charcuterie specials that you might have ordered if you'd known the board was there.

We were mostly pleased by our food. Appetizers include varieties of chicken wings and mussels, chicken liver pate and bier cheese with toast points. We sampled the Big A Pretzel ($9), served wonderfully hot and salt-crusted, and it is indeed the size of a platter. It swirls around respective containers of sweet and hot mustard and, for $3 more, a small tub of the bier cheese. It's a beautiful thing to behold, much less to eat. We also tried a "chef's selection" Deviled Egg ($3). This is apparently a "du jour" construct and, our night, they were prepared in "spicy tomato basil" fashion. Though the tomato basil wasn't discernible, there was a sneaky heat to the yolk mixture, and it was a damned good deviled egg.

A simple but winning Kale Kaiser salad ($10) boasted potato croutons which, it turns out, are little cubes of perfectly roasted spud with a crisped exterior and a nice chew. The kale was tender, thin sliced white onion added texture and heat, and the lemon-caper dressing was ideal. It's a meal unto itself.

Sandwiches. There are three house-made sausages ($9) — Bavarian Bratwurst, Polish, and Chipotle — each served with a distinctive slaw or kraut. They're served over greens or, as I selected, nestled in a pretzel roll and anchored by a seductive buttermilk slaw. The Chipotle was outstanding, with a crisp snap upon biting into the tangy link. Beautiful (if pretty small). The Monk's Schnitzel sandwich ($9) fused a fried hunk of pork loin with alpine cheese, onions, sauteed peppers and a smoked chile aioli on a kaiser roll. The flavor combo helped out as the pork was a bit bland. And the Shaolin ($8) was a tasty veggie burger house-crafted from beets, corn and chickpeas and nuanced with a clever apricot-soy jam. The patty could have been on the grill a bit longer, but in the context of area veggie burgers, it's a winner.

Belgian Frites ($6) were amazing; thick-cut and served in a giant paper cone that comes with a remoulade style sauce and the chance, for $2 more, to add any of a number of other dipping sauces. A Morrocan red pepper version added an exotic flair.

Those of us happily surfing the swelling tide of craft breweries and beer-themed pubs and restaurants should be happy to spend time in this most liquid monastery.

Kale Kaiser Salad at Jealous Monk. (Rick Koster/The Day)
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