A couple of days after the beer run in Slaný I decided the weather was nice enough to go have a look at Pivovar Uhřiněves, or rather, Pivovarská, the brewery's restaurant.
Getting there was a piece of cake, a 20 minute ride on a City Elephant train from Hlavní Nádraží that didn't cost me anything extra, as the line is part of Prague's public transport system. From the Uhřiněves station is only a relatively short, though not very pleasant walk, to brewery. (Though it was a bit longer for me. I turned left on Prátelství, the town's main thoroughfare, when I should've turned right—I had last looked at the map two days before, and my memory failed me. And it could've been more pleasant and a bit shorter, if I had noticed the alley just a few meters to the right of the station, that I hadn't noticed on the map, actually).
Based on what little I could find about it, the history of Pivovar Uhřiněves is very similar to Unětický Pivovar's: originally opened in the second decade of the 18th century and closed down in 1949, after being nationalised by the Communist regime, following an attempt to put it back on track after WWII. According to what a friend involved in the project had told me last year, the brewery's resurrection was partly financed by EU funds, and one of the conditions of the grant was that the brewery be up and running, commercially, by November. That deadline was not met (and I wonder how they sorted that out, I will have to ask at some point), and the brewery wouldn't have its official opening until last April.
The first thing that caught my attention when I finally reached the restaurant was its beer garden. Pretty big by Czech standards and a proper garden, with massive chestnut trees and the works; hands down, one of the most beautiful I've seen in this country. Yet, I went to sit inside, because.
Inside was somewhat smaller than I had anticipated. If you come in from the street (and not from the garden, as I did), you are welcome by a fairly spacious taproom. There are two other rooms to the right, and a loft above, closed during lunch time. I grabbed a table in the taproom, near the door, by a window.
The service was flawless and the food, though not memorable, was far from disappointing. I even had spontaneous company at the table: a bloke with his 10 year-old son. He told me he knew the pub before being taken over by Pivovar Uhřiněves (or perhaps, becoming again part of Pivovar Uhřiněves, as it seems to have been originally opened as an outlet of the original brewery), adding thta it was better now. Unfortunately for him, though, he had driven there and had to make do with some nealko pivo, but he was curious about my opinion on the beers, as I believe you are by now.
I started at the lowest echelon of the house's Balling ladder, with Alois 11°; a Světlý Ležák that sits comfortably half way between a Desítka and a Dvanáctka, not only ethylicly but also sensorily. A perfect example of everything that can make a Pale Lager great. I skipped one step of the ladder, to stay in the same chromatic field, and chose Alois 14° as my second course. People who rate and review beers solely on the basis of tasting samples will probably judge this one as bland and boring. However, since most of them don't understand beer all that well, their opinion should be disregarded. It does start a bit bland, yes, but it opens up after a couple of sips and becomes a subtle and fairly complex beauty; almost bi-polar, with a deceiving drinkability contrasted with a sharp edge to remind you what you are dealing with. This is what I imagine a proper Exportbier would have tasted like.
A rung lower in the Balling ladder is Alois 13°, a Polotmavý. Given the bar set by the other two, this one fell a bit short of the expectations. There was nothing technically bad that I could notice, but it lacked the fullness and roundness I enjoy so much in this type of beers. Fortunately, Porter 16° had enough muscle to compensate for its amber sybling's lack thereof. What a beauty this Porter of the Baltic persuasion is! Everything that there is to love about the style, brought to you with panache and skill. It would be perfect if it was available in a full, half-litre portion instead of (only) in 0.4 l; but to be fair, that's not the beer's nor the brewer's fault. Regardless, I sometimes think it is a pity that most Czechs seem to be more willing to drink a dodgy Ejl or ČIPE than an excellent dark lager like this; brewers can hardly be blamed. I guess we have to cherish the few that are around, and support the brewers that make them, instead of running after the latest novelty. Maybe I could start an awareness campaign, with hashtag and all. I even have a name: #BlackLagersMatter or #BLM, for short. Looks catchy.
All in all, coming to Uhřiněves was a good decision. All the good references I had of the brewery—enough to make me break the six month moratorium with new minipivovary—where confirmed. And if you don't feel like making the trip, Pivovar Uhřiněves has a pub in Vinohradská, but I haven't checked that one out yet.
Pivovar Uhřiněves – Pivovarská Restaurace
K sokolovně 38 – Prahe-Uhřiněves
+420 267 711 949 – firstname.lastname@example.org
Mon-Sat: 11-24, Sun: 11-23
PS: I've actually checked out the place they have in Vinohradská. It's quite OK, and the beers are in top form, at a good price.