Review: Servers hop frantically at Hoppy Brewing Co.

by Cody Kitaura

The Hoppy Brewing Co. in Sacramento faces a dilemma any microbrewery must face: Is it a bar, or is it a restaurant? The excellent food and bright interior suggest a restaurant, but the sports pages posted in the restroom and the tragically slow service scream crowded pub.

And that's exactly what the Hoppy Brewing Co. became on Tuesday night. The multitude of TV screens were tuned to election coverage, and the hordes of people in the main eating area let out a cheer every time a state turned their color.

Considering the crowd amassed in the dining area, our wait was relatively short – although one prudent member of our party had actually been on time (and had hence been waiting for the rest of us for a while).

Once we became the waiter's responsibility, we received considerably less attention – perhaps with good cause. Every time an employee wanted to reach one of the inner tables, he or she seemed to have to squeeze sideways and carefully maneuver between one packed table after another. They moved with purpose, and barely seemed to break stride when stopping to fill up waters or remove salad plates.

Browsing the menu, vegetarians or vegans used to having only one or two entrees to choose from will fare a little better here. There's a multitude of seafood options, and anyone with a more strict diet will have about one item from each category to choose from, including the impossibly hard-to-pronounce Capellini Pomodoro ($8.75; $2 more with chicken, $3 more with prawns or crab) – a mouthfull of Italian that seems out of place in a brewpub with a giant, yellow smiley face for a logo.

It came with the standard option of a soup or salad. The raucous crowd made it hard to hear the long list of soups our waiter quickly spat out, so I chose the first one that I could repeat: baked potato. It seemed like a good idea until, a few bites in, a thick slab of bacon floated to the creamy surface (it was my fault for not asking, but the waiter didn't seem to have time for questions).

“Maybe you can get them to give you something else,” a friend suggested. A couple moments later, the nearly full bowl had been whisked away without as much as a passing glance from the busboy.

Eventually, the main courses arrived and it was a moot point. The capellini noodles sat low in a bowl so large it made the portion look diminutive. Steam rose from the bowl of thin noodles, fresh tomatoes and a thin pool of white wine sauce.

The entire mixture of basil, garlic and tomatoes was tangy and bright, but also very light. After a few eager minutes with it, the portion seemed more generous than it did at first. The smooth taste, however, made the pasta disappear relatively quickly.

It might seem sacrilegious to visit a microbrewery and have just water to drink, but a beer didn't seem like a good pairing with a cold and a sore throat – even if they were free to people who voted. This decision too, almost seemed moot, considering the amount of time my glass spent empty.

But maybe it wasn't the waiter's fault. It seemed like he had control over almost half the dining area, which was packed. If it had been split between more waiters, perhaps it wouldn't have taken what seemed like an eternity to receive our separate bills (but then again, perhaps a long delay is to be expected with seven separate checks).

Still, the rushed demeanor of the employees left almost as much of an impression as the garlic, which lingered for hours after our visit.


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