Experience Best of Times, Wurst of Times at Iron Hill Brewery and Restaurant in Phoenixville, PA
Foodies will pretty much follow anything that leads to food.
Story, photos by Sharon Kozden
Achtung! Attention, that is and full disclosure: I’m apparently intolerant of craft brews, which I discovered at the wurst of times, namely Oktoberfest. This would ordinarily be of no concern; however and just prior to learning of my sensitivity to these more potent beers, I accepted an assignment at Phoenixville, PA‘s Iron Hill Brewery & Restaurant. Did I mention the event was a celebration of Oktoberfest (clearly not a big month for beer consumption)? To compound the irony, I reside in Phoenixville, where such boozy establishments saturate the Borough.
Since I’d never encountered an issue when sipping, say, a Coors Light at a ballgame, I had no reason to suspect that imbibing such specialty adult beverages would be at odds with my constitution. The actual dining experience was more than fine; it was the following day that validated my “affliction.” But enough about my body’s artisanal-beer dysfunction. Herewith, Oktoberfest in the ‘Ville at Iron Hill …
Iron Hill Brewery’s building sports a simple, solid red-brick exterior, providing a perfect backdrop to highlight the focal points of several imposing fermenters on window-front display. These machines become even more impressive in close proximity. I wanted to ask just how they produced their hoppy, frothy elixirs; however, I was more in need of food than knowledge, so I introduced myself and was immediately whisked to a table by my friendly hostess.
Either I’m boring (hush, peanut gallery!) or merely loyal to my preferences; my starters were chicken wings and a margarita. I tweaked the usual by a hair’s breath, ordering my usual straight-up margarita with a twist … an orange-infused version replete with an orange citrus slice. It was one good ‘rita; however, I did miss my go-to classic style. But the wings … ah! Plump and done to perfection, I opted for a 50-50 mix of sauces, one standard buffalo, the other a fiery chipotle. My server assured me it was not as all-fired fiery as I’d imagined. Both sauces coated the tasty buggers with the just-right amount of sauce. Soaking them in soupy-saucy excess ruins everything, particularly the presentation.
The place filled quickly with patrons; however and aside from the menu, there were no over-the-top displays of the partying traditions practiced in Munich, Bavaria or Germany. Unless it happened at the bar, I don’t recall seeing steins, lederhosen or any barmaids in cutesy dress. None called me Frau Sharon. The 2018 16-day folk fest ranged from 9/28 to 10/14, my tail-end October 13th visit possibly coincided with a wind down of the shenanigans (is there a German “concept” word for shenanigans?). My own fest that evening was really about foodstuffs and das bier. Fine by me. For all I know, I was there a day or so too late to have witnessed the typical aforementioned antics.
The “Feast for a Fest” menu featured many entrees I couldn’t pronounce. They lost me after sauerkraut. But it was all there: Schlachtplatte, Jeagerschnitzel, Hackbraten and more. They served the full monty of bratwurst, knockwurst, pork loin, pork and chicken cutlets and German meatloaf. Can’t forget the red cabbage! Beer-infused condiments such a beer mustard along with ale and lager-enhanced ingredients complimented all. The seasonal touch was evident as well in the soup (apple and butternut squash) and dessert (apple bread pudding) and a salad topper of apple vinaigrette.
May I fully disclose once more? I spied a platter of barbequed ribs in passing and figured that, since they were pork ribs with pork popularly featured on the Oktoberfest menu, I could kill two birds with the proverbial single stone. Wait: I love birds. Why aren’t people protesting the use of the phrase? But I digress … back to the other white meat. Ordering the ribs meant I was still Oktoberfest-compliant. Meat? Done to perfection. Sauce? Liberally applied … no pork swam in the River Sauce. Sides of fries gotten right (a fine art!) … crisp, tasty, fresh and not a lone limpy-loo. The coleslaw had a unique taste; however, I was at a loss to discern the atypical but flavorful and savory ingredient. I did order the gorgeous apple-centric dessert, which I took home (along with a portion of the massive rib-rack}. My Maine Coon Kai-Kai and his doll-faced Himalayan “sister” kitten decided they were invited to my mid-night ribs-picking snack. But then they invite themselves to pretty much every movement I make. Tee.
The bar area featured an armada of beer tabs, and this is when I actually put the fest in my Oktober. Since I’d never tasted a single craft brew, I opted for the four-sampler taster-a quadruple threat of the Philly Special, Lemon Curveza, Ultra and Das Boot. I sipped a wee bit of each; all were unique in taste. Since this was my first encounter with anything more than Stella Artois, Coors or the like, I can only relate that they made non-craft beers literally pale in comparison on every level. While they were all very smooth going down, I soon realized they didn’t care much for me. No serious alarm bells went off; however, a bit of facial warming and redness (akin to a niacin flush) commenced. On the morning after, this card-carrying morning person slept the following day until noon and felt an “off,” slightly spacey feeling the balance of that day.
In no way am I deterred from dining again and again at Iron Hill Brewery. The establishment prides itself on its first-rate, generous-portioned food and drinks, excellent service and an uber-friendly staff. The prices are just right as well. I departed, toting a gift of a four-pack of 16-ounce Oktoberfest lager, pleasantly surprised by the sweet gesture. I paid it forward by necessity to a neighbor, who was grateful for my generosity. Yep: that’s me, generous to a fault.
After one visit, you’ll no doubt want to return to this popular joint. While my brew intolerance won’t prevent me from 2019’s festing. I’ll simply raise and click my stein to yours, only mine will contain something less potent, say iced-tea. I can still remain happy … just not hoppy.
Ich bien ein Iron Hill Brewery repeat patron!
Phoenixville may be awash in breweries; however, Iron Hill Brewery needn’t be concerned about competition.
Brewery fermenter tanks in front window are eclipsed by brilliant sky.
Just inside, the thirst-piquing fermenters are on display.
A twist on my usual standard opening margarita … a bit of something orange-juice like. Different and not bad.
A 50-50 mix of chicken wings with standard buffalo sauce and fiery chipotle sauce. Delish dish.
Many choices comprise the mouth-watering Oktoberfest menu offerings.
No explanation needed why Iron Hill Brewery fills early and quickly with patrons. It’s that good.
No: it’s not a brewski assembly line; it’s tap-proof of the volume and variety of beers to discover and quench your thirst.
Truth told: I’m not much of a beer fan; however, this sample tray is so dang cute. Your server will educate you on all their “hoppy” details.
Not to take anything away from the awesome Kraut menu; however, cravings are called cravings for a reason.
Savory BBQ spare ribs weren’t drenched in sauce, and they were gorgeous. Excellent sides complimented well.
Iron Hill Brewery’s promise to its patrons is the truth, signed and delivered.
Long view of patio front looking out on Bridge Street, the ‘Ville’s main drag.
I was genuinely impressed by my thoughtful parting gift. Good beer, good people.
