Tom B.
Yelp
Hard to believe it's been more than half a decade since this place opened. They've used their time wisely, without a doubt. When they began, they were a wonderfully weird little enclave of beeriness along this tawdry strip of Aurora. After years of perfecting their craft, cultivating a clientele both locally and far beyond the city limits, investing their profits carefully, and stockpiling an OCD-esque retinue of fermented delights to serve not before their time, Über is now...a wonderfully weird little enclave of beeriness along this tawdry strip of Aurora.
They've added to it, certainly, though the footprint inside is still the same. They added the little sidewalk courtyard a couple years ago, and added the planter boxes around the same time. After some unsolicited overnight editorializing from the local Crackhead Gardeners Club, the ambitions of those planter boxes have been scaled back rather markedly, but the pleasant al fresco seating option remains--covered and railed in.
Inside, what used to feel like a kooky house party with a fire table in the middle and big bottle coolers behind the bar now feels like a stylishly kooky house party with a fire table in the middle and big bottle coolers behind the bar. The refined blue on the walls now suggests a tony library at a gentleman's club, so be a gentleman, for heaven's sake. The multi-ton zebrawood beast of a bar suggests locales even more exotic than Aurora ("Where is that wood grown?" "Africa." "Noooo...*zebras* are from Africa. Where is zebra*wood* from?" "Under the ze..." Never mind.). The walnut ceiling-support beam suggests...that spending a butt-ton of extra money on fine hardwoods is worth it sometimes.
Gone are the colossal tap towers that used to protect the bartenders from: archers, trebuchets, and being able to see customers. Well, the Delirium Tremens tower is still there, over the inlaid Scrabble board, but every bar needs a pink elephant on the corner. In addition to Scrabble, you can also play Backgammon under a heavy layer of resin, if you get the right seats.
But what matters most here is the beer. And this beer selection is truly a matter of great import. Hundreds of bottles line the cooler racks, with a fair emphasis on rare and small batch big American beers and a freighter full of bigger (i.e., more alcoholic) European stuff, both classics and newer releases.
There are also tap handles, now bundled together in a phalanx of malty infantry on the back wall, which boasts a luminous interweave of glass subway tiles. Such design flair! ("Yeah, I have the gay gene when it comes to decorating." You just can't make this stuff up. You can only catch people when they're loaded and write it down for blackmailing them later.) What's particularly cool about the tap lineup is the new War-Games-like array of monitors above the coolers, listing all kegs in the order they were tapped, along with the next three on deck. No more scrambling for a little green book, and wondering if you should hurry up and order a given beer in case it might kick before you get to it.
The staff here has been wise and powerful since day one. This shows no signs of abating. I often hate coming in here when it's busy simply because it means less chance to shoot the breeze with them. Or throw a Frisbee.
What no one bar can change, though, is the local color on display outside, along Aurora Avenue North. More than once as I have sipped a tasty beverage here, young ladies have walked back and forth and back and forth past the windows of the establishment. I figured they must have been running errands, or moving, or something, but they were never carrying anything, so it's hard to be certain.
That motorized pageant of humanity, the Metro #358, stops right outside the sidewalk patio here. When a 60-foot limo rolls up, it can easily block every window in the place, making you feel like you're in a dark little cave (well, you are, not even figuratively speaking). When that 358 shadow settles over the room, what you are is an easily-distracted baby seal that just noticed the great white swimming over you and blocking out all your light. Those squealy bus brakes are the hoots of an owl in the dreams of a mouse.
Über is one of the oases in a stretch of road that Seattle forgot. (Not on accident did Seattle forget this scrofulous motorway, either.) There's a bit of character lately to some businesses around here, and there's even a high-end spot across the street (PCC). You can bring in your own food from anywhere, though PCC and Beth's are natural choices, and Aloha Ramen is a personal favorite. There's a book behind the bar somewhere, full of take-out menus. Just ask for it.
Every industry needs places that push to offer the best of everything. Über has very few equals, and no superiors, especially when you count the square footage. You can get lost here. Probably you should. The 358 can always take you...elsewhe