Despite titular evidence to the contrary, there is no char-grilled beef at this Kensington dive bar, though there are cups of stale pretzels, arbitrary hot trays full of something, and mediocre, but cheap beer. Most notable for being very, very close to the Church Ave. F stop, this noble dump has been around since 1975. With its brick arches and wrought window gates, the interior looks like Beowulf's mead hall, modernized with flourescent lights, LOTTO machines, and an always-in-use billiards table smack in the center. Though the bar lacks a Grendel to eat up its patrons, commenters on Yelp have debated its level of "rape-y"-ness. The clientele is primarily composed of men; the locals are friendly; the game's always on; and the drinks are cheap—this bar could be anywhere in America. Although this corner bar's beer selection is similar to that of a college party—all low-cost domestics—for what it is, an old-man neighborhood bar, it'll more than do.
Picnics with a view, roller-skating nostalgia, and a party for gay headbangers.