Taming the Beast

| 17 Feb 2015 | 02:02

    Beast

    638 Bergen Street (Vanderbilt ave)

    718-399-6855

    Brooklyn's Prospect Heights is a district of brownstones, babies and displaced Park Slope ladies. I've lived there for three years, over which time gunshots have grown scarcer than three-dollar-a-gallon gas. Increased safety breeds a resident boom, and these newcomers thirst for more than bodega beer and fried chicken served through a bulletproof window.

    In response, Vanderbilt Avenue, Prospect Heights' main drag, welcomed tavern Soda, followed by wine bar Half. Yet the middle ground-a trifecta of decent food, drinks and refined atmosphere-went unclaimed until Beast arrived in February, helmed by Debbie Bicknese and Megan Fisk, former chef at the Slope's organic stalwart Rosewater. Beast's m.o.-stiff drinks, microbrew beer and tapas (a fancy term for European-size entrees)-was engineered for a local clientele. But unexpected lauds from the New York Times and New York attracted review-following swarms like mosquitoes to a young girl's ankle.

    Hype builds. Hype kills. In the beginning, Beast wasn't ready for prime time. Short ribs tasted like bubble wrap and lamb skewers were sometimes tougher than shoe leather. Inconsistency caused diners to buzz onto the next big thing. Beast reassessed. Beast got better. It's under these refined auspices, seven months after opening, that we find a dependable, and sometimes excellent, bar-restaurant, albeit one with well-intentioned, yet misguided décor.

    Beast's inspiration is less carnivorous than medieval-stained glass and plenty of gargoyles hanging from walls, sitting on board games, propping open doors like surly teenagers working a hated summer job.

    The room is fleshed out with red leather banquettes, TVs showing beastly movies (such as Jaws) and a Tapper video game (goal: pour beer fast!). An iPod provides a soundtrack of Postal Service, Moby and Built to Spill, completing the eclectic, anachronistic concoction. Not anachronistic enough, in my book. If you're going medieval, go medieval: spiked iron maiden racks and Gregorian chants for all!

    Still, interior-decorating snafus are cured with dim lighting, friendly service and good deals. And Beast's double-headed happy hour is bar none. From 4 to 7 p.m., and again from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m., $3 drafts and well drinks lubricate and bookend the evening. Select from stellar drafts (like Blue Point Toasted Lager, Brooklyn East India Pale Ale and Leffe Blonde, $4 or $5 other times) or several dozen quartinos (about a glass and a half of wine) if fermented grapes are your bag. Better yet, the budget-conscious can chug $2 cans of Rheingold and, naturally, the Beast-Milwaukee's Best.

    Hallelujah! Praise be, Bacchus! Someone's following my boozy gospel: offer high-end brew, yes, but toss the penny-pincher a $2 beer. Profit margins may not be marvelous-or they could be higher, for Milwaukee's Best retails for $5 a 12-pack-but take Chinatown: Street vendors sell $1 lo mein cartons by the hundreds. Low-rent drinkers will make up cost in quantity.

    Speaking of victuals, I must offer a warning: Beast's are not pub-grub prices. Nor is it greasy grub scarfed while watching big men chase little balls. Beast delivers expertly prepared tapas (given their Continental scale, though, the especially hungry may want to order double). Blue Point Lager?braised short ribs ($12) are tender enough to eat with a spork. Citrus-marinated skirt steak ($13) is kicked up with chipotle, sitting on a corn-fritter cushion. Breaded Parmesan potatoes ($7) are a perfect, layered artery-clogging square. It's like your taste buds dropped a tab of E.

    Like the food, Bicknese's hospitality is first-rate. One evening, a drizzle fell on our sidewalk-café seat; a server rushed outside with an umbrella and provided a bowl of cayenne-dusted almonds to apologize for the celestial intrusion. On another occasion, when a gaggle of friends were celebrating some trivial event, like Thursday, our party was gifted a gratis bottle of anise-flavored after-dinner liqueur.

    "Drink up," she said, placing shot glasses around the table. "Remember: it's not for quick shots; it's to sip and enjoy."

    That statement sums up Beast. It's a classed-up, quirky local that's supremely hangoutable, a place to savor and prove to relatives that you don't live on the wrong side of Flatbush Avenue. Weekends bustle, but on weeknights you and friends can gather moss as the hours grow as small as the price of a pint you don't need, but somehow seem as indispensable as the bar itself.