Mother Kelly's Stratford

Craft Beer Paradise with Welcoming Staff

My recent venture to the East Village gem, Mother Kelly's, was akin to a reunion with an old friend who's just matured into something quite lovely – more character-driven and steeped with a passion for craft beer than ever. Aside from the new manager who could occasionally throw a metaphorical spanner in the works with a chilly disposition, the seasoned bar wizards do well to maintain the amiable atmosphere. They’re quick with levity, eager laughs, and pour recommendations dripping with relish, especially if you lean towards one of their 30 rotating taps of divine nectar. It's like stepping into a labor of love for hops enthusiasts, less pub grub glory and more a cathedral of brews with just the right hint of kitsch; you’re bound to find flavors you never knew existed.

While some fellow patrons did remark on waiting time for your burned-toast cravings, I was far too entranced by a pilsner so crisp Butler-Adams might commission a folding bike route to its very source. Each visit is pinned with the kind of live wire vibe that would make even a regular evening quiz at Wednesday a poetry slam of sorts. Sure, the decor squints stoically in favor of undesirable charm, slap-dash bare as it spruces itself amongst the bracing ledgers of new builds. Yet there’s something inherently comforting in knowing that when you’ve become one with the delicate quilt of temptations that is Mother Kelly’s beer menu, you’ll cherish every swig in convivial self-indulgence each docking moment anew. — Milo Tastemaker