It's a seductive concept, isn't it?: Beer. Revolution. A revolution about/for/in the name of/powered by beer. Uzis packed with hops. A tipsy, burpy army storming the White House. The formerly mild-mannered brewers of America forming a bearded militia, ready to take this country back. The mental images alone are worth the price of admission, but Beer Rev is so much more. Namely: forty-some-odd beers on tap, more than one hundred in coolers lined up against the wall, and not a Coors in sight. This is, of course, where local hop-heads go to geek out over brewing techniques and limited-edition beers and notes of caramel and oak; where reading off the massive chalkboard menu has swiftly become the closest thing many secular Oaklanders have to a Hail Mary; where amateurs and experts alike are eagerly guided through the massive selection by a sage and sample-happy bar staff; and where happy locals gather at all hours of the day to share a beer and soak up the sun on the bar's endlessly pleasant front patio. But it's also a place where beer — long overlooked as a craft product — has been elevated to an art form. It's, well, revolutionary.
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