JUSTIN'S TAKE - Until this past weekend, if someone had suggested to me, "Bro, let's hit up Redondo!", I would have replied with "You must be fucking kidding me, right?" Everything I've heard about the place made it sound like a haven for complete assholes and Jimmy Buffett fans who ended up on the wrong coast. After this weekend, I'll admit I was wrong. Redondo Beach is a place for drunks, their families, and single-minded fishermen. Let's address the first point.
Naja's Place is a pretty astonishing bar. It looks like a completely abhorrent joint at first glance, populated as it is with shirtless dudes and overly tanned former sorority girls, crushing each other in the scrum up to the bar as a passably mediocre cover band plays note-for-note covers of Bob Marley and Sugar Ray songs. But we managed to find a spot at the other end of the bar, situated far away from the music and the crowd.
So what's actually good about this place? 88 beers on tap. And it goes beyond the admittedly always-welcome presence of Chimay and Craftsman. They have Allagash Curieux, Duchess de Bourgogne, Delerium Tremens, Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA, Lobotomy Bock, Arrogant Bastard, Boont Amber Ale, and so on. And the numbers aren't padded out with shitty beers, either. Other than Budweiser, Heineken, and a couple of unnecessary others, everything they have on draft is excellent.
The bartender nodded approvingly when Felicia ordered the Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA and the Allagash Curieux, the former for herself and the latter for my dad. Battling a cold and foggy on meds, I wasn't able to drink but instead merely pose with a pint for posterity. There's also something to be said for sitting in a boardwalk bar on a marina, watching people walk by as the sun goes down. After awhile I started to feel like I was in an Eagles song as covered by Sublime, but for some reason I was okay with that. Maybe it was the cold meds?
FELICIA'S TAKE - The noise level is high and people are packed into the place pretty tightly. The crowd contains> drunken older gentlemen who appear to have been sunburned for at least two decades, loud girls with crunchy hair and lower back tattoos, and dudes in patterned board shorts, Ray-Bans and flip-flops high-fiving each other. Nearly everyone appears to be drinking bottles of Corona or Bud Light. Despite my initial disbelief, a UB40 cover band is performing. In short, there are many things about Naja’s that I might normally not enjoy. But I set all these things aside and take a look at the taps.
And here is where I am bowled over. The selection of beers here is pretty stunning – nearly 80 on draft alone, according to the bartender. I’m so excited I can barely decide. I pick out the newly-available-in-California Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA and the semi-rare Allagash Curieux.
I find a seat and drink my beer, which packs quite a wallop. The weather feels just perfect and a mild breeze is blowing in from the sea. I begin to feel a sense of inner peace. All those loud annoying people now seem more like good potential drinking pals, friendly folks just enjoying themselves. I start to sing along absentmindedly to “Red Red Wine” while contemplating whether there is a word for a cover version of a cover version, and I begin to plot my next visit to Naja’s.
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