A weekday afternoon pint of ‘Bing to the Bong’ at Division Brewing in Downtown Arlington.
I ventured into the industrial building for a pint. It was one of those places that you wouldn’t know it was a brewery, unless you knew. And I knew. The dimly lit taproom was a pleasant reprieve from the bright sunlight moments ago.
I was in the mood for something dark but unsure what to order. The barman offered a sample of the ‘Black I’—a dark IPA. I’ve had this one before and it’s a rare misfire for me. It looks like a stout but tastes like an IPA, and the novelty wears off fast. I didn’t turn down a free sample, though. Still undecided, I noticed a “FRESH” sign on an IPA called ‘Bing to the Bong.’
“This one’s chewy,” said the barman as he handed another sample to me. It sounded funnier than he intended, and a couple of people nearby, including another employee, were a bit perplexed.
“Chewy?” someone repeated, unsure if he heard him right. No one answered and the question hung in the air, soon lost to the hum of the beer cooler.
Surprisingly, it was much better than expected, and I ordered one. I don’t know if it was ‘chewy,’ or what that means exactly, but I suppose it was thicker and fuller than most beers, requiring a bit more thoughtfulness and contemplation. It had substance.
Beer in hand—in their squatty glassware I like because it fits nicely in your claw—I wandered out to the patio, one of the few places around with one. Three older drinkers were at one table off to the side, but the rest of the tables were empty. Just the way I like it.
I settled in and took a sip of beer, letting the warm spring breeze engulf me. North Texas has some pleasant weather, though it’s not always aligned with the calendar. Late March is usually decent, and today paired especially well with the local firewater. I hoisted the glass to inspect; the liquid a rusty copper color matching the nuts-and-bolts vibe of the taproom and patio.
‘Bing to the Bong’ on the patio at Division Brewing
Another sip. Damn, that’s crisp and refreshing. It had a nice bite. And maybe it was a tad chewy. It was exceptionally mild for an IPA with little of the traditional floral, piney, or citrus junk that are in so many others. Some breweries apparently get off on how much IPA-inspired gloop they can cram into a keg, while others have more self control. I usually avoid IPAs, but this one is different. I noted that traditionally IPA snobs probably wouldn’t like it, which made it even more satisfying.
A few minutes later, the owner walked passed and we shook hands.
“How it’s going, Jason?”
“Good, Wade. How you doin’?”
Though never having officially met him before, he somehow knows my name, and I like that. I often see him when I’m there and he makes a point to say hello. It’s good to be a regular. I felt like Norm at Cheers.
As I was finishing another pint of the ‘Bing to the Bong,’ the sun had started to drop a little and the shadows were getting longer. A few more people were scurrying about, some carrying beer, some carrying pizza. The warm breeze shifted and caught the aroma of both—a blend of pizza crust, pepperoni, malt, hops—and I debated on lingering, as I wanted another beer and now wanted a pizza, but it was time to hit the trail.
Blog post by Jason S. Sullivan, 03-25-26
Jason S. Sullivan 