6th November 2023
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Why was I there?
Recently, I found myself on the continent for my mandatory modern language year abroad in the Spanish city of Alcalá de Henares. It is a quaint Spanish city in almost every sense imaginable, the central plaza, the medieval architecture, and of course the government mandated beers in the sun. The sun however, seemed to evade my rather nocturnal lifestyle, and between lectures in a language I barely understood, and the very much deserved siestas between 2 and 5pm, I did very often find myself delving headfirst into the nightlife of this sleepy old town.
It was on a Thursday night all those moons ago where I once again felt the urge to pound my liver into submission with hand pulled cervezas and dangerously unmeasured mixed beverages. What other place to do such a thing as Café Rock Louisiana? The vibe inside can surprisingly be compared to some of our less windowed bars in Liverpool such as The Pilgrim (RIP, we all know it’s not the same anymore) and as a man who looks spectacularly horrid with too much natural light on his face, I deeply appreciate the darkness of this boozer. Louisiana (for short) forms part of the gaggle of Spanish rock bars which seem to appear very frequently across the peninsular. If you are not familiar with this concept, I can only describe it as the feeling that they have been created by a landlord who has maybe seen a Nirvana t-shirt once and then ran with that vibe to make a pub. Dear reader, I am sure you know the feeling of a pint in Spain as you sit on the terraza, but Louisiana my friends is a far, far shout from our British touristic view of this country.
The “Vibe” Inside and the Drinks du Jour
It is a dingy place with crime and vagabondery dripping from the ceilings. Aside from the constant threat of a geopolitical discussion with a local turning very sour very quickly, I could not help but fall in love with this cathedral of cerveza that I found myself in. I’d like to start with the almost pure comedy of the prices in this place, because as I would sit there with the other students from the Erasmus course, my eyes tended to be drawn to the seductive sign hanging above the bar which stated “2 copas por €8”. This roughly translates in English to “we are going to give you two drinks the equivalent of about half a bottle of rum for about six quid”.
To tell you what tapped beers are on offer will leave me with a comically short paragraph, so I will do that now. Amstel. (this is of course unless you drink bottles in the pub, and in that case, I hope you to stop reading now, I hate you)
Due to the miserable old sod that I have come to be over these past years of my undergraduate degree, I was sat in the corner with my equally elderly new Irish friend watching the rest of us play darts and table football on one particular occasion. If any of the darts society come across this review, I urge you to look away now (that is if you can read and understand more than the numbers from 1 to 180). The dart boards in Spain are an affront to the ozone layer as they are all entirely plastic, and with euro operated machines which do the counting for you, they WILL strike the fear of God into any darts players over 50 called Dave (or another name for that matter). The table football on the other hand, is actually quite a welcome addition to this pub, even if it takes out room for at least two much needed extra tables. I can remember my first time playing against the locals which almost ended in tears due to my passion for the aforementioned table game and my subsequent 11-0 humiliation. But this humiliation was no fault of my own at all, and was rather the fault of… The Kamikaze.
I will dedicate this section of my review to my favourite part of this hidden beer temple, The Kamikaze. The rather politically incorrectly named Kamikaze is like that ex that you can’t escape, no matter how much they hurt you, you just can’t help but go back to them every time you need a little bit of loving. It is a drink that costs a whopping €9 for two which may seem steep for a country as alcoholically economic as Spain. But dear reader, I assure you, with the sheer amount of vodka, triple sec and lime cordial that we find in such a devilish concoction, €9 for two of these naughty little beverages is more than an acceptable offer for a thirsty student such as myself. I would frequently sit and ponder as I finish off my first of these bright green booze juices, “who will I drunk call tonight, my friends? My mother? The archduke of Canterbury?” Whoever will be hearing from me tonight will be hearing from me with a little helping hand from this Lovecraftian cocktail. Yum.
The Food
I suppose I ought to mention the food here as a final thought, mainly because any of the English-speaking Spaniards who come across an article about a bar in Spain without mention of their food will likely string me up to their nearest olive tree. They offer a wide range of… hot dog and frozen pizza. Though these offerings are not the most eclectic, after a couple of Louisiana’s magic fighting juices, the layman would not exactly find themselves complaining about this rather lacklustre offering in a country which tends to pride itself on their cuisine. There is a more than agreeable offer of €3 hotdogs all night, every night, and in a nation whose kebab shops appear to shut at about 10pm, I will take all I can get.
Final Thoughts
I will rate this bar at a solid 7/10. What more is there to say, not only is the smoking area of this place a language student’s wet dream (in relation to talking the local’s ear off in broken Spanish), the inside is pretty respectable too. It was a hugely enjoyable year in Alcalá from what I can piece together, and I hope to one day return to this dingy booze paradise in the Spanish capital.
Hemley recommended
For more food and drink, please click here:
https://www.liverpoolguildstudentmedia.co.uk/category/food-drink
