Union Bear: Denton's Guilty Bougie Pleasure

By Rob Curran

Don’t judge me for loving Union Bear. Because you were there, too, on Friday night. I saw you. Everyone who ever lived in the Denton city limits was at Union Bear last Friday night, judging by the parking lot, and we were all loving every bougie, fancypants moment of it.

It’s the kind of restaurant-bar-brew pub you usually find in a hotel in New York or L.A., a place where even the pool table is newly carpeted. Or, in Plano, where Union Bear started. Union Bear calls the airy chic decor “West Coast feel.” (My feel was: Plush leather booths! Varnished tables! Tasteful light fixtures! Did someone chloroform me and take me three hours on the A train to Uptown Dallas?)
It’s also quickly become the place where Dentonites of a certain age go to not be seen. We tell each other we are going to check out the latest industrial-jazz ensemble at Rubber Gloves, but our tattered Vans walk themselves to the former site of the Armadillo Ale Works on South Bell instead (there’s a tiny armadillo looking servilely towards the voracious bear on the hip black exterior, as if to say “tiny shoutout to the OG Brew Pub!”) Inside, it’s almost hard to believe how put-together and well-proportioned everything is. This is a building that wears a crowd well. Yes, there are long wait times for the booths and high-top tables, but when your wait is spent in the ample lounge and patio area, shooting pool, throwing bag and drinking cheap beer, well, let’s just say the people of Gaza will not be shedding tears for you.

To say Union Bear is a change from Armadillo Ale House is like saying the Mexico City cathedral is a change from the pyramid that preceded it. The Armadillo felt like a cavernous monastery frequented by remote-work scribes, writing up incredibly long WiFi passwords instead of illuminated manuscripts, often in silence. There was something about the space that seemed unfillable. You felt like a Liliputian in Gulliver’s pub. The feel was West Coast of Brobdingnag. The beer was served in a can, or rather acquired from the barperson in a can because they were not about to walk the length of that warehouse to set it on your rough-hewn monk table. It was at a predecessor brew pub, Audacity, where I met someone with a pet hedgehog. But I feel like the hedgehog hung out at the Armadillo (maybe it was the tiny mammal vibe I was picking up on).

Everyone in Denton professed to love Armadillo Ale House, but the parking lot was usually conspicuously available. People brought their Armadillo Ale to parties but not as many partied at the Armadillo Works.

Still, pour one out for the Works. It was one of hundreds, if not thousands, of beloved bars and restaurants around the U.S. that could not make it through the pandemic.

Going out to fancy places, of course, is a kick all of its own. It’s comfort food for those who have chosen the grungy alternative to the aspirational-suburban life. Denton has had Queenie’s for years, of course, to get that bougie fix. But Union Bear is affordable bougie.

You might call the cuisine at Union Bear haute casual. I started with an Old-Fashioned and that reassuringly lived up to its classic name and recipe. I switched to New England IPA for the second round. Union Bear brews the beer for 18 of its 19 taps, said General Manager Alex Moon, who has lived and worked in town for 22 years. The New England IPA is one of the “pilot taps” that are tried out temporarily but are likely to rotate.

Mainstays include the Mexican lager, which won a gold medal at the Texas Craft Brewing awards and a bronze medal at the World Beer Cup, held recently in Las Vegas, and the house stout, which won a silver medal at the U.S. Open of Beer.
The No Coast IPA is reportedly strong, too. I saved the best beer for last, capping the buzz off nicely with a New Zealand Pilsner that was stone-cold killer. It was a Goldilocks beer, neither too heavy nor too light, with a little twist of berries that reminded me of the genius British summer drink, the Lager top.

The beers are a pittance: a flight of four glasses cost one source $8. You wouldn’t get half a banana milk at a smoothie chain for that price. At the Bear, they even pour your beer and bring it to your table. Cawwwwm on! as they say in Cowboy Denton.

The kitchen nailed it just as accurately as the brewers. The burger had the kind of sense-memory juiciness that will make me cry if I ever go vegetarian. The Brussels sprouts slaw is a zingy new take on the vegetable. I never thought I’d get tired of roasted sprouts but I’m kind of tired of roasted sprouts. I’ve heard good things about the spicy shrimp on the breakfast menu.
Union Bear chose Denton for its second location, much more extensive in both square footage and brewing capacity than the original, partly because of the opportunity with the vacant brewery.

But also:
“Denton’s a great blossoming community and we wanted be in the heart of it,” said Moon.

The gamble seems to have paid off handsomely. Union Bear is officially Denton’s favorite bougie pleasure.

“Everything’s blowing and going,” said Moon.