Beer heaven is a place on earth.

Well, I’ve gone and moved into a co-op—more or less. If you’re looking for me, the odds are good these days that you’ll find me at the Black Star Co-op, where the beer selections have names like Recalcitrant Dockhand, High Esteem, Hubris, and—perhaps unsurprisingly—my favorite (in name, anyway), Depths of Despair. The Co-op serves an array of reasonably priced standard pub fare/American comfort food. I am obsessed with the delicious chips and, were it possible, would bathe in the gleaming silver cups of aioli they graciously allow me each time I ask for it, even though it has only been listed on the menu as coming with one of the food items I ordered.

And it comes with an enigmatic location! Upon attempting to locate it for the first time, you will swear you’ve gone astray and found yourself in an apartment complex. But guess what—you’re supposed to be in an apartment complex! Because that’s where Black Star is located. The people who live in that apartment complex are lucky sons-of-guns.

I met Kristina there on a low-key Monday, returned (quite comfortably) by my onesy on a bustling Thursday, and braved a chaotic-but-still-pleasant Friday there with a bevy of library workers. It’s a wide open space replete with an exposed industrial-type ceiling, a red wall, some black chairs, can lighting,  a generally modern laidback vibe, and a back porch where you can shiver on one those rare chilly Austin evenings and watch the trains on the adjacent track go by. You can laugh or cry into your beer, you can come with someone or alone, you can watch people play darts, dress like pirates, wear cool hats, get drunk, dance ridiculously, and—oh, if only—bathe in Black Star’s aioli.

I get the sense that this is a neighborhood bar for a lot of folks—which of course makes sense, given its unassuming apartment complex location—and a destination for a lot of other folks. I hope to come here once a week for inverse happy hour (Monday through Thursday from 9 to 11 p.m.) for as long as it complements my work schedule so nicely, if not my waistline, liver, and wallet (although, as I’ve said, that prices here are astonishingly reasonable).

On Thursday I watched a boy with a skull cap and a copy of the Austin Chronicle tuck into a big, beautiful, six-dollar bowl of macaroni and cheese. I look forward to doing that next time.

Never have I been so tempted to join a co-op—and who knows? I just might.

This refreshing departure from mournful introspection shall soon be derailed by further mournful introspection, no doubt.

Meanwhile, it’s on to further adventures in uncharacteristic beer-drinking (for a wino like me, at least, and I notice that Black Star does also serve wine) at an as-yet unvisited venue tonight!

Also, stay tuned for adventures in Conspicuous Solo Dining at Restaurants Where This is Not Done.