On a map, Skopje, Macedonia, looks small, yet it seems to spread out forever. Maybe it’s the wide streets, or maybe it’s the huge statues and buildings that confuse the perspective. When I arrived on International Stout Day, looking for craft beer, I found myself walking far more than expected in this capital city of 525,000 people.
My Airbnb host must have known this. I told him I could walk, but he insisted on picking me up at the bus station. Quite a kind gesture, considering I was arriving close to midnight. His apartment was spectacular. It was vintage Yugoslav, in the most elegant way possible. A fifth-floor apartment overlooked an urban park. The walls were old rustic paneled wood. Florid hand-knit carpets, in the Macedonian style, covered the floors.
He walked me to a corner of the main living room and flicked on a light switch hidden behind a glass cabinet. The interior lit up and illuminated a collection of vintage European beer steins.
“You mentioned that you want to try craft beer in Macedonia. I collect beer glasses myself. Go to Old Town Brewery.”
Old Town Brewery is Skopje’s first, but not only, craft beer brewery. It takes searching, but there are other nanobrewing spots here, and around the small country of Macedonia.
Here are places to find craft beer in Skopje:
- Beershop Sakam Pivo
- Centar Pub
- Foks Nanobrewery
- Gluvo Kuce Pub (Deaf Dog)
- Kashmir Kafe
- Old Town Brewery
- Pub Porta
- Woodstock Craft Beer & Rock Bar
It was 10:30 at night on a Wednesday. Where could I go?
According to Google Maps’ images, Pub Porta looked craft beery, and they served until midnight. Crucially, it was only 10 minutes from my apartment. I could walk there, celebrate International Stout Day with whatever they had available, then call it a night.
Inside, it looked like an average sports pub with a flourish of Macedonian décor. A soccer game played on the television, and several orange-and-yellow sunburst Macedonian flags and artisan rugs hung on the walls. Next to the bar, one refrigerator had several craft beers and regular beers. There were six taps, including, oddly, an O’Hara’s IPA. This classic Irish Stout brewery makes IPAs now?
O’Hara’s IPA wasn’t much to talk about. Yet, considering the beers available in Macedonia, I enjoyed it. Time to celebrate International Stout Day.
But there were no Macedonian stouts. At least, not at Pub Porta. Surprisingly, I saw Founder’s Breakfast Stout in the refrigerator, and asked for it. The bartender, Bosko (who is also the owner,) was pleased that I ordered, “one of our best.” American craft imports are rare in The Balkans, and when they are in a bar, they are often out of the price range of locals.
“No one orders that American beer. It is too strong, and also expensive.”
Bosko was aware of International Stout Day. We chatted about what craft beers were available in Macedonia and my life (and drinks) in Serbia. At the mention of rakija, Bosko’s eyes light up. He offered me a pour of his family’s homemade rakija, and then an industrial brand, “just to compare,” and another after that, because, why not…
Although Pub Porta closed at midnight, Bosko kept me drinking afterhours until 2 am. Sometimes, Balkan hospitality can be painful.
Back in the apartment, I walked up to the cabinet full of beer mugs. After fumbling for the light switch on the back panel, I found it and flipped it on. There were steins from all over Europe: Germany, France, Sweden, and former Yugoslavia. I wanted to take one out and pour one of the beers I had stored in my suitcase, but they weren’t for me. I was in contact with the owner of Skopje’s first beer shop and had promised him a few good beers.
Tomorrow I am going to Sakam Pivo Beershop.
Sakam Pivo And Skopje’s Beer Geeks
The next morning, after two classes online, I managed a late run in Skopje along the Vardar River. The weather is nice, and it’s unseasonably warm, yet the city looks empty. I learn that it’s a religious holiday, the Orthodox All Saints Day, on November 1st, and many people are attending family gravesites.
When I arrive at Sakam Pivo Beershop at 4pm, the sun has almost set completely. The shop is tiny, no more than 20 by 20 feet. But beers line the walls. Only two patrons sit at a table outside the shop. They are friends of the owner, Marjan. At the moment, Marjan is not in the shop, but his friends invited me to join them while I wait for him to come. A plate with roast chicken and fries is on the table. They tell me to help myself.
When Marjan arrived, I offered him some beers I’d brought from Serbia. In addition to operating the beershop, he is a homebrewer. In exchange for my beers, he offered me a stout which he made for International Stout Day. He is short, dresses eccentrically and has a creased face with tight eyes, probably a result of his constant smiling. We share our beers at the table, and he asks for a photo of us together in the shop, something which he does with all foreign guests. I insist on a good Macedonian craft beer, and he offers me a FOKS Pale Ale, from a nanobrewery named Pivolabs. It tastes like a proper American Pale Ale.
Sakam Pivo Beershop opened in 2006. Like most beer venues in the region, it began by selling imports from countries like Belgium, Germany and Czech Republic. Marjan’s interest in craft beer started when he participated in food and drink workshops around Europe. In 2016, his own organization, Slowfood MK, hosted a workshop in Skopje for food and drink pairings. After that event, they began biannual “Beer Salon” events, which were only recently stopped by the 2020 Covid pandemic.
Later, other local beer geeks join us. One is a liquor and beer importer who owns a café, Kashmir Caffe, which has a good selection of beers. He puts me in contact with Dimo, who is the brewer of the PivoLabs Nanobrewery. We arranged a visit to their location on the following Sunday. Also, he tells me to check out Gluvo Kuce for their beer and food.
“Ask for the manager, Jane, and say I sent you.”
“Jane, like an American girl?”
“No. YAN-eh. He’s a big guy with glasses.”
“Ok, uh. Kanye.”
Gluvo Kuce means Deaf Dog in Macedonian. Perhaps it is a blues song reference, as the place also has live music. There is a small stage next to the bar where bands play every weekend. No band is playing tonight, but the bar is packed and noisy. The atmosphere is positive. I order cevapi with fries, an Ayer Feher IPA from Hungary, then ask the bartender for Jane. He points at a rowdy table in front of the stage.
We make introductions, and, after briefly talking beer, the conversation turns to music. Jane and his friends are into old American country and blues. The band playing the following night, Saturday, does this music. Since I sing Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson and the like, Jane asks me to join the band for a few songs.
Jane left around 9pm, and I continued to the next bar on my map, Center Bar. A search for craft beer bars brought it up. But Center Bar only makes one house lager, which is mediocre. An acoustic duo is performing boring pop tunes. After one beer, I’m ready to leave, but the bartender tells me I should sing with the acoustic duo. “It will something different,” he muses. I join them, sing two tunes, then make my way to another music bar, Rock Bar Garson. The band is good, but I’m fading fast.
In the early morning, I find myself in a punk venue. Some locals took me there, surprised that I liked that music. The music is loud, the venue is dirty and the drinks are cheap. I wish I could remember what it was called.
Old Town Brewery In The Old Town
The next morning, hungover, I walked to Skopje’s Old Town. I wanted to see Old Town Brewery again. On the way there, the city looks new. Although I had been here in 2011, nothing looks familiar in 2021. But when I entered the Old Town, flashbacks hit me. All the cobblestone streets, the old Turkish-looking wooden cafes, and the ridiculously large statues, suddenly brought my memory into focus.
Even in the touristy Old Town, the streets were still not busy. I strolled the length of the center until I reached a large archway that opened into a market square. Here, there were very few Macedonian flags. Instead, Albanian, Turkish and Bosnian colors flew on most of the buildings. This was the mixed Muslim quarter of Skopje.
Finding alcohol would be a challenge, but there must be good Turkish coffee.
After ambling a bit, I found a place called Ottoman Café in the center of a small square. Inside it was tiny. Filigreed metal objects and intricate carpets typical of the old Ottoman empire covered the walls. The owners themselves were from Turkey, and we began chatting in English. They served me an authentic Turkish coffee plate: a gold pot full of rich dark coffee, a cup of sugar cubes, and a piece of rose-flavored lokum, the sweet powdered Turkish Delight.
For hangovers, Turkish coffee does the trick.
Old Town Brewery is in the heart of Skopje’s Old Town. It is Macedonia’s first craft brewery, and I wanted to see how it had changed since 2011. After my coffee, I walked up the narrow cobblestone street to a big wooden building. It is pretty much the same, but on the ground floor, where the stairs meet the highest street, they had added a covered porch that overlooks the cafes below.
The weather is warm, so I found a place outside. The menu is a basic craft beer list: a dark lager, a light lager, common German styles, and a new American IPA. Although Old Town is Macedonia’s first brewery, they haven’t improved much. Only the Weissbier is good.
Previously, I knew a brewer who worked at Old Town. I asked him why, if he was such a beer geek, he didn’t make good beers. He told me that the owner is more concerned with quantity than quality. So he knowingly follows beer recipes with lower amounts of ingredients than required. Most people come to the Old Town for tourism and nightlife, not good beer.
As with many emerging craft beer regions, like The Balkans, until people’s tastes surpass the breweries’ profits, “craft” breweries will continue to make subpar beer.
The next stop was Woodstock Beer Bar. A short bus ride to the Karposh Neighborhood got me there. As the name suggests, Woodstock imitates the world-famous Hard Rock Cafes. Guitars and concert posters cover the walls, and the menu offers food with music-themed titles.
Unfortunately, this craft beer place is not as good as it looked online. Shipping, both in and from outside Macedonia, is tricky. The waitress tells me that the beer fridge is almost empty because their shipment is delayed until, “tomorrow, maybe the day after that, or more.”
Again, I get a craft beer from Hungary, Monyo’s Lazy Pirate Porter, and order a hamburger. Both are good. The waitress tells me the place won’t get busy until after 8pm, so the staff is eating now. She invites me to join them at a table. We made small talk, then, after paying my bill, I returned to Gluvo Kuce.
Gluvo Kuce Rock’n’Roll
At Gluvo Kuce, Jane tells me I will join the band to play some songs after their first intermission. Meanwhile, he suggests I try a local Macedonian craft beer. I comment that I hadn’t seen one in his place.
“Yes, we don’t promote so much, but still you should try.”
The SKO91 is an APA named after Skopje’s old telephone code. The nanobrewery, Demo Pivovar, makes a few craft beers, but they need a while to go before they are competitive with other breweries. Still, I enjoyed it more than any of Old Town Brewery’s beers. After finishing it off, I ordered an export, then went up to join the band for a few Johnny Cash tunes. We were a simple country trio: me on guitar, rhythm on an upright bass, and melodies from a harmonica.
The crowd enjoyed it, and after my set, I was invited by a few locals to drink with them. Rakija began to flow. Eventually, I had to tipsily excuse myself back to Jane’s table.
They were leaving, but one of the fellows, an old rockabilly-dressed cat, invited me to go with him to a club called Marakana.
“It’s your style. Rock, punk, metal, this things.”
Marakana Club, probably referencing Rio De Janeiro’s famous stadium, is next to Skopje’s national stadium, just a 10-minute walk from Gluvo Kuce. When we arrived, a huge line stretched from the street and up a flight of steel stairs to a small entrance. I really didn’t want to wait in a long line. Neither did the rockabilly guy. Aggressively, he elbowed his way through the crowd. I feared a fight but, confused, I followed.
The bouncers at the entrance looked intimidating. But my “friend” approached them, pointed at me, and after they nodded their heads, magically, we were inside. We joined a table of people dressed in similar rockabilly-metal attire. A band played tunes from well-known hard rock bands: Metallica, Iron Maiden, System Of A Down, The Clash…uh, Tenacious D.
Waiting at the table took too long for a drink, so I went directly to the bar. With a beer in hand, I head-banged in front of the band and sang along. A half-hour later, I went back to the table of rockers, but they were gone. With no more craft beer, my night was done in Skopje.
For a guide to craft beer bars in Skopje click: here
