Oil and water. Hatfields and McCoys. Beer and China. Give me three things that don’t go together. Life in China can be challenging at times for those pretentious expats that look out of their monocled eyes and down their noses at a piss-colored glass of Tsingtao. Mostly because it’s the best brew on offer in a typical Chinese bar, restaurant or supermarket.

What’s a beer snob to do? The expat bars are a step up, but lets be honest – if you don’t live in a civilized place like Beijing or Shanghai, you’re trading Tsingtao and Harbin Beer for Carlsberg and Heineken. Maybe Guinness, if you’re lucky. Daqing is no different. And so, I lament over the lack of IPAs, deplore the deficit of stouts and pine for the possibility of a decent ale.

Enter Homey (aka The Pig Bar)

That was a month ago. I’ve been saved. If you take a walk down Daqing’s 6th Street, you’ll see…well, Walmart. Look closer, and you’ll spot the silhouette of a pig beside a single, shady-looking door with a single Chinese character: 宅 (homebody).

It’s not exactly a door you would open alone, late at night, but the ethereal glow of quality beer that I had been promised earlier practically seeped through the cracks. That, and a shit-ton of cig smoke. Welcome to any enclosed space intended (or not) for people in China. I opened the door.

It’s warm inside

I’m greeted by another pig and the motto of the bar, which couldn’t be more perfect: “Boring city and happy you.” Daqing is quite boring and this bar is making a claim that you will be happy here despite that.

It’s not that big inside, and I like that. There’s a single table to my left, further down is the bar and further still is a large lounge area with sofas and a few chairs. It’s not dissimilar from a shoebox. The size perpetuates a pub atmosphere that I prefer to the bar/club hybrid that other pretenders in Daqing aim for.

There’s enough space to be with your group while it’s just intimate enough to share in any moment that happens throughout the bar. In the icy grip of Heilongjiang winter, this will be the place to be.

The booze is good

I walk over to the bar to see what’s what, and I need to rub my eyes at first. I thought that the Duvel label was some sleep stuck in my eye from this morning. When I saw Chimay (red, blue and yellow) and Westmalle, I said “Is that, is that…” It was. On the top shelf was a bottle labeled “Delirium” adorned with a pink elephant. I make a mental note.

Using BeerAdvocate as a reference, Homey carries five “outstanding” beers as well as five “world-class” brews, including Trappistes Rochefort 10, which rings in at an impressive, perfect 100. The only critique that I could give the selection is that you don’t have much variety with all of the Belgian dark ales, but I can hardly complain.

If beer isn’t your thing, you will not be disappointed. A passing glance to the right side of the bar reveals a wide variety of any spirit you desire, including the green faery. I had no idea a single bottle of absinthe existed in Daqing. It was, unsurprisingly, quite full.

The bartenders are awesome

Any quality bar requires a knowledgeable and passionate tender, and compared to Daqing’s slim pickings, Hu has a PhD in booze. He offers the correct glass for your Trappist ales and slides you a Harbin Beer in it’s deserved container: the bottle. Do you want a margarita? A mojito with fresh mint (a rarity for Daqing, especially in winter)? He’s your guy.

I asked him why he wanted to open a bar like this in a place that doesn’t seem to have an affinity for good booze. He simply replied: “Um…I like drinking.” Me too. After talking for a bit, Hu reaches under the counter and brings up a crate containing an assortment of unlabeled bottles. “My beer.”

Consider me floored. This guy had brewed a pretty impressive stout, definitely beating standard Guinness into the ground at the very least. I felt like hugging him. Hu saved me from a dull existence in a barren wasteland populated by swill that can barely pass as adjunct lagers. I love you, Hu…okay, moving on.

Do whatcha want

Looking to get away from the constant onslaught of Top 40 on repeat that comes standard with the expat bar scene? As long as you don’t hijack the evening, Hu welcomes you to pop back behind the bar to share some of your preferred tunes. You are allowed one “Get Lucky”. That’s all.

After putting on some Queen and plopping down on the sofa with a Delirium Tremens (which was exquisite, btdubs) the gang agrees that we are collectively hungry, and need a good, absorbent base of food to saddle down all of the high-gravity deliciousness that would soon ensue. Solution: place a delivery order from the bar.

Minutes later, we have some xihongshi chao jidan and gong bao ji ding at our table, ready to be ravaged. The best part? The bar pays for the food upfront and simply adds the cost to your tab. Pretty damn convenient for lazy drinkers.

I be smokin’

After pointing out some of my all-time favorites from his encyclopedia of beer, Li, Hu’s partner in crime, reaches beside her chair for a plastic container. This is China, so I was fully prepared for anything. Monte Cristo, Romeo y Julieta, Macanundo…and then another word: Habana. She was busting out some Cuban cigars.

As an American, this was a big deal. The childish embargo my government has kept against Cuba since the Cold War (despite China being a major economic partner) makes these things harder to get than weed. And also, it’s still illegal for me to smoke them outside of the US…so all I will say is that they, um, looked very nice. And the smell was exquisite. But I definitely, totally have no idea what they taste like. I suppose that’s nice, too. You know, if I were to hypothetically think that’s a stupid, unenforceable law and smoke one anyway.

This is home

We decided to close down Homey. It’s a place that, even with a full night out planned; I have no desire to leave once I’m there. It turns a beer-lover into a homebody. There you go. It’s got the perfect name. But all good things must come to an end. Hu was going out anyway on a late-night food run for Li, so he gave us a lift. As a dark Daqing swirled outside the passenger window, I had a crushing realization: I will soon be poor.