hen it comes to nightlife, most brew pubs are a junk drawer of kitsch that, save for a few quality beer-centric ones, provide hours of amusement as empty as the calories in a pint of Hoegaarden.

So, it was with a bizarre sense of optimism that a few of us trekked up to the quietest of the lot, The Abbot on the Hill. And as it turns out, the Abbot turns is precisely the sort of bar that other chicklet-pubs should aspire to be: it's clean, fun and even a little disruptive at times. What choice did we have but to stick around and spend the night shot-gunning beers?

The Abbot is a shimmer of oak and cherry wood curves that wrap the narrow two-level seating and exhibition grazing area like sandwich spread. With AOTH’s brewing hardware on display behind the bar, the motif plays off the brewpub theme, with a cottage-like décor.

Open Bay windows line the front, looking onto a Yonge Street forest full of post-work passersbyes. On the second floor, there are tables for dining with a view of said street. Not a great view, but if you want to eat - go upstairs; it's quiet and conversation is audible. For drinking purposes, it’s best to stay downstairs and blend with the gadflies with the open ties and work clothes.

With impressive brews and smart service, AOTH succeeds in making a scene: not an über-scene, but a Summerhill-type scene. Like a Brit pub should do, The Abbot is a hub of social interaction. At cocktail hour, this place vibrates with energy, becoming so noisy that one patron told me, and she said it unaware of any irony, "I feel like I'm at one of those downtown bars."