Two beer lovers join forces to create Northern Liberties’ newest watering hole.

On the coziest corner of Northern Liberties’ shiniest block stands a taproom. "Taproom" used to be a derogatory term, a sign that rum-dums and goofballs inhabited your peanut-shelled hole, drinking Ortlieb’s.

From its white brick front to its wood-grained insides, what brewmaster William Reed (late of Samuel Adams Brewhouse) and chef Paul Kimport (former server at Striped Bass, bartender at Love Lounge) — the owners and designers of ST — are doing is taking "tap" into the restaurant/bar present without removing it from its classic anti-stance.

"That’s what Standard Tap is," says Reed, "a sort of anti-concept bar. We wanted a neighborhood tavern with accompanying food and beverage that showed its age in a graceful way. It’s an honest place, without all of the forced theme-bar baggage."

Together with William’s brother, Jim Reed, they built ST up from the last century of renovations, digging underneath for lots of wood and real plaster walls. "If we did our job right, no one thinks we did anything at all," says Reed of maintaining old-school wood-grain goodness. "We had similar ideas for bars before we found this building, but the building itself definitely molded our plan."

Reed and Kimport have been friends for more than eight years, sharing a love of restaurant culture and an affinity for bars with an organic funk. They figured they could, through love and knowledge, make having a beer easier and more pleasurable than the bars they went to. So they bought the building three years ago ("we’re not fast workers") and slowly created an intimate, elegant and theatrical two-floor space: checkered tile floors and booths on the first floor, faux Miros and distressed tattered walls on the second floor.

"We both like the look of materials which are durable but also show the signs of wear from heavy use," says Reed of hardwoods and dull metals that surround the bar area and of the "park bench" that he designed, which folds down, revealing glasswear. Another highlight is painter Jim Reed’s absurdist takes on art that fill ST. He took a bunch of "starving artist oil paintings," mass-produced to hang over sofas, and embellished them in subtle ways. An old icebox from the 1950s resides behind the bar, serving only Chesterfield chilled to 34 degrees. And the taps and hand pumps — serving only local brews — pump cask-conditioned ales, like Victory Hop Devil and Yards ESA from the basement. "The pumps are from 1956 and sunk into the solid cherry bar which we built," says Reed, quickly remarking on a "no bottles" policy of all draft beer.

"In many ways, beer is a lot like bread… there are many different types of bread and some are arguably better than others, but all bread is best freshly baked," says Reed. "There are French bakeries that make a killer baguette, but we buy ours from Metropolitan a few blocks away. We support local brewers because they not only make great beers, but they have a few-thousand-mile shipping advantage."

Chef Kimport feels the same way about his cooked-fresh specials — aromatic delights like brisket, venison stew and pork and onions in meat juices. His culinary concept for ST is romanticized and rustic, making the food fit the character of the space.

"I think there is a lot of food people have nostalgia for, but would never cook at home," says Kimport. "It is sort of an American heritage thing that I hope grabs people in a sensual and maybe primal way — hearty food for the body and soul."

What he thinks this will mean to ST diners and hangers-on is a sort of spiritual feel, placing ST between the mood of Doobie’s and California’s Chez Panisse. "I like places that don’t have precious attitudes," says Kimport. "I thought that if there was a middle ground between those establishments it could be a cool spot."

Kimport has nailed it. As part of Northern Liberties, Standard Tap exists as a comfort zone between the atmosphere of old-school neighborhood adult saloon (Liberties) and young hipster bar/art salon (700 Club). In the city’s restaurant continuum, it’s simply a comfortable spot to be: a hangout where clothes and behaviors don’t matter — only appetites.