The Screaming Unicorn exists in that familiar no-man's-land between brewery and restaurant – proudly tucked away alongside a loading dock in an industrial space that rewards those willing to look a little harder. The obscurity is part of the charm. We made it here as part of today's leg of the #RIFoodFights "Sandwich Showdown."
Inside, it's all exposed ductwork, string lights, and mismatched furniture – the universal language of "we used to make things here." Now, they make beer and sandwiches instead, with a healthy dose of irreverent attitude, as evidenced by bathroom signs warning employees to "stop crying before returning to work."
The menu reads like someone raided a global pantry after a few too many IPAs – umami-nara, cashew "cheese," miso pickled slaw – a symptom of the modern compulsion to never leave well enough alone.
The Screaming BLT arrives as a monument to excess: a baroque construction where chili-hoisin glaze, tomato jam, and chipotle aioli compete for attention like needy siblings. It's tasty, but exhausting.
Their mushroom banh mi suffers from the opposite problem – all the promised complexity gets lost somewhere between concept and execution. The textural components are there, but the flavors went missing in action.
The pepperoni pizza's crust tastes like New England brown bread that decided to reinvent itself in the most unlikely way. Molasses and rye play unexpected roles in a dish that didn't necessarily ask for them. The sauce and the deeply charred crust engage in a flavor battle that ends in mutual destruction, though the generously cupped pepperoni provides some reliable salvation.
There's something genuine about this place. It doesn't quite pull off everything it attempts, but it's trying – and not in that calculated, focus-grouped way. In a world of cookie-cutter craft brewery taprooms, there's a cool dignity in their specific brand of trying. They've created a space where people want to be, even if the food occasionally reminds you it's still a brewery first.