The Greatest Crime in Craft Beer

With a title that makes a claim such as this, the mind races through probably dozens of possible offenses perpetrated against or even by the craft beer industry itself. Any of these offenses may qualify, depending on your personal drinking preferences and level of passion for today’s craft beer movement. Could it be the bland light lagers forced upon us by the major commercial breweries, whom we all know to be evil incarnate? Could it be the radical and experimental (and often mediocre) brews put out by craft breweries in an attempt to recapture their bleeding edge? Could it even be the overzealous online fans of craft beer themselves?

In fact, the greatest crime in the craft beer world today is something so innocuous and subtle that it most likely has escaped notice by most craft beer consumers. It has crept upon us silently over the past few years and has spread now widely in some areas, especially with the advent of the more upscale drinking establishments and fashionable gastropubs. It is not something new that has been added but instead something that has gone missing: the simple
16-ounce pint glass.

The pint glass has been the standard of goods exchange for draft beer retailers for generations of beer drinkers. A  U.S. liquid pint is a volume of measure defined as 16 ounces, or around 473 milliliters. (The British went so far as to regulate the servings of beer by law centuries ago, hence their 20-ounce imperial pint.) The name pint has its roots in the Old French and ultimately in the Latin picta, meaning “painted,” referring to the serving line painted on an ale vessel. The very definition of this word has historical origins tied to the selling, serving and consumption of beer – but all that may have now come to an end.

This crime is not one committed by the craft beer brewers themselves but by on-premise retailers, who have quietly started to replace their standard pint glasses with either similar-looking 14-ounce glasses of the same shaker pint design or stylized glasses of 12 or even 10 fluid ounces in volume. This is ostensibly a cost-cutting measure – one often accompanied by a price increase as well, so the consumer sometimes now pays more and receives less beer pulled from the tap. Understandably, a business must cover its expenses and ultimately make a profit but the consumer’s salary is not rocketing skyward, either.

This is the greatest craft beer crime because it has broken the standard metric of exchange between craft beer consumers and the retailers they support. No longer can we compare one establishment to another on the basis of price as their serving sizes cannot be relied upon to be equivalent, and some retailers are unjustly accused of being more expensive when they are actually the same or cheaper on a per-ounce basis. The consumer metric between the ultimate purchaser and the brewery, the 12-ounce bottle, still stands but for how long? Will brewers begin to adopt a 10-ounce bottle size or 8-ounce can for the same purpose?

(Actually, this trend has already started, albeit on a very isolated scale. Some breweries use the "stubby" bottles for their product, a throwback design from decades ago. This bottle style does have some distinct and practical functional advantages for brewers but it holds only 11.2 ounces in volume instead of the standard 12 ounces. Fortunately, the ubiquity of the iconic longneck brown bottle is a difficult tradition and marketing package from which to deviate.)

Nor are craft breweries entirely innocent in this practice. Customized brewery glassware is often provided to retailers, specialized glasses etched with the company logo that are meant to be the ideal serving vessel and volume for perhaps a boozy barleywine or pungent sour ale. For high-gravity products or limited-edition exceptions such as these, smaller portion sizes are understandable and acceptable but too often a simple sessionable amber or wheat ale is served in the same glass. Breweries do not object because they are eager for the logo to be displayed and happy for the free promotion.

As consumers, the only force we have is the budget we choose to spend on purchasing such products and supporting these retailers. Watch for the serving size you are offered next time you enjoy a craft beer from a fresh tap, and verify its volume if necessary. Challenge retailers that do not use the 16-ounce pint as their serving standard, and patronize those that still adhere to a reliable and universally accepted metric of sale.

Black IPA and What Makes a Beer Style

A rising trend in modern craft brewing today is toward an ill-defined beer known as the black IPA, which breaks down into an American-style IPA brewed with darker malts not out of place in porters and stouts. Beginning with a disclaimer, I am not a fan of this trend as the citrusy, pine-resin bite of domestic hops does not sit well on my palate with the dark-roasted malts used in these beers.

However, many do enjoy this flavor combination, which is why brewers are so keen to rush into this brand-new beer style. But this only begs the question: Is black IPA truly a new style or just a variant of an existing category? What, if anything, defines a craft beer “style” as distinct and official? Can such discrete lines be drawn, or are beer styles a squishy continuum that can accommodate most anything used in a brew kettle?

The categorization of beer styles comes down to just two elements, those being ingredients and tradition. Note that prevalence nor popularity is mentioned at this point; neither should be considered in defining a beer style, especially a brand new one. A new style is a new style, whether brewed by one brewer or adopted across the country. The science of grouping beers into styles should be approached as objectively as the senses can allow.

A beer’s ingredients may seem to be the simple part of this formula, but this element is deceptively complicated. It is easy to enumerate the constituents of a craft beer, and not much more difficult to quantify each in turn. However, modern beer styles have been fairly complete and well-defined for decades now—some for centuries—and wedging a new style into the grid is (and should be) a struggle. If defining new styles were an easy task, we would be left with thousands instead of the hundred or so recognized today.

For example, the black IPA has ingredients that are distinct from the American IPA as well as ingredients that are separate from the robust porter, but does that meet the threshold of a new style? Does the flavor profile of the black IPA reside within one of these other styles? Might it be considered a hoppy porter instead, or an off-style mistake that is too dark to judge within the existing IPA guidelines? If “dark” makes a new IPA style, does “light” do the same if using pale pilsner malts? This latter equivalence should hold for both or neither.

More important than the actual ingredients is the tradition surrounding the beer itself. In this sense, popularity does matter but not in the same way as in modern beer-rating website status. Instead, tradition implies a regional origin and prevalence, something identifiable with a particular locale either for cultural or societal reasons. Does a beer have a unique backstory, or does it exist due to some exceptional local demand from consumers? Does the beer stand the test of time, or will the black IPA fade out of our consciousness in a few years?

This last criterion is probably the most critical, and what will ultimately determine if the nascent black IPA style is to be formally recognized. Like adopting words into the English lexicon or scientists evaluating new species, these professionals must make sure that new changes have some true and meaningful persistence, and not minor blips that fade into obscurity within a few years. If it does just this, the black IPA will be remembered as merely a twist on an existing beer style, not something distinct unto itself.

Without splitting hairs to the degree of substyles, varietals and the unending permutations that can be achieved with both classic and modern beer recipes, we must conclude that the black IPA is not a new and distinct beer style—at least, not yet. This subcategory of beer styles will have to be debated by both the brewing and consuming communities, and only years from now can the stylistic determination be made.

Update: Just this past January, the Brewers Association updated their 2011 guidelines to include the American-style Black Ale, but this has not yet been universally adopted.

Is Stone Brewing Still Worthy?

If you are like thousands of other craft beer fans, your tastes will likely have passed through the revelation of Stone Brewing’s beers along the way to forming your beer identity. You most likely remember your first taste of Stone’s Arrogant Bastard Ale—possibly your first exposure to beer beyond the light lagers of the majors—and its reckless use of hops and strength as they assaulted your palate onto the next level.

Stone entered the nascent craft beer movement with a big splash in 1996 with their rebellious image, the omnipresent gargoyle icon filled with disdain and a chant of “You’re Not Worthy” emblazoned on every bottle. They made their mark mocking the “fizzy yellow beers” by shunning adjuncts and making some style-defying products, most of which pushed the boundaries of flavors with a newfound brashness in brewing and earned for them legions of eager craft beer fans.

Now almost fifteen years forward, look back on their works of the past decade and a half. Their core products are still among the best-reviewed and most-favored in the craft beer world. Beers like the Stone Pale ale, IPA and Ruination, the Smoked Porter, Imperial Russian Stout and Old Guardian Barley Wine stand out as excellent representatives of each of their respective styles. Of these listed here, I am still a huge fan and regular consumer.

However, look across at some of their “edgy” product ideas such as the Vertical Epic series, which has met with only lukewarm critical response. Designed as a dozen-beer series to be collected, aged and enjoyed at the end of those twelve years, some have been quality stand-outs but with many of these not nearly as good as anticipated, bordering on mediocre. This latter group certainly will not improve with time, much less age well enough to make the end of the series as intended.

Even some of their “new” products are not truly new, much less innovative. Arrogant Bastard has been oaked. The Double Bastard Ale is almost by definition merely a doubling of the original Arrogant Bastard recipe. Stone Ruination is nothing more than a re-issue of their Fifth Anniversary Ale, formulated as a year-round product. Even their newest releases of the Stone Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale and the Stone Cali-Belgique IPA are reworks of their Eleventh Anniversary Ale and one of the Vertical Epic editions, respectively. Just about the only original standout of the past decade has been the Stone Levitation, a mild amber ale.

The latest sign of trouble comes just recently with an announcement of their “Odd Beers for Odd Years” series. Stone plans to vary the yeast in two solid flagship products, the Old Guardian Barley Wine and Russian Imperial Stout, releasing specialized versions of each in odd-numbered years going forward. Although in some cases such experimentation can be viewed as innovative and progressive, a move such as this that displaces two highly in-demand beers comes across as almost desperate—especially in light of the lack of other original ideas.

More than facing problems simply with the origins of new beers, Stone suffers from a tremendous house flavor. Breweries often become accustomed to using the same ingredients from the same suppliers, and many maintain a particular favored yeast strain used as a base for most if not all of their products. If not careful with recipe formulations, breweries can inadvertently develop the same flavors throughout their product lines no matter the individual style of beer.

Unfortunately, Stone has fallen into the trap of house flavor not only with brewing but also with their thinking and business practices. Their rebellious new beers come across with flavors not innovative and desirable but that are yawningly familiar variations upon an often-abused theme of “extreme brewing” while searching for some sort of style identity. All I am able to taste recently are tinkering experiments with the Arrogant Bastard base recipe that are wholly uninspired and unoriginal.

Stone may have been “extreme” early in their history but as the rest of the craft beer industry has caught up (if not passed them by), Stone has remained static while resting on the same business formula with which they started years ago. Their image has become dated and self-mocking, and their talents have become a creative shadow of the bad boys of brewing they once claimed to be.

Divine Opportunity Missed

Just this past December 1st, Houston’s Saint Arnold Brewing Company released the latest edition of its specialty beer series, this one sequentially dubbed the Divine Reserve No. 9. In a departure from previous versions of classic high-gravity styles, the No. 9 is a unique recipe of an “imperial pumpkin stout,” a Russian imperial stout brewed with pumpkin and traditional spices.

Saint Arnold has been brewing this rather irregular series since 2005. Even-numbered releases are based on the winning recipe of the regional homebrew competition, the Big Batch Brew Bash, with odd-numbered versions being original in-house creations. In the past they have produced barleywines, imperial stouts and heavy IPAs; No. 9 has proven to be their most original attempt yet.

These Divine Reserve releases have grown into something of a frenzied cult following. Because the batch sizes are limited, unique and never to be reproduced, they often sell out statewide within days or even hours—or minutes, as is the case at some retailers. Demand is high both for consumption and for cellaring purposes, both by casual consumers and hard-core Saint Arnold fans alike.

Yet is Saint Arnold missing a prime marketing opportunity with this series? Limited editions are always a good profit engine for brewers but Saint Arnold seems to be mishandling some of the success that has fallen seemingly at its feet. Almost all the Divine Reserve beers are very highly rated individually but the series taken as a whole can be viewed as a lesser success.

To begin, there is the issue of the styles chosen. These include a couple of barleywines, a Belgian quadrupel, a strong IPA, a heavy Scotch ale (twice), a Russian imperial stout and a weizenbock. Granted that half the styles are dictated by the Big Batch Brew Bash, the choices made by the Saint Arnold brewers have not been the most original or experimental. Hopefully, the latest No. 9 is a break in this uncreative trend.

The second problem has been one of supply, most likely dictated simply by spare capacity at the brewery to hold one of these batches for the long term required. The extremely limited supply coupled with attempts to distribute throughout Texas means shortages in all places, and the accompanying media attention has lead to a growing following that ravenously purchase and hoard sizeable quantities as soon as each release hits the shelves. With any luck, expanded capacity at their new brewery location will ameliorate at least some of this issue.

However, the largest problem with this special series is also seemingly the easiest to remedy: timing. There appears to be no set schedule or calendar consideration for each Divine Reserve batch. A mere three months elapsed between releases No. 8 and No. 9, whereas the No. 8 came out almost a year after its predecessor. No perennial character exists, nor is there any attempt to correlate releases with seasons or calendar dates.

This problem of scheduling is a grand opportunity missed for a great deal of positive (and free) marketing and exposure. With an annual “Divine Reserve Day,” the media coverage would extend for months and consumers would plan their events with anticipation; instead, Saint Arnold fans are left racing against each other due to grass-roots notification via a mailing list. Cameras would capture the celebration surrounding this ersatz holiday (re: Three Floyds Dark Lord Day) instead of covering the frustrated crush at liquor stores on the day of release.

Will these matters be resolved with the expanded space and capacity at their newly occupied brewery just north of downtown? Possibly, at least those concerns related to space, capacity and distribution. As for criticisms of the choice of styles and release dates, this is a matter solely under the control of Saint Arnold management.

Guess Who's Coming to (Beer) Dinner

One very welcome trend on the rise recently in urban culture is the event known as the beer dinner, often also called the beer-pairing dinner. Print, broadcast and online media love the idea, as it provides a simple and cheap human-interest piece, all the time showcasing such image-friendly items as fine dining and craft beer.

Many restaurants and pubs are just now becoming aware of both the appeal of and business opportunity for pairing craft beer with food. The concept is terribly simple, yet subtle: a multi-course meal is prepared, and each course is paired with a specific beer or beer style. Sometimes it is in conjunction with a local or regional brewer or central theme, and sometimes it is simply composed of a thoughtful mix of commercially available craft beers.

It may be easier to simply list what a beer dinner entails than attempt to expand the concept or rules any further. A recent local beer dinner included the following menu (the beers are usually served in smaller 4- or 6-ounce samples instead of full pint servings):

• First course: Lamb medallion with a kriek glaze and white asparagus puree, paired with a schwarzbier.
• Second course: Chilled cucumber soup with fried lotus root, paired with a light helles lager.
• Third course: Blackened salmon with citrus coulis and arugula, paired with an English-style pale ale.
• Fourth course: Slow-roasted beef with spring vegetables and garlic cous cous, paired with an American amber ale.
• Fifth course: Berry cheesecake with chocolate crust, paired with a maibock.

The intent of the beer dinner is to show how the flavors of each dish can be matched, complimented or fortified by selected beer styles, often in much better ways than wine is able. After all, craft beer derives from the same ingredients as bread and herbs, not fruit. It is only natural for a malt-based beverage to accompany dishes made up of grains, spices and meats.

The subtlety comes in finding craft beers to compliment the food, and sometimes cooking food that specifically compliments the beers. A properly designed beer dinner should not be a random match, feature only crowd favorites or be a showcase for rare beer styles. Strong flavors are acceptable only so much as they can be augmented by other strong flavors, either from the beers or the food.

The greatest benefit from events such as this is to re-introduce the idea that beer is food. For too long, beer has been relegated merely as a beverage of cheap convenience and refreshment by large corporate breweries, something only the working class swilled to quench their thirst during sporting events. Modern craft beer is as complex and sophisticated as any wine or spirit, and presenting it to the consuming public in this manner elevates it to a more suitable level.

Most beer dinners are well within the affordable range for most diners, and it is a great method of presenting craft beer to an underinformed public while also educating those already fans about some flavors and styles with which they may not be familiar. And as it seems to be quite profitable for many merchants and provides promotion for smaller, local brewers, these dinners will hopefully only develop and grow in popularity.

Extreme Beers

Brewing lends itself to experimentation in the same way as cooking up a recipe in a kitchen. Ingredients can be used or featured based on their individual strengths and flavors, their seasonal availability or to the taste of the chef. And as always, limits and prescribed recipes exist only to be pushed, challenged and extended.

The American craft brewing scene has an element of rogue extreme beers galloping along its fringes. What is meant by “extreme beers” are certain craft beers that push the limits of style guidelines, palatability or alcoholic strength. These are almost by definition experimental products, some little more than commercial test batches that have been formally released.

The descriptor "extreme” is taken to mean beyond simply the stronger versions of more traditional styles. Strong IPAs and imperial stouts may creep into the 10% ABV range but extreme beers routinely double this. Yet it is not necessarily the gravity that defines an extreme beer but some attribute taken to excess beyond any contemporary product or stylistic guideline.

By their very nature, extreme beers can be expensive and calorie-laden. Anywhere from twice to ten times the ingredients of a normal batch of beer can be used to produce just a single batch of these beers. This makes their prices soar, and small batch runs yield limited availability that is only compounded by rabid fans and consumers.

Because extreme beers are such a financial commitment on the part of the brewer, only a few brewers have the means to even attempt these rarities. Likewise, only a subset of the craft beer consuming market is willing to invest in these beers, yet somehow demand remains very high nationwide. Some present commercial examples include:

Three Floyds Dark Lord Russian Imperial Stout. This is a dark imperial stout that pushes the limits of viscosity. At 13% ABV, this stout is as thick as sorghum and has elements of coffees, chocolates and ports. A special day is set aside each April for its annual release that draws pilgrims to the brewery in Indiana from across the United States.

Dogfish Head World Wide Stout. This is another Russian imperial stout that has traded places back and forth with the Utopia in years past for the world record of the highest gravity commercial beer. Generally around 18% ABV, this is another heavy stout with components of roasted coffee, merlot, dark fruits and licorice.

Samuel Adams Triple Bock. Batches of this extreme beer were brewed only in 1994, 1995 and 1997, yet bottles can still be found in retailers around the country. An experimental (and somewhat controversial) extension of the doppelbock style, the Triple Bock reached 17.5% ABV and has been described as everything from a heavily malted ale to an unpalatable blend of soy sauce and wine.

Dogfish Head 120 Minute IPA. Supposedly a continuation of their sixty- and ninety-minute hopping process from the beers of the same names, this is less a strong IPA and more of a hoppy American barleywine. Recent batches have clocked in at 21% ABV, and this beer is designed to age in the cellar for decades or longer. Trust me when I say this beer greatly improves with even just a little age.

Samuel Adams Utopia. The most extreme of commercial beers, this beer requires several different yeast strains to reach its final gravity of 27% ABV. Sold in a very distinctive gold vessel modeled after a full-sized mash tun, a single bottle can retail for as much as $125. Remarkably, the beer remains smooth and drinkable without becoming whiskey-hot with the highest alcohol level ever recorded for a commercial beer.

Consumer Trends, Brewing Trends

Merriam-Webster defines a trend as "a line or general direction of movement” or “a prevailing tendency or inclination." The most obvious trends are either in fashion or on Wall Street, where the skill of detecting and predicting trends is almost a science. Consumers trend constantly in their choices and purchases, from autos to household electronics, from movies to the food they eat.

Likewise, craft beer is not immune to trends. It is as much a consumer item as any DVD or child’s Christmas toy, and craft brewers are as attuned to the market as any retailer or manufacturer. Let us examine a few recent trends in the Texas craft beer market. Texas makes a good sample population because it has a large beer-consuming base and none of its small craft breweries distribute outside the state.

Case #1. In 2004, the Rahr & Sons Brewing Company began brewing operations in Fort Worth with three flagship beers: a Münich helles, a Vienna lager and a schwarzbier. The schwarzbier, named Ugly Pug Black Lager, was a tremendous local success and remains so today. Even in a state with a large historic German settlement and brewing tradition, this was the first U.S. commercial schwarzbier in the Texas market, a market that barely had any imported schwarzbiers at all.

To celebrate their upcoming centennial, a few years ago Spoetzl Brewing began a limited-run annual series of beers of various Bavarian styles. Released in 2006, their Shiner 97 edition was a “Bohemian Black Lager,” or a schwarzbier. This particular beer proved so commercially successful that it was resurrected a year later and added to their current product portfolio as the Shiner Bohemian Black Lager, the only one of the series so far to make this permanent jump.

Case #2. Each spring, the Houston area homebrewing clubs host the Big Batch Brew Bash, a statewide homebrew competition with a twist: it only has one style category. That style changes from year to year, and in 2008 the designated style was weizenbock, a dark German wheat beer full of yeasty banana and clove flavors.

In an agreement with the competition, the Saint Arnold Brewing Company of Houston purchases the top beer from the winning homebrewer each year and uses that recipe to develop the odd-numbered beers of their special Divine Reserve limited edition series. And in 2008, the Divine Reserve #7 was that championship weizenbock, which enjoyed an improved and wider distribution throughout the state than previous beers in this series.

Again as far as I am aware, this was the first U.S. commercial weizenbock available in the Texas market, aside from the rare European import. And what happened later that year? The Live Oak Brewing Company of Austin releases a new fall seasonal beer named Primus—a weizenbock. A few weizenbocks also start appearing among the Texas brewpubs, where they never had entertained that style previously.

Are these cases of petty copycat brewers or savvy businessmen identifying and pursuing profitable popular trends? Do Texas craft brewers large and small keep one eye on the competition and plan products competitively, or are style ideas and preferences planted in the population’s psyche that somehow spread virally and bubble just beneath the consciousness? Is this a case of convergent evolution or is the market larger than the sum of its parts?

No craft brewer wants to be labeled as a follower, and all claim to have developed similar beers only coincidentally. All in all, trends like these do turn out to be very good things, especially in a rather contained market like Texas. Multiple versions of similar beers foster competition and the craft beer consumers become a wonderful test bed for comparing and contrasting individual interpretations of the same styles.