Caveat Emptor and the Craft Beer Consumer

I recently picked up a bottle of BrewDog’s Dogma, a new imported beer from a Scottish craft brewer previously unrepresented in this area. My intent was to evaluate and properly review the beer contained within for a future article but a few tell-tale signs lead me to abandon such an attempt. As happens on occasion in the craft beer world, especially with the new and imported, I was in possession of a bad bottle.

BrewDog Ltd. is a very experimental, “American-style” microbrewery located in Fraserburgh, Scotland, with beers only newly arrived in the North Texas market. I use the term “American-style” because BrewDog differs from the standard European brewing industry—steeped in tradition and loyal to regional styles—and instead is daring and boundlessly nontraditional with their products. Only a couple of months ago, BrewDog made international news with the “world's strongest beer” at 32% ABV.

Dogma is an herb/spiced beer brewed with additions of guarana, poppy seeds, kola nut and Scottish heather honey. Sometimes one can form an expectation of the flavor of a beer before sampling, but this unique combination of ingredients proved a challenge. Based on the description, some sort of lightly spiced, nutty, slightly honey-sweet beverage should have been forthcoming.

Instead, the beer that poured from this bottle was flat and lifeless with a taste to match, somewhat of an ripe, tangy flavor and a slightly not-so-unpleasant element that just was not quite right. It did not exhibit any of the typical characteristics of an infected beer (such as obvious sourness or a green apple flavor) or of oxidation (such as a stale or cardboardy element) but something in the profile just did not add up.

Suspicious, I referenced a few online reviews of this same beer and found almost no correlation between other drinkers’ descriptions and the beverage before me. My guess is that I purchased an old or mistreated bottle—which will happen occasionally in each beer drinker’s career. Especially vulnerable are imports newly arrived on the Texas market, beers of unknown provenance that not only cross the oceans under dubious storage conditions but may also sit in state-side warehouses for months on end awaiting regulatory approval.

Texas is especially guilty of this problem. Commercial approval of new beers for sale in our state’s markets can be tediously lengthy and expensive, with delays ranging from disputes over alcoholic strength to stylistic classifications to minor elements included on the labels. During this time, beers will sit—and where they sit and the environment in which they are kept is an unknown quantity.

Naturally, heat is an enemy of fresh beer and it is doubtful products are stored in the same sort of stifling warehouses as furniture, clothing or other environmentally durable goods. But imports (as well as many domestic brands) can suffer during transport periods without cooling controls, and even some areas of storage under air-conditioned units can be much warmer than intended, such as shelves stacked high off the ground.

One obvious sign of mishandling is a thick layer of sediment caked at the bottom of a bottle. Upon disturbing the beer, the detritus floats in suspension and can leave an otherwise delicious beer rather unappetizing, almost like a glass full of dietary fiber supplement. This is a positive indication that the beer has been through relatively rough temperature ranges, causing solids and proteins to fall out of their normal suspension.

The lesson here is that there is an unwritten element to evaluating craft beers, and that is to always consider the possibility of a mishandled or old bottle. Rare circumstances such as this should not reflect negatively on a brewer, and are most often remedied once distribution channels are established and refreshed regularly. Bringing such matters to the attention of your retailer is also a good idea, as they should also benefit from as much feedback as you can provide.

Beers Texas Needs

In case you had not noticed, the young Texas craft beer market is currently flourishing. We are seeing an unprecedented number of national brands and imports arriving almost weekly, and our in-state commercial brewers are the strongest they have been since the reckless microbrew expansion of the dot-com era.

Naturally, all the stylistic basics seem to be covered. Amber ales and Vienna-style lagers are quite popular and widespread, as are many variations of the well-liked wheat or weizen styles. We have plenty of quality helles lagers, and fall brings an abundance of new Oktoberfest beers each year. We have a couple of decent IPAs (although we could always use more) and a few great stouts, albeit with the latter not truly in high demand with our grueling Texas summers.

So where do we go from here? What direction should Texas brewers take with their products, and which will prove the most successful? What gaps remain to be filled? The good news is that many market niches have already been identified and satisfied most profitably. We have schwarzbiers and Dortmunders and variations on the kölsch, all of which are great additions to our landscape. But we have still missed a few of the obvious.

Bock. The historical settlement of Central Texas is one of German and Czech immigrants, imparting a long and noble history of Germanic brewing to the Lone Star State. Yet too few breweries today embrace this heritage, particularly with respect to bocks and their subcategories. We do have maibocks and limited spring seasonals, but it seems craft brewers are content to relinquish the bock style to Spoetzl (even though Shiner is no longer categorized as a bock) when instead this state should have a market flooded with bocks from every brewhaus. And a popular state-brewed doppelbock is long overdue.

Münich dunkel. The dunkel, a slightly darker, roastier cousin of the Vienna lager, would make a fine competitor for either the dark, sweet lager that is now Shiner or as an alternative to brewing a true bock-style beer. Unfortunately, the only dunkels to be found in Texas are either imported from Germany or from Mexico, which has embraced its German and Austrian brewing heritage better than Texas has.

Berliner weisse. To brew a Berliner weisse for the scorching Texas heat should not even be debated. This low-alcohol wheat beer brings a refreshing lemon and citrus lactic tang to the traditional weizen already popular in hot weather. The proven success of hefeweizen and witbier in our state should prompt local craft brewers to explore all the variations of the weizen styles.

Rauchbier. Another seemingly obvious choice is the rauchbier, a German lager similar to a bock that is brewed with smoked malt and often with an addition of rye. The smoky flavor can be anywhere from subtle campfire to full bacon-flavored beverage, and its obvious pairing with native Texas barbecue should make it a commercial success if only for cooks building their marinades.

Czech pilsner. Despite being the most numerous commercial beer style on the market today, pilsners have drifted too far away from their authentic Bohemian origins. Instead of being smooth, sweet and forgettable, true Czech pilsners can be hopped as strongly as American IPAs using Saaz and other noble hops yet can remain equally as refreshing as a tame marketable lager.

Eisbock. Including an eisbock on this list is a guilty indulgence on my part but still one that may be economically competitive. A traditional strong bock is brewed and then held below freezing for a duration, after which the frozen water content is physically removed as ice (ethanol has a much lower freezing point than water). What remains is a high-gravity commercial competitor to barleywines and imperial stouts that is as smooth as schnapps and relatively unique to the marketplace.

Granted, a few of these styles have already been attempted by in-state brewers—even with ongoing success—but few remain as permanent products on the state’s large landscape. If existing and future brewers adopted German styles more, perhaps a unique national identity could successfully arise for Texas craft brewing.

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.

Another Extreme Beer

News broke this week of another entry into the race to create the strongest and most extreme beer on the commercial market. Scottish brewer BrewDog, currently the largest independent brewery in Scotland, recently announced the release of a 32% ABV imperial stout aged in whisky casks quizzically named Tactical Nuclear Penguin.

Aside from bragging rights used in marketing, high-gravity extreme beers are quite an accomplishment and a testament to the skill of a brewer. Alcohol is a toxic substance (hence the root word for intoxication), especially to microorganisms. Even though their entire existence is spent converting sugar to alcohol and carbon dioxide, most yeast strains cannot survive as their environment approaches 10% to 12% alcohol by volume.

So how are such high-gravity beers made? The first step is in the choice of yeast used, and some brewers have developed their own robust yeast strains in their house laboratories. Even so, these specialized species cannot achieve the record-setting levels of 25% ABV or above without a lot of prodding from the brewer.

Such a batch begins with making a very large starter, which is a type of mini-brew used just to increase the cell count of the yeast before introducing it to the wort. Homebrewers will commonly make a starter out of nothing but sugar, yeast and water, allowing it to grow for hours or days before brewing. The greater number of yeast cells that can begin fermentation immediately when introduced forgoes a lot of other problems as well.

The second consideration is to use highly fermentable grains, that is, grains with abundant starch content that can be fully converted and fully attenuated by the yeast. Likewise, fermentation is given another starting boost by highly oxygenating the wort once the yeast has been pitched, generally by agitation or even bubbling pure oxygen through the liquid.

Fermentation will naturally proceed quite vigorously at first and will begin to slow after a certain point, eventually coming to a halt once the consumable sugar content has been depleted. For that reason, brewers of high-gravity beers will continuously make small additions of sugar to feed the yeast and keep it alive and active, sometimes for weeks or months.

Eventually, any ale or lager yeast will reach its limit of survivability as the alcohol levels continue to rise. Thus, brewers will sometimes switch to other strains of yeast in later stages to finish off the fermentation to the target levels. Champagne yeast is a favorite alternative, as it is highly tolerant to alcohol and neutral in flavor.

However, BrewDog used none of these methods in brewing their record-setting beer, instead relying on a bit of a brewing cheat. Although water freezes at 0°C, ethanol does not freeze until −114°C. By freezing the wort after fermentation, the water content will freeze into a solid block of ice that can be easily removed, leaving behind the unfrozen alcohol in a much stronger beverage.

This method of freezing and removing the water is used in producing the German beer style eisbock, strong beers of about 16% ABV so named after this process. BrewDog did not actually brew a 32% beer but instead made a 10% imperial stout that was held at −20°C for three weeks. The result may be the same in the final product but the achievement is far less impressive than actually coaxing and manipulating yeast to perform far beyond their limits.

Is Beer Vegan?

The question was recently raised about whether or not craft beer (or beer in general) can be considered vegan. As people become more conscious about what they eat and where their food comes from, and especially as organic claims and certification more often than not blur the lines of truth and nutrition, this can be a genuine concern to those on restricted diets.

First of all, all beer is clearly a vegetarian foodstuff. Vegetarianism is the abstaining from eating the flesh of all animals, and no meat products are ever used in any brewing process of any kind. (Medieval recipes exist for variations on a rather unappealing brewed beverage known as cock ale, but that is a topic for another day.)

However, modern veganism is much more restrictive than a traditional vegetarian diet. As defined by the American Vegan Society, “[t]he vegan diet excludes flesh, fish, fowl, dairy products (animal milk, butter, cheese, yogurt, etc.), eggs, honey, animal gelatin, and all other foods of animal origin.” This means avoiding not only animal flesh but all animal byproducts and derivatives.

From simply an ingredient standpoint, most beer can be considered wholly vegan. Even the most adventurous craft beers include nothing but malted grains, hops, water, fruit or spice additions, and yeast. (Any beer containing honey obviously cannot be considered vegan.) Yeast itself is classified as a fungus, so although it is an independent microorganism it should offer no objection as mushrooms and tofu are acceptable to the vegan diet.

The point at which some beers may garner the disapproval of vegans lies in the various methods used for clarification of the beverage. Many craft brewers prefer to leave their beers unfiltered as it can enhance body and flavor, so these should offer no objection whatsoever. But an additional clarification step at the end of the brewing process can be problematic, depending on the method used.

One popular method of clarifying beer is the addition of finings near the end of the brewing process. Finings are materials that function as flocculation points for yeast in suspension to collect and eventually sink to the bottom under their own weight, where they can be easily removed in bulk. Even though very little of the fining material remains in the finished product, this practice is enough to render the beer non-vegan if animal byproducts are used.

Specifically, at one time brewers used a material known as isinglass as a fining material. Isinglass is a collagen product obtained from the swim bladders of sturgeon, and it has a few other cooking applications in confectionery and dessert-making. However, many modern brewers are abandoning the use of isinglass in industrial brewing—not over vegan objections but simply due to the expense, as the material has become quite costly.

Another fining material very popular with homebrewers is known as Irish moss. Irish moss is a red algae containing carrageenan that looks much like any other herb when dried, and is of course wholly vegan. Other fining substances such as gelatin from fats, casein from cheesemaking or albumen from chicken eggs are so rarely used any more they are virtually nonexistent within the modern commercial brewing industry.

Most clarification processes used today do not involve added finings at all but instead rely upon physical filtration methods. The beer flows through either a very fine-grade industrial microporous screen or, more commonly, diatomaceous earth. Diatomaceous earth is a chalk-like mineral product formed from the fossilized remains of diatoms, or phytoplankton with a calcareous skeleton. It is cheap, easy to replace and recycle, and is the preferred method of filtration for many craft brewers today.

Of course, nothing beats first-hand information. Virtually all American craft beer on the market today is wholly compliant with the vegan philosophy, but if you are still concerned talk to the brewer directly. Most would be happy to explain their process to you and rather flattered that you showed such a detailed interest in their profession.