Nowadays, liquor store shelves sag beneath with double IPAs and imperial stouts -- flavorful, potent brews with ABVs that often hit 10 percent and above. But these beers are as innocuous as apple juice when compared with Samuel Adams' Utopias, which clock in at a liquor-like 27 percent ABV.
"This is the Starship Enterprise of beers," says Jim Koch, founder of Sam Adams. "We're taking beer where beer has never gone before."
While cool, blustery fall weather stirs longings for steaming cups of apple cider, beer lovers have a reason to drink to the season: fresh-hop beer, a libation that's as fleeting as it is delicate.
August and September signal harvest season for hops, the flower cones that provide beers' bitter flavors. Generally, plucked hops are dried and sent into storage, losing aromatic oils and resins in the process. But a small portion of fresh hops are hustled to breweries in a race against time -- like grass clippings, the hops quickly degrade and decompose.
"Our hops come in by truck, typically in the middle of the night, and we begin brewing within an hour of arrival," says Bill Manley, communications coordinator for Sierra Nevada. "We don't stop brewing until all of the hops are gone, 24 hours a day -- our kettles actually begin to warp toward the end of the week from the constant heat."
But the potential destruction is worth the payoff: Harvest Wet Hop Ale, now in its 13th year of altering drinkers' perception. "Wet-hopped beers can sometimes take a first-time drinker by surprise," Manley says.
The average Asian beer is feather-light and forgettable, the equivalent of drinking seltzer doctored with food coloring and a splash of alcohol -- look no further than brews like Vietnam's 33 Export and Singapore's Tiger Beer. But every blue moon, a cookie-cutter lager can shake our belief in mass-produced suds. To wit, Taiwan Beer, brewed by the government-owned and totally totalitarian-sounding Taiwan Tobacco and Liquor Corporation.
"The beer is purer and more flavorful than many other Asian beers," says Anna Zhang, operations manager for art-filled Shanghai restaurant TMSK, which sells loads of Taiwan Beer.
We can hear microbrew lovers loudly tsk-ing their disapproval. However, hear us out: While Taiwan Beer may pale in comparison to, say, Full Sail's full-bodied Session Lager, it more than holds its own owing to a recipe incorporating locally grown Ponlai rice, which provides a semi-sweet component.
Since 1987, California's hummingbird-themed Nectar Ales (founded by Humboldt Brewing but bought by Firestone Walker in 2004) has focused on super-quaffable session brews such as the caramel-hoppy Nectar IPA and its flagship, the full-bodied Red Nectar amber ale. These are beers that focus on flavor, not a high-proof punch that sends you sprawling.
But Nectar Ales has finally busted its low-alcohol template with its coffee-infused, bourbon-barrel-aged Black Xantus imperial stout (named after a Mexican hummingbird species). It's the brand's inaugural over-the-top, 22-ounce release.
"We have been working on this stout recipe for four years, patiently tweaking things until we were satisfied," says head brewer Matt Brynildson. "I've also spent time with the folks at Joebella Coffee, who are our local roaster. After learning about the agronomics surrounding coffee and the art of roasting, the lightbulb went on."
We adore our double IPAs and super-charged Russian imperial stouts as much as the next craft-beer geek, but sometimes we like drinking a microbrew that doesn't hit us as hard as a right hook in Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!!
So in lieu of quaffing another deliciously inebriating 18-percent ale like Dogfish Head's 120 Minute IPA, we instead look to the lower end of the alcoholic spectrum. Allow us to introduce the Berliner Weisse, a wheat beer that's barely boozier than water.
Sacrificing ABV need not mean sacrificing flavor. The Berliner -- which was, duh, born in Berlin -- is typically tart and straw-hued, with the lactobacillus culture providing a sour, citric edge that's as invigorating as just-squeezed lemonade. "The Berliner weisse is such a low-alcohol beer that it can appeal to the most hardcore beer geeks and to those who don't like beer," says Patrick Rue, head brewer and owner of Placenta, California's the Bruery.
While the Bruery specializes in unfiltered, Belgian-style ales such as the rustic, earthy Saison Rue and spiced Orchard White witbier, it channels Germany for its 3.1 percent ABV Hottenroth Berliner Weisse. It goes into the goblet a pale, hazy yellow, with rapid bubbles and a fast-diminishing head. The nose is all citrus, wheat and barnyard funk, while the Hottenroth drinks prickly and crisp -- if the tartness is too much, you can sweeten the beer with raspberry or woodruff syrup.
This is one beer you won't sour on too soon.
Do you like a nice Berliner Weisse? Come on, drop your thoughts in the comments.
When fall hits, kids get giddy about the mother lode of Halloween candy to come. But adults, too, have reason to celebrate the harvest season -- namely, pumpkin beers.
These vegetable-influenced ales are as varied as jack-o'-lantern carvings. They range from Cape Ann's smooth and chocolaty Fisherman's Pumpkin Stout to Dogfish Head's Punkin Ale, a rich ale dosed with brown sugar and pumpkin flesh. But our favorite Halloween sipper hails from Lakewood, N.Y. -- Southern Tier.
Since the western New York brewery's humble 2004 beginnings, it has spread across the country like kudzu, reaching more than 20 states. The rapid success is due to burly brews like the ludicrously hopped Unearthly Imperial IPA (11 percent ABV!), the dessert-like Crème Brûlee Imperial Milk Stout and the Pumking.
It takes a strong man to wear pink. It takes an even stronger man to heft a frothy pint of pink beer, like the rare-burger-hued Rosée d'Hibiscus, from the genre-busting Canadian brewers at Dieu du Ciel! ("god of the sky").
Since 1998, these mad fermentationists have crafted head-scratching, tummy-pleasing beers like the Equinoxe du Printemps, a strong Scotch ale made with maple syrup, and the Clef des Champs, a floral rye ale flavored with heather and mugwort. Naturally, there was no way that Dieu du Ciel would make a conventional wheat beer.
One day, head brewer Jean-François Gravel was watching a TV documentary on western Africa, which included a discussion of bissap -- a tea made from an infusion of hibiscus flowers and sugar. Gravel re-created the drink at home, realizing the flower's floral profile and acidity would complement a tangy blanche (a wheat bear).
Belgium Tripel fans dig burly, nuanced brews cut with candy sweetness. American pale acolytes savor smooth ales with a hoppy edge. The suds' styles are as different as cats and dogs, but Pennsylvania's Weyerbacher brewing has unleashed a hybrid that could cause both beer-loving camps to drool.
For its latest summer seasonal, Zotten (rhymes with verboten), Weyerbacher has taken a super-drinkable (why hello, 6 percent ABV) American pale ale and given it a Belgian tweak via the abbey-yeast strain employed in the brewery's medal-winning Merry Monks' Tripel.
But don't mistake the bottle-conditioned Zotten (Flemish for fools) for a chug-a-lug pilsner or lily-livered lager. Zotten slips from the bottle a glowing rusty orange, perfumed with a bloom of tropical fruit, Bubble Yum sweetness and enough pungent hops to imitate an IPA. Surprisingly, Weyerbacher's liquid magicians keep rampant bitterness at bay. The hops provide a springboard for Zotten's rich flavor constellation of pepper, coriander and yeasty bread, before closing clean and crisp with a lingering spicy bite.
The Belgian ale. The American pale. Two great tastes that taste great together. What's your favorite hybrid beer? Spread some liquid gospel in the comments.
With much of the country smothered by a hot, damp quilt of humidity, drinkers need a brew suited for combating the unrepentant sun. While mowing-the-lawn beers like the Brothers Light (Bud and Coors, that is) may slake thirst, they're like fizzy tap water. A finer alternative is the flavorful German Hefeweizen.
Classically, the cloudy, unfiltered ale (examples include Jolly Pumpkin's sour Weizen Bam and the classic Schneider Weisse) possesses heaps of wheat, creating a lively beverage with a banana aroma and tangy edge.
"When I'm looking for the perfect thirst-quencher, I want a beer with a light body without being watery," says Jonathan Lafortune, the president and brewmaster behind Quebec's Les Trois Mousquetaires."[I like a] beer with a slight acidity that gives me a refreshing sensation and a little bit of spice."
No matter what sci-fi flicks tell us, it's tough to alter a human's DNA. But changing the makeup of a beer's requires no mad scientist. Just look at the Devil.
For years, one of the top sellers for Downingtown, Pa.'s Victory Brewing has been HopDevil Ale, a forcefully floral India pale ale with a smack of malt sweetness. It's pleasure by the pint. Instead of toeing the status quo, Victory's brewers tweaked the HopDevil formula by incorporating a batch of virulent Brettanomyces yeast.
Left unchecked, the wild yeast wreaks havoc on beer, turning brews funky and sour. If handled correctly, on the other hand, it results in nuanced flavors (for tasty examples, sample California's Lost Abbey or Russian River Brewing).
"We were nervous of [the loyal HopDevil] audience's reaction to WildDevil," Victory cofounder Bill Covaleski has reportedly admitted.
He need not worry. After releasing the 750 ml bottle's metal cage and popping the cork, the WildDevil (6.7 percent ABV) pours fast and fizzy: Go slow, or you'll get a glass full of foam. The citrusy hop aroma is muted by a ripe blanket of earth, hay and a touch of fruit tossed in for fun. The taste pinballs from brown sugar to pine to sour cherry -- the spicy hops riding back-seat before finishing tart -- and is dry and super-drinkable, proving the Devil is indeed in the details.
Everyone knows drinking and driving do not mix, so it was sort of strange that Mothers Against Drunk Driving decried Flying Fish's latest limited-edition seasonal, Exit 11.
"The combination of a roadway and advertising for any kind of a beer doesn't make any kind of sense," said Mindy Lazar, executive director of New Jersey's MADD chapter.
For serious? The New Jersey-based brewery's Exit Series does not champion boozing and cruising; Exit Series is a celebration of the state's traffic-clogged turnpike in liquid form. The first release, Exit 4, was a Belgian-style Trippel kicked up with copious hops.
Exit 11, the spaghetti-like juncture where drivers steer toward the Jersey shore, takes a turn toward the land of wheat ales: "[It's] a fresh, citrus-y summer beer perfect for beachgoers and those who only wish they were headed 'downa shore,'" explains Flying Fish head brewer Casey Hughes.
Modus Hoperandi India Pale Ale. Photo: Jenene Chesbrough.
By now, news of another India pale ale -- an occurrence as common as an Alaskan snowstorm -- barely merits mention.
But every blue moon, an IPA arrives to jolt our jaded taste buds, causing us to thank a higher deity for the heavenly, hoppy elixir. So let's bow down and worship a little green can filled with Modus Hoperandi, a brew so skunky and stinky it reminds us of something else.
"We used to smoke a lot of weed," jokes Dave Thibodeau, cofounder of Durango, Colo.'s Ska Brewing Company. Since releasing the "old-man bitter" brew in late winter, it's rocketed to the top of Ska's bestseller list. "It completely caught us off-guard, which is a good problem to have," Thibodeau says.
Crisp, floral Czech pilsners can typically lord their pedigree over their American counterparts -- the champagne to most stateside macro-breweries' bathwater (Miller Lite calls itself a "true pilsner beer.")
"Mass-market pilsners are liquid Muzak," says Marty Jones, the "lead singer and idea man" for Lyons, Colorado's Oskar Blues. To rebut the bland, watery brews littering the marketplace, Oskar Blues -- the first microbrewery to can craft beer -- has unveiled Mama's Little Yella Pils. "We're restoring a little honor to the concept," Jones says of Mama's, which re-creates a classic Czech pilsner with American craft-beer flair.
Instead of relying on cheap adjuncts like rice or corn, Mama's is constructed with 100 percent malt and a generous dose of spicy Saaz hops. But brewing a pilsner is an exercise in restrained elegance, unlike brutish IPAs and boozy stouts potent enough to incapacitate Paul Bunyan.
Delicious on a 90-degree day. Photo: 21st Amendment Brewery
With summer spiking thermometers, few frigid beverages satisfy quite like unfiltered wheat beers, mellow and flavorful thirst-quenchers that drink as easy as fresh-squeezed lemonade.
But a great beer style is just a springboard for innovation, a belief held by Nico Freccia. About a decade ago, the founder of San Francisco's 21st Amendment Brewery was fooling around with home-brewed wheats. Since it was summertime, he tossed ripe red watermelon chunks into his fermenting suds. "I didn't think the flavor would come through very well because watermelon is mostly, well, water," Freccia said.
To his surprise, the experiment was a triumph. Within the cloudy wheat beer, the watermelon shone as bright as a klieg light in a foggy night, without mimicking a Jolly Rancher run amok. "It still tasted like beer," marvels Freccia. "I could drink several without feeling like I was drinking a Slurpee."
Hop heads are hopelessly addicted to Humulus lupulus, the flowering vine whose cones lend beer its piney, floral and even marijuana-like aromas and flavors.
To sate hop lovers' jones, we turn to the West Coast. There, California brewers are engaged in an arms race to craft bigger, burlier double India pale ales like Russian River's wondrous Pliny the Elder, Stone's Ruination and Port Brewing's heavenly Hop-15 Ale (above).
Based in San Marcos, Calif., Port Brewing is helmed by beer magician Tomme Arthur. Though the funky Belgian ales he brews under the Lost Abbey imprint are fabulous, we're happiest when he's hoppiest.
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