"joshua m bernstein" news and stories

Wild Devil Ale. Photo: Victory Brewing.

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.

Photo: Flying Fish Brewing Co.

Joshua M. Bernstein, Gourmet.com's beer columnist, has written about brews, bars and booze for New York Magazine, Imbibe Magazine, Time Out New York, ForbesTraveler.com and The New York Times.

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.

That bit we'll disagree with.

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.

Mama's Little Yella Pils Photo: Oscar Blues.

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."