Teetotalling Time

by Vince Capano

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet, a kale smoothie, by any other name, is still kale, a tax return, by any other name, is still a pain, and a smartphone with a dead battery, by any other name, is still a paperweight.  And whether you call it Dry January, Dryuary, or Drynuary, it’s still one lousy idea. Yes, when the calendar turns to January 1, both Shakespeare and Ray Bradbury said it perfectly, “something wicked this way comes”.

The concept is simple, albeit puritanical: participants simply do not drink alcohol for the first month of the new year. The execution, however, can get downright infuriating. It’s not just for people wishing to better their lives. It's too often for people who wish to publicly better their lives, and in the process shame those of us who continue to indulge in – dare I use that four-letter words – beer.

This is the era of fasting, the  keto /carnivore/broccoli diets,  tongue scraping , mouth taping, juice cleanses and NA (no alcohol) booze.  For true believers Dry January is yet another way to signify a dedication to good health.  Maybe their point is you can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.

Ironically, but perhaps unsurprisingly, there is no universally accepted evidence that Dry January is a healthy choice. It’s like the case of judge who ruled, “The evidence is clear.”  To which the lawyer replied, “Which evidence, your Honor? I've got three versions of it.”

I did an intensive Google search on the topic since if it's not on google it doesn't exist.  Google brought me back 100,000 answers so I went to my local librarian and got the right one  It seems there definitely is some evidence that quitting drinking, even for a short period, can reduce the risk of liver damage, improve blood-glucose levels, lower the risk of Alien Hand Syndrome, and even help with Coties Infestation. However, evidence that Dry January has any long-term positive results is simply not there especially if, as most always happens, participants return to their original drinking habits after the month is over. It’s not unlike many New Year’s resolutions that last a short time with no impact on the rest of the year.  Admittedly I’m usually in that group but not this year.  My New Year's resolution is to break my New Year's resolutions. So far, so good.

To me Dry January is like a crash diet.  The research on that is clear. Diets that focus on a period of restriction instead of long-term changes result in a speedy return to prior habits and a loss of any short-term health benefits. I know that’s true from personal experience. I once tried a crash diet where I only ate celery. I'm not sure if I lost weight or just got really good at chewing air.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to abstain from drinking, but proponents of Dry January often seem to be saying, "I'm better than all of you." It’s usually subtly stated or apparent reading between the lines in their thousands of posts on the subject.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure these abstainers are basically very nice people. They probably believe they’re better than drinkers but feel bad about it.  I guess you can say they have an inferiority complex about their superiority complex.

I’m guessing more than a few Dry January people count down the days to Wet February.  But maybe not. Many of that same crowd are now trying to push “Sober February," sometimes called "Dry February".  Right, not very original. And why February? My guess is they picked it since it’s the shortest month of the year and they could return to normal drinking just a tad sooner.  Then again, maybe they realized that without Valentine's Day, February would be, well, January,

Even the most strident Dry January supporter would have to admit having a drink now and then is fun. And relaxing. And good for you. It’s a proven medical fact that beer drinking, ah, make that moderate beer drinking (international law requires that adjective) can improve heart health (higher "good" cholesterol), makes for stronger bones (silicon, B vitamins), lowers diabetes risk, improves cognitive function due to antioxidants, adds needed fiber, provides nutrients, and can help you solve creative problems faster.  As a bonus beer can lower your risk of heart disease.  And that’s for only one beer. Imagine how healthy you’ll be if you drink a case.

 You’ve probably heard the often misattributed to Benjamin Franklin, quote that "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy," Although Franklin actually wrote that about wine his point was well taken. One study from 2023 found that drinking beer literally makes you happier. Really. Now that’s a big deal especially since you can’t just go out and buy happiness.  Well, that might not be 100% true. After all, bet you’ve never seen a sad person in a Lamborghini. To get the definitive answer to that question I’m now accepting donations to test that theory. No personal checks, please.

If you intend to do Dry January everyone here at Beer Nexus Headquarters  is more than happy to join you for your sober activities and promise not to force you to do any keg stands. Remember that just because we enjoy going out for beer doesn't make us boring people. We read books. We drink coffee.  We see movies. We go the gym. We’re simply normal drinkers. We always stop when we’re done which is usually just before the part where one of us tries to fight a lamppost.

So, as we enter this new year, some advice to all my friends who are giving up alcohol for the month, please do Dry January responsibly and of course, do it in moderation. 

That's Cold

by Vince Capano

Every dive bar has a default mode when it comes to serving beer.  Part one is the use of the dreaded shaker pint. There are more of them in use than the number of paperclips, pushpins, and Post-It notes on my desk right now (studies have shown it will take approximately 18.4 lifetimes to use them all) times  the number  of  the jumble of wood, plastic, and wire hangers found in my elderly aunt’s downstairs  closet, multiplied 1,207  times by the amount  of people (you know who you are)  who repeatedly press the elevator button in the hope that will make it moves faster. If that’s all a bit confusing then just consider the total number of folks terminated in a John Wick movie.

Part two of the protocol is that the shaker pints have to be totally frozen. The beer itself is only required to be very. very cold. That of course is understandable; if it was the same temperature as the glass you’d chip your tooth trying to drink it. I was reminded of these requirements when I visited my local bar, Hoover’s Tavern.  It was recently voted “best dive bar in the county”, though I’m still not sure if being the best in that category means you’re actually the worst.

At Hoover’s all beers are served in glasses picked from a large ice box smack in the middle of their rectangular bar.  As such, most bartenders there carry personal frostbite insurance. To avoid the look of disdain from other customers and a most menacing glare from the oversized bouncer I chose not to plead for one of the three  non frozen glasses available and accepted my beer as served.  It made my pint of Founders Red Flannel ale taste eerily like a Michelob Double Super Preposterously Light Ultra.  However, on ordering another pint I softly said, ”use the same glass”. The bartender nodded gratefully thinking I was trying to lessen her workload not realizing the beer would now taste the way it should. I had beaten the system. It's sort of like asking the folks at Chipotle to individually package all your ingredients so you can assemble them at home.

You’d be surprised at the satisfaction of winning against the odds in such a hostile environment. The moral of the story is when the system beats you don’t give up no matter what the circumstances. For example, one time I was devastated when a computer beat me at chess, Unbowed, I challenged it again. It was no match for me at kick boxing.

Sitting two bar stools to my left was a younger couple who clearly didn’t mind the frozen glass. In fact, they wanted more. And that more was ice.  Yes, ice in their beer.  It was a move that clearly verified their Gen Zer credentials.  That’s the generation that seemingly has cornered the market on oddball  trends like dry yogurt, ketchup-slathered Kit-Kat bars.  “dirty soda” (adding syrups and cream), "crackling lattes" (iced coffee in a chocolate-lined cup that cracks), dill pickle-flavored drinks. hot honey, ube, exotic fruit seltzers, "jammy eggs", and mocktails.  They are also the main force  behind the unprecedented growth of   nonsensical, illogical, and absurd non-alcoholic beers.

Hoover’s may be a dive bar but they do have standards, (albeit low) and no ice in beer is one of them. So, under threat of being not so gently removed from the bar the Zers had to defend their ice request. As fate would have it, a somewhat tipsy visiting barrister from London was sitting next to them. Ignoring a basic principle of jurisprudence that a person who represents himself has a fool for a client but money in the bank, they engaged his services.  The fee was three pints of English Bitter. At Hoover’s that meant Budweiser, Coors, or Miller Lite. In fact it didn't matter what you ordered, you were getting Budweiser, Coors, or Miller Lite.

Their first defense was that ice instantly cools warm beer. Unfortunately for this argument, Hoover’s doesn’t serve warm beer.  The barrister finally withdrew his statement when he noticed that a beer drinking old gent’s teeth were chattering – in the glass.

 Next they said ice keeps a cold beer from warming up.  Nice try, but if you drink that slowly you don’t deserve to be in a bar in the first place. 

Getting nervous, the barrister played the weather card saying that in hot and humid conditions, beer with ice is a necessity for hydration and refreshment.  Another loser.  Hoover’s has air conditioning in the summer and barely has the heat on in the winter. In fact, I once asked the bar manager for a space heater. He said it would have to be huge. I didn’t get it – neither the joke or the heater.

Then he said that in certain countries like Vietnam and Cambodia, serving beer with ice is a widespread and an accepted cultural practice, often with ice buckets provided on the table at beer gardens. Ah, but Hoover’s is in the USA.  Besides, many foreign customs just don’t fit here.  For example, in Japan workers bow to their bosses but I’ve found that enthusiastic applause for my bosses here at Beer Nexus usually suffice.

The next claim was that dilution from melting ice can mellow out the bitterness, making beer taste crisper and more palatable.  Look, if you don’t want any flavor in your alcoholic beverage then switch to vodka.  On second thought, vodka may not be the answer....but it's worth a shot

He ended by saying adding ice will dilute the beer content, which makes for a less-intoxicating drink.  Unless they’re in the witness protection program and alcohol makes them far too chatty, they promised their dog they’d be home at a reasonable hour, or the last time they drank, they woke up as the mayor of a small town in Wisconsin that argument falls flat..

I explained to them that we don’t put ice in beer because it almost immediately kills the flavor, texture, and aroma of the beer. It waters the beer down so much, and so quickly, that it destroys the entire tasting experience.  Ice reduces carbonation: leading to a flatter drink that’s thin and tasteless. And worst of all, too much ice can be dangerous. Watch the movie Titanic and you’ll understand.  I watched it twice.  I was convinced they weren’t dumb enough to hit the iceberg again.

Beer Nexus's contributor Paul Drake’s research has traced the ice in beer  fad to the United Kingdom where it is quite widespread among the younger crowd. In fact, a new survey there found that roughly 30% of drinkers under 35 drink beer with ice regularly.   If that’s not bad enough, it added that  the number doing it would be even higher if it wasn’t for “peer pressure forcing them not to do it”.  I personally don't believe in peer pressure. Ahh…. unless my friends do.

My biggest complaint about ice in beer is that even just a few cubes take up a significant amount of space in the glass that would normally be full of beer. 

It’s as simple as that.

Not So Great

by Vince Capano

The envelope please. The winners are…. Ah, forget it. They’re mostly beers you never heard of and you’ll never see. The recent Great American Beer Festival (GABF) held each year in Denver CO, is now just one big yawn. While I can't tell you who won, I can tell you who didn’t win an award there this year or any other year for that matter.  Sorry no award for Tree House Julius, Russian River Pliny the Younger, Toppling Goliath Kentucky Brunch Stout, Founders KBS, and Founders CBS just to name of few of what are generally considered great American beers.  How can anyone take this festival seriously? In fact, none of them have even won the "Most Enthusiastic About Not Winning An Award" award.  Personally, I've decided that all awards are overrated. What's the point of a shiny trophy when you can have the humble, comforting knowledge that you were overlooked?

Those famous beers are however in good company.  After all, Dean Martin who said "“You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.” never got an award,  Adolphus Busch  who said "You can only drink 30 or 40 glasses of beer a day,  no matter how rich you are." never got and award, W.C. Fields who said "If I had to live my life over, I'd live over a saloon. never got an award, and  Nostradamus, who predicted he would never get an award, never got an award,

The truth of it all is that, sadly, the GABF has become irrelevant to the average craft beer drinker. It used to be that a medal gave the recipient an invaluable marketing tool and helped yet another small, independent American business that couldn’t afford any sort of advertising get known. That’s no longer the case. That process is simply outdated. It’s enough to make me start crying into my Remington typewriter while I’m listening to my 8-track tapes.

The craft beer landscape has grown exponentially since the GABF's beginnings in 1987. In the just completed 2025 festival there were over 8,300 beers judged from more than 1,500 breweries.  That’s certainly a huge jump from the 99 beers entered in the first competition. The GABF boasts about statistics like those in the way a drunk uses a streetlight, for support rather than illumination.  While 1,500 seems an impressive number it’s not when you consider the total number of breweries in the country - 9,200+   So, this year’s entries were a tad more than 16% of all American craft breweries. That means nearly 84%  of all American breweries never even have a chance to be tasted by GABF judges. And yet these medals are intended to represent the best of American craft beer. In this case it’s fair to say that GABF’s use of statistics is the art of never having to say you're wrong.

The obvious conclusion is that out of that missing 84%, some of those beers will be better than the ones that take home the hardware.  And many brewers realize it.  I’m still waiting for one of the winners to say “I don't deserve this award, but I have arthritis and I don't deserve that either. " The festival is now less of a competition and more of a well-structed but essentially  underwhelming event.  It’s a glorious victory for the winners  but one that has a way of erasing memories of the reasons they might not have deserved their medals.

The GABF has responded to the growth in beer styles by adding new categories.  A lot of new categories.  While this allows more specialized beers to compete, it also means medals are distributed to styles that most people don’t care about or will never taste.  When’s the last time you saw or sought out a medal winning beer in categories like Grodziskie, Finnish-Style Sahti, Fruited Wood Barrel-Aged Semi Sour Beer,. American-Belgo-Style Ale, and Kentucky (Not California) Common? Don’t worry, you can still be a serious beer person and not care about every beer style. Some things are best left ignored.  

And then there are the subcategories.  For example, under Pumpkin you’ll find  Pumpkin Beer, Squash Beer. Pumpkin Spice Beer, Natural Pumpkin; under International Amber Lager there’s Franconian-Style Rotbier, Czech-Style Amber Lager, Mexican-Style Amber Lager, and Pick Any Country You Like Lager. Heck, this year there was even a category for Vera Hopped Beer, which had all the other hops feeling as disrespected as a soldier in the army who was issued a uniform that glowed in the dark.

Also disrespected are beers from the eastern and central parts of the country. It’s hard to accept the fairness of a national competition when California, Colorado, and Oregon account for 40–50% of the total medals awarded every year, including this one.  Of course, GABF organizers maintain that their blind judging (not blind judges) process is totally objective. They often site the case of a beer judge who was offered a bribe by two breweries. Brewery X gave him $10,000 and Y gave him $15,000. The ever-honest judge handed brewery Y a $5,000 refund. "Now that you're both even," he said, "I can decide this purely on its merits." It doesn’t get fairer than that.

The fact is that proximity to the festival’s long-time home, Denver, offers logistical benefits for Western breweries in shipping time and costs.   All things being equal (or unequal) fresh beer beats semi-stale beer every time. Beer is like a nacho. It can be yummy-crunchy or squishy-yucky. It just depends on how long it takes for you to start eating it

The short transit time for Western beers reduces the risk of beer being damaged by temperature fluctuations, excessive shaking, rough handling and many other shipping variables.   It’s often the same shippers that delivered a ceramic vase I ordered online. When it arrived, the delivery driver said, "It was a rough journey, but your puzzle pieces are all here".

The budding irrelevance of the GABF is being noted by more and more beer fans Ticket sales and attendance has dropped significantly in recent years compared to pre-pandemic highs.  The peak attendance was 65,000 in 2019.  This year it was under 34,000.  Once the festival sold out almost instantly, now the GABF struggles to almost fill the Colorado Convention Center.  Soon it will be as easy to get GABF tickets as it is to get some for the Svengoolie Sings Classic Arias concert featuring an opening act of Weird Al Yankovic playing Yoko Ono’s Greatest Hits on trombone.  Maybe even easier.

In a misguided effort to become more relevant the GABF now awards medals to non-alcoholic beer.  Yes, fake beer can get a serious beer award. This is supposed to save the GABF? It’s adding insult to injury, like having your car break down in the middle of nowhere just as it starts to storm.  Don’t get me wrong I respect NA beers and actually tried one last night. It was an enlightening experience; I discovered what my favorite ingredient in beer is.

All things considered maybe the GABF should change its name to the NSGABF - Not So Great American Beer Festival.

Prost!

 by Vince Capano

No oom-pah band, no Bavarian brass musicians, no traditional German folk songs, no polkas (I can’t really complain about that) and no rousing marches during the festivities celebrating Oktoberfest at my local German centric brewery, The Ram’s Stein.  Instead, the big crowd was serenaded by a lone singer strumming his well-worn guitar between beer breaks long enough for the entire New Your Philharmonic .to quench their thirst after playing Beethoven's Symphony  No. 5   Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries, and the William Tell Overture back to back to back. Few seemed to notice and even less cared. Today was about beer and nothing else.

The Rams’ Stein Brewery’s old school German legitimacy is proven by the ingredients they use. All their beers are made with only malt, hops, water, and yeast, not counting the occasional brewer’s shoe or paint chips from the ceiling.  Yes, they follow the famed German Purity Law, Reinheitsgebot (Gesundheit!).  Of course, purity doesn’t guarantee flavor but at least you won’t get sick, notwithstanding the two guys barfing in the far corner of the parking lot.  I think it was just a case of a bit too much sun.

The actual Oktoberfest opening ceremony in Munich begins with the "Parade of the Landlords and Breweries," followed by the Mayor tapping the first beer keg in the Schottenhamel tent and shouting, "O'zapft is!". Since most of the attendees at this world renown festival are tourists they have no idea what that means.  Most mistakenly think it translates to “start drinking”.

At that point, thunderous, deafening cheering begins because many have pre-lubricated themselves in the German version of American tailgating where the game is just the after-party, The festival now has officially begun for the eventual millions of folks who will attend. There is ample food for purchase, but true aficionados know that for the festival’s duration a balanced diet means a beer in each hand.

The Bavarian Minister-President is traditionally served the first liter as the drinking begins in the 14 large beer tents run by Munich's six major breweries.  Note that the standard glass size is a liter (just under 34 ounces) and not a pint (16 ox.).  A pint is for the person who likes beer. A liter is for those who don't like to walk to the bar.

Emulating the pageantry in Munich, Ram’s Stein also has an elaborate opening ceremony.  Two burly men in T-shirts designed to look like lederhosen (their fake tuxedo t-shirts were probably in the wash) brought out a small wooden keg to the crowded parking lot in front of the brewery.  They placed it on a makeshift platform as Ram’s Stein’s owner stepped forward to say a few welcoming words: “Enjoy yourselves today; you can't buy happiness, but you can buy our beer and that's pretty close.”

He then introduced the town’s mayor who came fully dressed (as opposed to partially} in grimy dark jeans and a smudged white t-shirt emblazoned with “Butler” on the front There was nothing else there to indicate if it was either the name of the town or his profession.  The mayor said only a very few words that strongly suggested he was not fond of public oratory. At a funeral he would probably much prefer being in the casket than giving the eulogy. The mayor was clearly that rare politician that doesn’t like speaking in public. As for me, I don’t mind it at all.  I speak to myself on the street every day.

The brewery owner now held out an appropriately sized tap to be pounded into the front of the little keg, as he said “pick up one of our souvenir tasting glasses for a free sample from the ceremonial keg”. The operative word for me was “free”; you don’t hear that too often nowadays. The last time I heard that was at a mall’s food court.  I picked up a small cracker topped with something and asked the server what it was. She said, “I don’t know what you just shoved in your mouth, I’m giving away toothpicks.”

Earlier I had seen one of the several boxes filled with 3-ounce plastic glasses and wisely took one to display on my desk at the Beer Nexus office.. All the glasses were made of faded plastic with a lengthwise joining mark that stood out about a half an inch right up to the lip.  Let’s just say it was not quite Waterford Crystal.  I really shouldn’t be too critical; it probably costs a lot of money to make them look that cheap.  Each glass had the date on it to make it truly a commemorative item, proudly saying “Ram’s Stein’s Oktoberfest 2008” The glasses may have been well past their expiration date but at least the beer wasn't.  And just think how less cluttered the brewery’s basement would be after today.

The mayor was given an apron to protect himself from any unwelcomed spray as he started to hammer the spigot in as the owner began a countdown from 10 to one in German.  When he got to”'nein" I figured he was refusing to continue so I stopped listening.  He didn’t.  At “eins” the spigot was fully inserted, and the first sample glass was filled and held aloft. It was a radiant moment as even the heretofore dour mayor smiled broadly proving once again that beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.

I had deftly worked my way to the front of the crowd to take a picture of the event (check out Beer Nexus’ picture page) as the owner waved this very first glass and asked, “who wants this?”. Surprisingly no one reached for it as it passed before me.  He waved it again with no takers.  It was then that I realized my responsibility to you the readers and the entire Beer Nexus family.  In your honor I grabbed it, only having to kick one antagonistic old lady with a cane and elbow a shady character in a wheelchair to get it.  

My sample was so good I immediately went to the main bar and purchased a “full pour” in a new clear plastic glass without logo or date.  The size of a “full” pour was not listed.  All I can say is if Shakespeare was right when he wrote “For a quart of ale is a dish for a king", then this was a size fit for someone several notches below indentured servant.  The price was $7; at those prices I would be facing an empty wallet by the end of the day.  Look, I believe poverty is no disgrace, but it is confoundedly inconvenient.

The day wore on and the beer continued to flow.  Countless times a random individual would stand up and lead everyone in earshot in a cheer of ““Oans, zwoa, drei, Gsuffa!”  I had no idea what they were saying so I just counted one, two, three, and drank my beer.  We were speaking different languages but we were all in the universal dialect of beer.

As the sun began to set and the festival wound down it was easy to see that although Butler NJ and Munich Germany are separated by thousands of miles they had been inexorably linked for a few short hours by the wonderous spirit of Oktoberfest.  Prost!.

Delorean Deliveries

by Vince Capano

It’s hard to believe but the proof that my local beer store had gotten a delivery via a DeLorean DMC-12, modified for time travel (it’s no longer standard equipment) was staring me in the face. Yes, here in very early August, with temps in the high 90’s, constant heat advisories, and non-stop air quality alerts, I find shelves filled with Oktoberfest beers.  I understand that October is a month that everyone falls for each year but not in the summer. Don’t get me wrong.  I like autumn.  It’s the only time of year when it's socially acceptable to wear a blanket as a shirt.

It's the premature onslaught of the entire extended family of Oktoberfest lagers —a range of related styles, from darker, sweeter Marzens to malty Vienna lagers to crispier Helleses — while I’m still drinking the usual summer swill, ah, I mean light lagers, lighter wheat ales, lighter yet pilsners, and, of course, New England IPAs.  The latter are simply impossible to avoid regardless of season. In fact, it’s easier to avoid work.  Unlike NEIPAs, work can be avoided if you remember that one of the greatest labor-saving inventions of today is tomorrow.

The original Oktoberfest took place in October of 1810 to celebrate a Princess bride, specifically the marriage of Crown Prince Ludwig and Princess Buttercup.  Although the nuptials were eventually thwarted by Dread Pirate Westley, the party went on thanks to celebrity brewer Inigo Montoya, whose catchphrase, “prepare to drink” became the theme of the celebration and countless ones that continue to this very day. 

In the 19th century, the festival shifted to September to take advantage of milder weather and longer days.  In addition, new laws mandated burning at the stake, flogging, boiling in oil, and the guzzling of only non-alcohol beer daily for 365 days for anyone convicted of making Oktoberfest beer too early in the year.  Enterprising brewers, however, quickly found a loophole – they began to make a similar style called Marzen. There seem to be loopholes everywhere but somehow ‘the only one I ever found was during COVID.  They were at the end of my mask and went around my ears.

Traditionally, Märzenbier was brewed in March hence the name “Märzen,” which is German for “March” (however Marzen in French, Italian, and Spanish is, well, “Marzen”). This was due to the Bavarian regulations that restricted beer brewing to the cooler months of the year between September and April. During the down months beer enthusiasts were forced to drink water (the stuff that rusts pipes) despite the fact that scientific studies of the day said water might be habit forming.

It was, of course, quite logical not to brew during the warmer months to prevent spoilage. In those days there was no electricity not even for the many refrigerators in Germany (the Frigidaire representative was one heck of a salesman). It took until the 1920s for half of the German  homes and breweries to have electricity.  So, in many areas, Märzenbier was brewed stronger and with a higher alcohol content to ensure it could be stored through the summer months without spoiling. It was lagered (stored) in cool cellars or mountain caves, often packed with ice, to facilitate the slow fermentation of the beer over the summer. By the time Oktoberfest arrived the Märzenbier was ready to enjoy. 

Quiz question – if they didn’t have refrigeration where did the ice come from to pack the caves? If you said Iceland or Greenland you’re wrong.  There was no actual need to import ice from anywhere. Brewers could just go down the street to 7-Eleven.

Now if you’re a big Oktoberfest beer fan you may have a dilemma. Should you rush to buy it in the summer when it comes out or face the prospect it will all be sold out long before  the actual festival in Munich  even starts, this year on September 20, 2025.  Dilemmas can be difficult.  My biggest one recently was do I eat the potatoes now or wait for them to ferment.

Beer distributors don’t have that sort of dilemma. They want Oktoberfest beers out on the shelves to be sold sooner rather than later.  They realize that when November comes around most people will not buy anything with an “Oktober” (or even October) on the label, especially a beer. It just looks old, sort of like me. I knew I was getting old when friends began telling me how good I look.

 Don’t worry, you probably won’t get sick if you drink an Oktoberfest beer in November or even December (for those faint of heart, just cover up the label).  Nonetheless, expiration dates are important especially with food. Be sure to check everything carefully. Including stuff in your kitchen cabinets. I did and saw an expiration date that was ten months past. Guess I waited too long to use the 250 million year old Himalayan salt.

The same thing goes for “Christmas” beers, After December 25th their sales plummet. That’s why many breweries have renamed the style “winter” beer.  Renaming things is not uncommon. For example,, Chinese Checkers isn’t a form of checkers, nor is it from China, but the name change made the German invented game sales improve.  Royal Mail, the UK's national postal service, became Consignia to better enter international markets, Ralph Lifshitz changed his name to Ralph Lauren (for obvious reasons), and Dixie Beer changed to Faubourg, a French word meaning neighborhood. That change, however, led to a big drop in sales in the US. The good news was that sales went up one 6-pack in France.

Brewers are not apologizing for the “season creep” in Oktoberfest beers. They see it as making the beer more accessible for a longer period which means more sales.  Some go as far as to suggest Oktoberfest, or the slightly less time restrictive name  “Fest” beer, is a “year round seasonal” (whatever that means). They see Oktoberfest beer as a critical brand asset that deserves longer exposure, wider markets, and earlier marketing. It’s now gotten to the point that if their Oktoberfest hits shelves in early September they’re already behind. The big players are already stocked. Retailers have already built displays, and distributors have moved on.  It’s as if everyone, concurrently, encountered the bane of all travelers, the ubiquitous time-warp continuum.

To me, releasing Oktoberfest beer in the middle of summer somehow diminishes the special appeal of all fall seasonal beers. It’s a violation of traditional beer calendar decorum. It makes the entire drinking experience inauthentic even if you’re sipping from a Maßkrug smuggled out of the Augustiner Festhalle and served by Dirndl clad Kellnerinnen. Wait, the dirndl is a deal changer.

It’s useless arguing against the non-season seasonal beer releases. Sales of these beers isn’t about tradition. It’s about competition.  — timing isn’t just about authenticity; it’s about being visible. And in an industry where the fight for shelf space gets more cutthroat each year, showing up late means missing out entirely.  So be prepared to enjoy all those fall beers after mowing the lawn in extreme summer heat, sitting in the boiling sun at a baseball game, or going to a backyard BBQ on the Sahara Desert.

By the way, if that DeLorean driver is taking orders I’m asking for a bottle of the legendary holy grail of beer, the original Ballantine Burton Ale. He can even deliver to me on a 100 degree day in the middle July.  I won’t complain.

Palate Improvement 

by Vince Capano 

Appreciating good beer doesn’t come naturally.  If it did Modelo Especial, and Michelob Ultra would  barely be acceptable to fleas on the rear end of a grimy, junkyard dog instead of the two top selling beers in America. The good news is it doesn’t have to be this way since a person’s palate can be taught to taste even the most subtle differences between beers not to mention other essential things ranging from wine to pizza to school glue.  For example, with a little education and diligent study anyone can learn to discern that Scholastic Clear Glue Sticks has an herbal flavor that melts away into a smoky, slightly overcooked string bean taste with a charred finish, Elmer's Glue Naturals (for those who prefer organic) features the flavor of green vegetables washed in Lava soap, and that Aleene's Tacky Glue boasts gentle sweet notes of ripe lemon and pool water just after the kiddie swim time. (For more info see the School Paste Review in the July 2025 issue of  Bon Appétit)

Unlike glue, the Beer Judge Certification Program, the Cicerone Certification Program, and the Otis Campbell / Norm Peterson Institute for Brewing Research  say there are just five fundamental tastes in beer.  They are: sweetness, bitterness, sourness, saltiness, and umami. They are detectable by taste buds on the tongue, and combine with aroma to create the overall experience of drinking a beer. Improve your palate and you won' be just drinking beer but tasting its special secrets.

Sweetness mainly comes from the malt in beer and can range from light and subtle to rich and caramel-like. particularly with styles such as porter, stout, or bock.  Think Young’s Double Chocolate Stout, Abita Strawberry Lager, Oskar Blues Death By Coconut, or DQ Brewing’s Thaumatin Terror, made from the katemfe fruit which can be up to a two- thousand times sweeter than table sugar.  Part of the popularity of such beers, like sweets in general, is their association with love and romance. Sharing a sweet dessert beer with a special someone is like lovers carving their initials in a tree.  That, however, is one tradition I don’t understand;  Why do so many people bring a knife on a date?

Bitterness is due to hop alpha-acids. These acids contribute to the "hoppy" aroma and flavor, including the bitter taste. Beer bitterness is measured by IBUs (International Bitterness Units). It's a scale that provides a numerical value to the perceived bitterness of a beer. The scale typically ranges from 0 to 120, though some beers can be measured far beyond that range. However, human taste buds are generally thought to max out around 100 IBUs, so beware, if the beer reaches over 999 IBU's there is a chance your mouth may explode. Please stop drinking the beer if that happens.

Sour tastes are found in sour ales (makes sense to me) like lambics and one of my favorite styles, Berliner Weisse. Who could ever forget President ‘John F. Kennedy’s stirring words on his 1963  trip to Berlin, Germany when he said “Ich bin ein Berliner Weisse” to thunderous applause.  (Finally, all those history courses I took paid off; you won’t find that reference on any other beer site.)

Sourness is primarily achieved through the use of specific bacteria and wild yeast strains during fermentation, which produce lactic acid and other acids, resulting in a tart or acidic taste. Different bacteria and yeast varieties, like Lactobacillus, Pediococcus, and Brettanomyces, bring a diverse range of sourness.  Note these are good bacteria, not like the dangerous E.coli bacteria and it’s sibling, Bro coli.

Salty is one of the more subtle flavors in beer. Salt in beer, whether added or naturally occurring in the brewing water, can enhance the flavor profile. It can balance bitterness, amplify sweetness, and even improve mouthfeel.  I once had a doctor tell me to give up beer because its salt content would increase my blood pressure.  I took his advice with a grain of salt. 

Umami is the savory taste you experience when drinking malty beer such as a dark stout or a barrel-aged beer. It’s a taste sensation found in foods like mushrooms, and aged cheeses. It was first identified in 1908 by Professor Ikeda Kikunae of Tokyo Imperial University in conjunction with Professor Bullwinkle J. Moose of Wossamotta U.  Professor Bullwinkle was the first researcher to determine that Umami has nothing to do with Edamame except for using a few of the same letters.

Training your palate to appreciate these five flavors takes focus and diligence.  Since IPAs are the most popular craft style in America it is essential to first determine how much bitterness you can enjoy. To do that, get three glasses, some water, and 1.5 cups of unsweetened grapefruit juice. Then, put 1/2 of a cup of grapefruit juice in each glass. Don’t add any water to the first glass but add 1/2 a cup of water to the second glass, and 1/4 a cup of water to the third.  Start by tasting the glass with 1/2 a cup of water added, then 1/4 a cup, and then the full glass of grapefruit juice. This will help to train your tongue to recognize the bitterness of hops and determine how much of that you prefer. As a side benefit, it will help you speak in several extinct ancient languages.

You can also do the above training method by substituting Bourbon for the grapefruit juice and omitting all the water.  It won’t help develop your beer palate but by the end of the session you won’t care.

Now that you’ve determined your hop bitterness threshold, it’s time to move on to the rest of the basic flavors. To do that, buy a light lager, a hoppy IPA, a creamy stout, and a sour beer. Look at the label to find out which beer has the qualities you’re looking for.  You can trust what the label says implicitly. However be aware that government regulations give a tiny bit of latitude to label descriptors. If it says, “crisp and refreshing," it might be as crisp as a damp cracker and as refreshing as water leaking from a city sewer lead pipe. If it proclaims "bold, rich flavor," it might taste like a stale pretzel dipped in stagnant pond water from the local recycling center. Not to worry since most brewers hold themselves to a higher standard of accuracy. That's as true as most anything you'll read on the Internet  

Next pour out small amounts of each beer and try to match it with one or more of the 5 basic flavors. If you can’t determine the flavor, pour another round.  It is possible this process may take several cases of beer but don’t worry, it’s all educational.

Continue to drink a wide assortment of styles, ranging from session beers up to the more complex ones.  The essential key is to practice, practice, practice. Not only will that enhance your beer palate, you just might wind up in Carnegie Hall.

BEER SPEAK

by Vince Capano

The best thing about beer is drinking it. The second best is talking about it. Actually, make that the third best thing since the second best is drinking even more beer. That's not to diminish beer chat since if you’re like most craft fans you really do enjoy sharing a bottle of some special brew with friends just to have a conversation about its tastes and qualities. Beer is about community, not drinking alone. Personally, I never drink alone. I usually have pretzels or chips with my beer.

The best example I’ve seen proving sharing is the essence of beer happened at Philadelphia’s legendary Monk’s Café.  At the small bar in the compact back room of the establishment I noticed a distinguished looking, silver haired gentleman sitting alone with a 750 ml bottle of Cantillon Drogone in front of him. After studying the label, he nodded to the bartender who deftly opened it with all the pomp and flourish due such a hallowed brew, though for some, the spotlight and trumpet player might have been just a touch over the top. The bartender carefully poured a glass. The gentleman in turn swirled, sniffed, and sipped, his smile growing with each phase of the process. He then got up and walked to each of the two populated tables in the room and asked if anyone would like to taste it.  One table declined, one cheerfully accepted.  I’ll let you guess which one I was seated at.

No surprise, the beer was superb.  According to the menu it was a “blend with the pomace of Aglianico grapes and 3-year-old lambic. Before blending with the lambic, the grapes underwent a 3-month pellicular maceration in chestnut barrels.” I hadn’t seen that when I first looked at the menu.  I had stopped reading anything after I saw the $149 tab.

The gentleman then casually asked each one in our group what we thought of it.  I went with “soft notes of citrus, hint of fresh grass, stone fruit, oak, mineral water, and faint cherry notes, most likely from a tree in the botanical gardens in the west side of the small town of Brooklyn, Belgium.”  I have that description memorized since it’s my go to one whenever anyone asks me to describe any Belgium beer, French wine, or stick of deodorant. To make my response seem more authentic I used a heavy Belgium accent tinged with echoes of a Brooklyn (the one in New York) twang   Hey, when you’re at Monk’s Café, gravitas counts.

As the generous guy and his bottle wandered off to the main front bar area I began wondering if my description was a bit unworthy of such a pricey beer. In my defense, back in the day, in a time before craft, not much of a vocabulary was needed to describe any beer.  Cold, wet, and yellow in both appearance and flavor just about covered every brand available.  And it was perfectly accurate. Then the craft revolution occurred and necessitated an entirely new descriptive language that nowadays borders on thesaurus abuse.

In those halcyon craft days, it was sufficient to describe a beer as an IPA or a lager.  Now, we’re dealing with things like a high-density, hop-charged beers with Thiolized yeast and a side-pull Czech-style mlíko pour. Back then there was no Internet to help we drinkers speak a language to describe the differences among styles and iterations on them. Then, dramatically, beer vocabulary exploded when  the American Homebrewers Association was formed in 1978. They started homebrew competitions necessitating terminology to define styles.  I, however, have not been overly impressed with the current depth of their lexicon. Is it asking too much for them to use a few more words than “undrinkable” and “lousy” when judging my homebrews?  

Next came  Michael Jackson, whose 1984 book, World Guide to Beer, introduced drinkers to the idea of beer classifications and descriptors. Lucky for us all that Mr. Jackson had taken a few days off from his regular job to wash multiple pairs of his iconic gloves and pen this essential tome. Reading it is like taking a free Uber too a great beer bar. You can indulge with no worries. Quick disclaimer to the many children who regularly read this column (they like the pictures) Remember, kids: never get in cars with strangers unless you've used an app to select a specific stranger to drive you around in their car

A year later, in 1985, the Beer Judge Certification Program (BJCP) was founded, providing a comprehensive breakdown of styles and their characteristics. Yes, there really are people who judge beers.  It’s the classic Henny Youngman line come true - “a drunk goes in front of a judge. The judge says, "You've been brought here for drinking." The drunk says, "Okay, let's get started." The joke has become reality.

The BJCP definitions are also the foundation of the Cicerone program (think sommeliers for beer), which began in 2007.  I was fortunate enough to attend certification training sessions given by the program’s founder, Ray Daniels.   He started the course with a joke, saying “a Cicerone walks into a bar and orders a water. The bartender says, "Don't you want a beer?" The Cicerone replies, "Only if it has a properly balanced malt profile and hop aroma." I didn’t get it then and still don’t.   

Following traditional public speaking guidelines to begin and end with a joke, Mr. Daniels concluded the last session by saying: “Why was a Cicerone mad at the bartender? Because the bartender kept saying things like, "It's all about the beer, not the experience!" Proving learning pays off, I got that one.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t on the test, so I guess it didn’t matter.

Some sophisticates claim that when craft aficionados talk about what they see, smell, taste and feel in a beer, they are just parroting wine terminology. I looked up some wine reviews and in general a lot of their jargon really doesn’t fit beer. Wine’s vocabulary is more esoteric, obscure, complex, mysterious, and mystic. My guess is that’s because - hope you’re sitting down for this revelation - beer is not wine.  Beer comes with a completely different aura, undercurrent, background, and even different drinkers. Beer has always had a more egalitarian nature. Look, a beer drinker will invite you over to their garage to show you their new beer fridge. A wine drinker will invite you to their cellar to show you their ancient bottle collection and then ask if you have any questions about the complex tannins.

To be fair to beer, nowadays you really do need an entire dictionary to just begin addressing all the language used to discuss it. Descriptors like unwashed gym socks, 2-year-old salad dressing, rusted 12d nails, fermented Costco bandages, moldy basements in Ecuador, and soiled disposable baby diapers just begin to tell the story. However, be careful not to buy a beer dictionary written by a prohibitionist.  I did; all the pages were blank. I didn’t have words to describe how angry I was.

While all this tasting terminology can reach dizzying heights (or is it depths) it is important to remember that sometimes no words are needed.  The  fact is that sometimes a beer is just a beer. And that’s all you really need to say.

Saving Craft Beer

by Vince Capano

Old breweries don’t die, they just fade away…..and then die.  Nowadays you can put scores of new ones in that terminal group too. The fact is that in the last calendar year more craft breweries have closed then opened and beer sales have continued to slump dramatically. Search "craft beer" on Google and you’ll easily disprove the old truism that the best place to hide a dead body is on page 2 of a Google search, The results for closed breweries goes on for page after page of doom-and-gloom. These failed breweries found that their sales were like a stream in the desert. It's there, but it doesn’t help much. Perhaps the only consolation for these bankrupt brewers is that at least they don’t have to worry about identity theft.

The head in the sand crowd says that craft beer is a maturing industry and as such is experiencing some contraction after years of explosive growth. They say the numbers don't look great, but it's important to remember this isn't a death knell, just a sign of change. Well, dying is a change too, a big one. In this case we can blame changing tastes, generational mores, mediocre beer, price raising greedy owners, and the domination of New England IPA. Brewery owners tried, but it turns out 'passion' isn't a viable business model.

Those new to drinking (especially the fake ID crowd) might not realize that in a time long ago, before New England IPA, there was once a huge boom in craft beer.  If you opened a brewery people came; it was a simple yet effective concept. It was as simple and as basic as my personal plan to make easy money - find it on the street. So far, I've made $1.37.  

Making money by opening a brewery was so foolproof that some places even used fake brewing equipment to imply they were an actual working facility. More than a few even filled their ersatz vats with contract brewed beer. The beer was practically self-selling unless a wise guy asked too many questions. In a way I guess these places weren’t really lying; they just were using advanced marketing techniques... wily misdirection.

Those hoped-for brewery gold mines did not lead to perpetual prosperity for most. However, it did lead to an industry that became over saturated. Eventually that saturation itself became saturated with the monster that is currently in the process of eating itself - New England IPA.  In the rush to join the hazy bandwagon, many breweries launched and produced NEIPAs in amounts that dominated their portfolio.  Unfortunately, much of it wasn’t very good thanks to minimum know-how and less than stellar quality control measures.  Even worse, a good number of brewers didn’t really care about the style so they just cranked it out confident that anything with Juicy New England on the label would sell.  One brewery (Brix City) said it outright by naming their beers “Just Another NEIPA”, “Just Another Double NEIPA”, and the inevitable “Another Just Another NEIPA”. Note to brewers from Mark Twain: "whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect." 

Consider that the craft industry saw a huge period of growth and innovation roughly from the late 1970s to the early 2010s when West Coast IPA was the undisputed king of craft.  Once it was dethroned by the take no prisoners haze craze we’ve experienced three consecutive years of falling craft sales. Coincidence?? It was Hegel, or Marx, or maybe Vanilla Ice who said that within any established system or society, or product there are inherent flaws or contradictions that will eventually lead to its demise.” Or as Yogi Berra put it more succinctly: “Nobody drinks it anymore, it's too popular.”

If an avalanche of fruity juice bombs from New England weren’t already dooming the beer biz, now comes “Northern IPA” and “Savory IPA”.  Northern IPA, is an idea apparently concocted to sell a new yeast strain, while  Savory IPA uses MSG for the purpose of “stimulating your umami receptors" (whatever  that means). It all reminds me of a self-stirring coffee mug I purchased. It's amazing. It does... absolutely nothing that couldn't be done with a spoon. The result is a slightly heavier mug.

Noted home brewer Paul Simon’s lament cries out from the depths of the current craft crisis “Oh where have you gone West Coast IPA, our dying beer nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Woo, woo, woo. What's that you say, beer drinkers, West Coast has left and gone away. Oh no, no, no.” 

Where have you gone Palate Wrecker, Racer 10, Alimony Ale, Sculpin, RuinTen, the Kraken and so many more?   Maybe it’s not too late for the return of that legion of bitter, piney, 90+IBUs IPAs to save craft.  Hopefully beer drinkers will realize these are dangerous times and not be like  George Armstrong Custer who said “Indians, schmindians! There are not enough Indians in the world to defeat the Seventh Cavalry.”

The West Coast of the United States has brought us Starbucks, Yahoo, and Yacht Rock. It’s given us football’s pass-first offense, I Love Lucy reruns, hacky sack, Taco Bell, Grunge music, Beanie Babies, and the Kardashians.  However, in a single stroke they atoned for those atrocities with West Coast IPA. It goes to prove that every dark cloud has a silver lining, but then again, lightning kills hundreds of people each year who try to find it. 

By the way, we’re talking about real West Coast IPAs, not the “West Coast Style” ones. They’re very different things, like the difference between Bruce Li, Bruce. Lee, and the vegetable that knows kung fu, Broclee.

West Coast IPA means hops, namely the “C” varieties, Cascade, Centennial, and Chinook. They are the main hops that launched the decidedly bitter, clear, strong, piney, minimum malt, knock your socks off avalanche of hop-forward flavor that took over the world, once upon a time. Some say that once upon a time never comes again but in this case it must. The comeback of West Coast IPA will revitalize beer. It will be like viewing the movie Godzilla backwards - a dinosaur passionately pieces a city back together before moonwalking into the sea.  It's a happy ending for all.

It's time for action. Contact your members of Congress and demand the passage of the "Save Craft Beer Act" that mandates all breweries must have at least 5 real West Coast IPAs on draft at all times. They may  have one line reserved for a NEIPA to satisfy non-beer drinkers and those with weak palates. Other taps can dispense those styles brewers really want to make but nobody wants to drink, 

Today in New York City two statues proudly stand in honor of famed newspaper man, Presidential candidate, and crusading reformer - Horace Greeley.  Back in 1865 he gave us the way to save beer here in 2025 when he wrote those immortal words:  “Go West, young man, Go West.!"  

They're After Us

by Vince Capano

Circle the wagons. Get behind the barricades. Bolt the doors.  Put on your pentagram t-shirt and break out the garlic necklaces. They’re coming. The neo-prohibitionists are on the march and they’re after us. Don’t worry, when the big showdown comes I’ll lead the way into battle….from right behind you.

There’s now another haymaker thrown out by the anti-drinking crowd. It logically follows on the heels of the recent, highly publicized study that said drinking beer (or any alcohol) even moderately can cause cancer or, in some cases, rheumatism, sore feet, halitosis, hang nails, bunions, and memory loss.  And memory loss.  And memory loss.

This anti-drinking study comes from a group of UK scientists who say that serving smaller beers, specifically removing the standard pint and replacing it with a two-thirds pint size glass would reduce alcohol consumption across the board. The researchers found that when pubs and bars switched to the smaller glass beer sales dropped by nearly 10%. Based on that insight there’s a growing movement to outlaw the pint in bars to protect us from ourselves. The report dramatically claims that when you drink a single pint of beer you shorten your lifespan by 9 minutes. According to that calculation, I died sometime in 1879.

Even the most ardent beer drinker must admit that the report’s logic is beyond reproach - if you serve beer in a smaller glass you’ll drink less. That’s at least until you order again. It’s akin to a pub I recently went to where the bartender said my order of a 7.9 % ABV beer only comes in an 8-ounce glass. “It’s our policy for all high alcohol beers” he said.  I nodded in total agreement, ordered two, then politely asked him to put both in one glass.  The bartender thanked me for doing the environmentally correct thing, acknowledging the saved water and dishwasher electricity by cleaning one glass instead of two. I was happy to do my part in lowering the bar’s carbon footprint. In fact, I always strive to reduce my personal carbon footprint in everything I do.  Now I drive everywhere instead of walking..

The research was published in the prestigious British medical journal PLOS Medicine and its recommendation  concerning the  two-thirds pint was picked up by all sorts of media and spread around the globe. The World Health Organization then quickly weighed in saying the smaller glass would be a “boon for public health by lessening the extent of beer related suffering and unhappiness”. Finally, that controversial group said something we all can agree with – you can’t find happiness at the bottom of a pint. Hey, who in the world would be happy when their beer is finished?

The report went on to assert that any drinking at all was harmful, saying “drinking beer is worse than smoking”.  It claimed that two pints of beer is “as deadly as 10 cigarettes” and that if you “drank 35 beers a week it could slash a staggering two years off your lifespan”. I certainly don’t want that to happen to me so for the past month, every day I say, “Bob, you’ve got to stop drinking so much beer.” I’m so glad my name isn’t Bob.

To support their recommendations the report cites a bevy of startling and scary statistics which were arrived at by, to use the researchers own technical term, “cause-specific modeling”. It’s essentially a prediction based on assumptions that are open to a variety of interpretations. In the old days they had no such tools as “cause-specific modelling” so they had to fall back on simply making things up, which is pretty much the same thing. Let’s be kind and just say that facts are stubborn things, but statistics are pliable.

Research team leader, Professor Dame Theresa Martea at the University of Cambridge, summarized her team’s findings by saying “While we may all enjoy a drink, the less we drink the better our health. Removing the largest serving size for beer - the pint — could encourage people to drink less.”  The Professor somehow failed to realize how effective her theory would be if we just eliminated the glass entirely. Messy but effective.

Many a watering hole has been intuitively practicing Professor Marteau’s ideas long before the report came out.  When you go into a bar or restaurant and order a pint of beer you may think you’re getting 16 ounces but that’s not the case. It’s more like14 ounces. Or 13, or even 12. You can thank the use of the dreaded “cheater pint”, the bantam-weight shaker-style glass that offers a maximum of just 12-14 ounces (or less) of liquid depending on the size of the head. Those shaker pints are so named because they're the kind used in combination with a metal cup to shake cocktails and not because their deceptive shape shakes money out of your pocket. The next time you’re in a drinking establishment just look around – there they sit waiting to rip you off. According to leading acousticians, silence is a sound that cannot be measured. It seems that applies to the size of a pint of beer too.

What the study does not take into account is that reducing beer drinking volume is not the same as reducing beer intake overall. Interestingly, places that have gone to the two-thirds pint glass in the UK saw a significant rise in wine sales along with a decrease in beer sales.  It’s easy to see that the consumer is migrating to higher alcohol products to compensate for the smaller beer serving size. For some reason these drinkers just aren’t getting the 2/3 pint, teetotaler message.  Don’t they realize if God wanted us to drink alcohol he’d have given us all stomachs?

Most news stories, including those from traditional media, seem to always parrot the neo-Prohibitionist line. Studies such as those of Professor Marteau always make international headlines, but when they are later discredited, the media barely notices. And it doesn’t stop there. In addition to funding research studies the Neo-prohibitionists seek to significantly reduce or stop alcohol consumption by a variety of ways ranging from increased taxes and propaganda to legislation restricting marketing and availability. It’s just a more sophisticated version of techniques used by anti-alcohol groups that pushed the passage pf the 18th Amendment (Prohibition) .As Mark Twain said, “History never repeats itself, but it does often rhyme.” It’s all enough to make you want to cry into your beer but if they have their way you’ll be denied the beer to cry into.

The propaganda from the neo-prohibitions has already made inroads with many drinking people. Most notable is the case of Australian Greg Taylor, 73,.  He announced on social media that he has set an ambitious target to phase out his alcohol consumption within the next 29 years, as part of an impressive plan to improve his health. The program will see Mr. Taylor continue to drink as normal before reducing consumption in 2054 when he turns 101. He said it was important not to rush the switch to non-alcoholic beverages and that "this requires a steady, phased approach." 

Clearly Mr. Taylor is the voice of reasonable compromise.

Dive Right In

by Vince Capano

They don’t have names like The Grand Imperial, The Heritage House, Rolling Hills Manor, or The Royal Oak Tavern at the Grand Summit Building.  Instead, you’ll see things like Johnnie’s Bar, Hoover’s Tavern, The Whiskey Lounge, The Libertine Saloon, or Liberty Grill.  Simple, honest American names evocative of what awaits you inside the door – a dive bar.  Now before you say those types of places must be disreputable, small, dingy, and filled with seedy characters take time to really look at them closely and you’ll see they all serve beer. That’s all it takes to transform any small, dingy, place with disreputable clientele into one that’s intimately compact, soothingly dark, and enlivened by decorous, colorful locals. Beer you see is a magical transformational potion.  Hey, if it can make you think you are good looking and a glorious dancing machine anything is possible.

The popularity of dive bars is blossoming around the country.  Major publications even have lists of the best dive bars though I’m not sure if the winners are the best because they’re so good or because they’re the worst of the worst.  Don’t worry when you go, dive bars are quite safe since they almost always have prominently posted signs prohibiting the wearing of colors and the carrying of weapons. Even more, the signs usually feature multiple exclamation points so bold that no troublesome hooligan would dare defy its mandate.  

Discerning patrons will of course appreciate the attention to cleanliness in today’s dive bar. Significantly, your shoes will barely stick to the floor on your way to the restroom where you’ll find that the sheet of stainless steel on the wall is more reflective than any mirror and, most importantly, it’s unbreakable. Don’t laugh, I broke a mirror once and got seven years of bad luck, but my lawyer thinks he can get me five.

Th easiest way to make friends on your first visit to a dive bar is to buy a round for the house. You don’t have to order something pricey; a glass of cold Pabst and a shot of Johnnie Blue Scotch or Pappy Van Winkle  bourbon would do nicely.  And please, no fancy drinks that smell like a girl who didn’t shower and just splashed a lot of perfume on.

Most of the Beer Nexus staff celebrate Fridays (along with most days ending in Y) by stopping at Honest John's Bar and Grill, a classic dive bar whose owner is neither John nor honest. Their policy is not to keep olives, cherries, celery, or onions behind the bar. The only thing you’ll find is a supply of little umbrellas for people who order craft beer. Irascible owner Otis Criblecoblis told me that “I don’t tolerate people who come in and say, 'Can I have a Diet Coke with a slice of orange, two cherries, and olives?' This is a tavern, not a fruit stand!” He has a point. I've enjoyed many olives when drinking countless martinis over the years but now admit that liquor does very well by itself. No more three olives on a toothpick in my drink.  And going olive free means I don’t have to worry about putting my eye out each time I take a sip.

Dive bars are about basics. The bartender there is not a snooty mixologist creating a fashionably chic cocktail; he makes drinks.  To be accepted it’s best to ask for gin or vodka on the rocks or a bourbon or scotch neat.  If you order a screwdriver you will likely be asked “flathead, Phillips, or vodka?”. Pick the wrong one and you’ll soon be unceremoniously escorted out the door.

When you go to a dive bar the appropriate dress is recommended. Wearing neatly pressed pants, a cravat in a well-formed Windsor knot, and classic finery from head to toe is not the thing to do. Wearing underwear is about as formal as needed.  Dress like a normal person, i.e., someone who puts on clothes that they bought for work, drives through traffic in a car they are still paying for in order to get to a job that they need to pay for the clothes, car and house that they leave empty all day in order to afford to live in it. No wonder normal people drink so much beer. They’ll never be able to buy happiness, but they can buy beer which is just about the same thing.

If you’re a bit hungry many dive bars offer a variety of food that run the gamut from A to A.  Some even have a full complement of cooking equipment - a griddle.  If you see anything vaguely resembling a oven, stove, or tryer it probably means you’re not in a real dive bar.  In any event don't ask for a menu, they probably don’t have one. Just order a burger and a beer.  Odds are you’ll only get what they have available - a small bag of almost fresh chips. Don’t complain, just lower your epicurean standards.  Gourmet food is, after all, a subjective term.  The fact of the matter is a steamed link sausage, served on an artisan brioche roll and plated with pommes frites is really just a hot dog and fries.

Dive bars often get crowded on a weekend nights so finding a spot to sit or stand demands careful logistical acumen. Under no circumstances stand directly in front of the pub’s dart board. If you don’t get my point then you just might get the point.  Similarly, it’s strongly recommended that you do not back up against a pool table when in use. especially if there’s a wager on the line.  It’s just a game but money is how they keep score.  Nothing is worse than an angry pool player since his cue stick is a multi-attack weapon. In one episode of The Walking Dead an incensed pool player hit two zombies in one swing. Its effectiveness, however, left a bit to be desired, it didn’t even knock them down. It just pushed them back slightly. Zombies may be dumb and slow but they’re not weak.  Who else do you know that can break through a coffin and climb up through 6 feet of dirt?

So what makes a bar a real dive? Of course, the main activity there has to be drinking. No karaoke, no open mike  or comedy nights, and definitely no bar trivia. A TV can be there, but it should be old, unremarkable and tuned to reruns of Gilligan’s Island or a Mets spring training game from 2011. They can have a few lines of craft beer but you have to order by their tap handle number from a typed list of which only 2 copies exist, one of which has been lost. You’ll find the other list is barely readable due to Jameson and Old Milwaukee stains.

Please note here’s no such thing as a new dive bar. Its original owner should have had a social security number in single digits. It needs to have been there long enough to attract a good number of regulars who know that they’ve taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of them.  Deep down they realize that booze may not be the answer but it’s worth a shot.

The best dives still do buy-backs, in which the bartender gives loyal customers a “tin roof”-  drink on the house.  It’s a time-honored saloon tradition. Nowadays new technologies in the bar business keep exacting tabs on cash flow and drink sales that  make the buyback a rarity. It's a technology sufficiently advanced to be indistinguishable from magic, black magic in this case.. 

The bottom line is that a dive bar is one of the few places left in the modern world where people from 80 to 8 years-old (checking ID is not their strong suit) can just sit around and talk over a beer It is the ultimate shrine to the simple pleasure of drinking.  It’s where to go to for a taste of inexpensive authenticity, served proudly up in shot glass of cheap whiskey and a pint of bargain basement lager.  After all, life’s too short to drink expensive alcohol.

Rate No More

by Vince Capano

Mark Twain is said to have read his own obituary, and then remarked, “The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.” Well, the same cannot be said about the website RateBeer. Its death has not been exaggerated; As of Feb. 1, 2025, it officially shut down. Now you might be thinking you don’t care and what was Rate Beer anyway.  And that’s exactly why it’s gone to rest in the big cloud in the sky. For the disbelievers out there just go to the site and you’ll find a, video announcing its demise. It’s a great 10-minute speech on the closing. The only problem is it’s about an hour long.

RateBeer was established in 2000, with the goal to have drinkers, well, rate beer. It also helped folks learn about breweries anywhere in the world and to follow new beers as they were released. As for the most important thing, the ratings, they told you what you should like. Or else.

Rate Beer was an alleged people’s forum but as in most such sites, a small handful of self-described aficionados drove the site. Often reviews were too glowing or too negative. Most of the optimistic writers were the type that saw any new beer as a drinking opportunity, while the dismissive ones seemed to forget that a brewery is only as good or bad as the beer they’re serving right now. They often condemned an entire brewery for one “bad” beer ignoring the possibility that it’s next creation might put Pliny the Elder to shame. Like they say, even a blind squirrel’s broken clock finds a nut twice a day. 

In the exhilarating onset of the craft beer boom, beer rating sites were a way of talking to a worldwide beer community, including brewers themselves. There’s the story of a RateBeer review from a drinker who bought a growler of Dogfish Head’s Snow Blower Belgian Style Ale that had some major problems. Less than 30 minutes after posing his negative review the writer received a Direct Message from Dogfish Head’s owner Sam Calagione who apologized for the state of the beer and offered to send a free freshly capped bottle directly from the brewery. Clearly, those were the very, very early days of craft. Nowadays most brewers would dismiss any criticism as the ranting of a drunken loon; They just refuse to listen. It’s that kind of apathy that is a curse in today’s world, but I don’t really care.

Like so many crowdsourced sites (and craft breweries) who swore they’d remain independent, RateBeer went the sellout route. If these guys were a musical instrument, they be a lyre. In 2017,,Anheuser Busch bought a minority stake in RateBeer from owner Joe Turner, Two years later, AB took full ownership. Some insiders said that AB really wanted to access RateBeer’s demographic data, while other fans and brewers feared it would try to muscle their products into more prominent rankings. Surprise - Bud is now rated the Best Beer In The World!

The sale led many raters to quit posting while some brewers demanded that their beers be removed from the site. Under AB’s ownership the website slowly became virtually unusable despite moderators behind the scenes trying to keep it functioning. Their effort, however, was much like trying to use a thesaurus to find synonyms for useless - the result was futile.

Hastening the fall of RateBeer, was the exploding power of the undisputed king of the world’s beer rating websites, Untappd (so they forgot an “e”, I have no respect for a person who can spell a word only one way). Untapped was founded in 2010, as a beer-rating app that encourages users to “check in” the beers they’re drinking, along with the physical location like a bar, restaurant, home, shower, opera house, dojo, velodrome, the Guggenheim, or port-a-john.,

Unlike its predecessor RateBeer, Untappd was conceived as a mobile app rather than a website. It eschewed forums and discussion boards in favor of rating and tracking beers consumed. Its stated goal was to “open up beer ratings to the masses” rather than reserving the privilege for a select group of judges, writers, or insiders. That’s the crowd of snobs who don’t see themselves as elites; they believe they’re far better than that. If one of them had to change a light bulb they’d hold it still since the whole world revolves around them.

Supporters of Utapped say the difference between it and RateBeer is like the difference between a feudal system and democracy.  In a democracy, it's your vote that counts, in feudalism, it's your Count that votes. In response Untappd’s critics say that now, years after its creation, the beer-rating platform has evolved into something that only reflects the tastes of a narrow subset of beer drinkers. That’s not an unimportant charge since the movers and shakers in the beer industry often use Untappd ratings to make major decisions including what beers to make, sell, and buy. Considering the continuing decline in beer sales maybe they’d be better off just consulting a psychic. On second thought that might not work either.  After all, when was the last time you saw a headline like 'Psychic Wins Lottery'?

According to the Beer Wholesalers Association, Untappd scores begin to encourage a purchase when they are above 3.7, scores below make almost no difference. Anything over 4.0 experiences a major spike in sales. They also said that statistics showed consumers give more credence to reviews they know were posted via a mobile device believing they show more physical effort which means more credibility (caveat - 43% of all statistics are worthless). Logically then, the best physique makes for the best beer rater. So that has to be Arnold Schwarzenegger. Don’t laugh, he did famously say: “Milk is for babies. When you grow up you have to drink beer”. I wonder what he’d say about milk stout.

Aggregate ratings are free to anyone with a smartphone and the ease of the Untappd interface makes it much more appealing than just about any other format. Their scale of one-to-five promises to quantify the most potent magic in craft beer- hype. Hype, like the Internet, is full of strong opinions with little information to back them up.  If you're okay taking beer advice from a reviewer who writes his entire experience as "This smelled like a fart! One out of five," (that’s a real review), then fine.. But how do you process a complaint about beers exhibiting traits that are expected of their styles. "I hate this beer because it's smoky? And what the heck is, a Rauchbier?” 

The bad news is the number ratings from bozos count as much as those from non-bozos, and that gleaming final score at the top of the page is more influential than most people realize or brewers are willing to publicly admit. Their attitude is akin to Chuck Norris admitting to using stunt doubles in his films, .....but only for the crying parts. 

As far as I know there isn’t anything similar to Rate Beer or Unapped for websites like Beer Nexus.  Maybe that’s just as well. After all, I subscribe to the theory that unless a reviewer has the courage to give me unqualified praise, I ignore the reprobate's witless ramblings.

Arid January 

by Vince Capano

How did Dry January work out for you?  You know, the first 31 days of the new year in which many people choose to abstain from all alcohol consumption.  Like other fads – licking stuff at the grocery store then putting it back on the shelf, eating a tapeworm to lose weight, dressing up like an evil clown, phone booth stuffing (younger readers will have to look up “phone booth”), or smashing a gallon of milk at the grocery store to watch the cleanup- Dry January is equally incompressible. Nonetheless, its proponents and participants deluge us with insufferable bragging and recruiting on social media and mainstream forums. In fact, even the New York Times wrote an editorial encouraging everyone to join the dry challenge. Typical newspaper – no nuance.  Everything is black and white.  A nuanced Dry January would allow drinking of dry wines and dry martinis. Hey, you pick your definition of dry, and I’ll pick mine.

Maybe it has something to do with the month. It seems that as soon as January 1 arrives, there’s an instinctual pull that somehow makes you create resolutions for the new year. Most resolutions want you to give up stuff that you really, really like—beer, cheese, dessert, binge-watching chapters of Commando Cody, Sky Marshall of the Universe—because some unidentified source has convinced us that these things and others are spawns of the devil.  The truth of the matter is that New Year's resolutions are things that go in one year and out the other. Case in point, last year I resolved to workout at the gym 4 days a week.  It didn’t happen, so this year I resolved to drive past the gym 3 days a week.

Dry January began in 2011 in the United Kingdom when Emily Robinson ditched alcohol while training for a half-marathon, and people were intrigued by the act. So, she did it again the next year and talked about it even more. Then, in 2013, she - along with Alcohol Concern, the company she worked for—held their first Dry January campaign. The next year they trademarked the term (who knew you could trademark a month?), and that’s when it officially became a thing.  Now that same group is also promoting Sober October. It seems that these dry months are the analog to binge drinking—binge sobering.

The dry movement pulled out all stops this year as they promoted recent studies that claimed alcohol consumption could lead to cancer.  It was on every major news outlet, from TV and radio stations to the national press to semaphore systems and heliographs. The World Health Organization then piled on by  announcing that “no amount of alcohol consumption is safe for your health” While the truth to that jaw-dropper is contested by many in the scientific community, the propaganda value is immense. It seems that leaders of the Dry January phenomenon are trying to parlay it into a Dry Year movement.  Don’t worry, Prohibition isn’t on the way back (yet). No reasonable person could really expect us to live on just food and water. 

More than any other group, Gen Zers are embracing the dry platform.  It seems they have come to the conclusion that the choice is between abstinence or binge drinking, with no reasonable middle ground. It’s simply one extreme or the other. They don’t realize there is an area between those options, a dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition. It’s the twilight drinking zone.

Almost every day for the past couple of months the Beer Nexus mailbox has received numerous press releases and emails extolling the virtues of abstaining from alcohol for January. They uniformly say that doing so will bring better sleep, clearer skin, weight loss, and more energy. This pantheon of enviable benefits sounds eerily like an ad for one of the best-selling do-it-all remedies in American history, “Goff's Magic Oil Liniment”.  It purported to effectively treat: “sleeplessness, coughs, colds, skin issues, lack of energy, and being overweight".  Even more, it echoed other, more extreme Dry January claims, that it could help with “rheumatism, neuralgia, toothache, earache, sprains, bruises, sore throat, catarrh, diarrhea, dysentery, frosted feet, corns, chapped hands, fresh cuts, old sores, and pimples.”  Goff's however did go one step further  adding their liniment would also “do the same for horses”. 

Interestingly the people sending these messages also seem to be selling something, like non-alcoholic wines, NA beers, or books of mocktail recipes. Even though I haven’t gone dry, I do believe Dry January this year gave me more energy and strength based on how quickly I hit delete when these emails showed up.

Most medical experts seem to agree that if you drink a lot, say several gallons of Triple IPA a day, the more you may benefit from Dry January. However, they also say that if someone usually drinks a “moderate” amount, Dry January has no lasting benefit. Its effect is short lived, like irreplaceable batteries in tech products (which begs the question what do batteries run on?) or the fashion industry constantly releasing new styles (proving there’s is a thin line between looking hip and looking homeless). 

One unintended consequence of Dry January might be the end of your local brewery thanks to a decline in sales. Add in the usual lousy January weather, the post-holiday hangover, inflation, and increased costs of doing business, and you have a recipe for many breweries to collapse.  In a way, Dry January is also a boycott of farmers, distributors, bars, beer stores, chefs and restaurant staff. Do the Dry January folks realize companies spend millions of dollars just to put up facilities to make alcoholic beverages? Do they know breweries, distilleries, and wineries employ thousands and thousands of men and women across the country? Do they appreciate that those people have families? And just because these selfish louts want to essentially ban alcohol, unemployment will run rampant. Then parents won’t be able to afford milk for their babies, little children will go to bed without dinner, pets will go unfed, people will eat breakfast cereal with a fork to save milk, kids will have to share chewing gum, and tobacco chewers will have to go without spittoons. Oh, the  humanity, Shame on you Dry January people.

As with any issue with a clear right (Wet January) and wrong (Dry January) there will somehow be people in the middle. That middle ground is called "Damp January" — cutting back on how much alcohol you drink without giving it up completely.  The concept isn’t new. Fully 82% (according to a recent Nielsen survey) of non-alcohol beer and NA wine drinkers also drink alcohol, usually on the same day.  It seems their point is you can still do Dry January along with Whiskey Wednesday Tequila Tuesday, Margarita Monday, and Suds Saturday.  Actually, there is one drink that rhymes with each day of the week….beer!  

According to a report from a no alcohol advocacy group “a quarter of Americans 21+ participated in Dry January this year. Among those 21+ who drink alcohol, a whopping 25% report they successfully completed it.”  As Winson Churchill said: "I never believe in statistics unless I've forged them myself.". Besides, without alcohol, how else could all those people run from their problems without moving?

Since the Bee Nexus editors demand total transparency, I have no choice but to acknowledge that a while ago I actually tried doing Dry January.  All I can say is that, for me, it was the hardest two days of the year.

                                            New Year Divinations

by Vince Capano

Welcome to 2025!   Like the 8.09 billion people around the world (give or take a few dozen) my single most important concern is what will happen to beer in this new year.  I could ask the renown seer Hopstradamus but he’s just recently retired to a small farm on the Sussex Downs in England to become a beekeeper and mead maker.  In a way, he’s now an alchemist of the apiary, transforming simple ingredients into a nectar of the gods. Wait, nectar of the gods sounds like he's making beer.

I could also try asking former First Lady Nancy Regan’s house astrologist Jean “the beer whisperer” Dixon, but she passed away years ago. Besides, taking astrology seriously is dangerous for your health. It has a one in twelve chance of giving you Cancer.  And please remember I’m only talking about Astrology not Astronomy.  The difference between the two practitioners is clear - about 75 IQ points.

Not to worry; we have the greatest oracle of the ages at hand – the Internet. It knows all and tells all. It’s the one place you’re sure to find the answers to anything you want to know, and a lots more you don’t. And the hub of this information highway is – Reddit. I spent hours searching the site and found multitudes of fully certified soothsayers, psychics, prognosticators, and clairvoyants who wrote of their visions of the year ahead in beer. Especially impressive were a few of their past insights. One psychic said he has the incredible ability to predict what’s inside a wrapped present. It’s a gift.  Another said she had correctly predicted the score of the last 25 Super Bowl games before they even started…….0 -0.   From these intuitive people and many more like them I culled the very best predictions and here they are.

All actually appear on Reddit. (names have been subtly changed to protect the guilty)

For 2025 I'm seeing seltzers loose (sic) ground along with hazy IPA's and fruited sours unless they are sours that need a spoon or fork.  I see yellow crispy beer production going up so long as it's neutral as in no flavor   I see higher ABV beers and the remaining styles move at the same rate in either direction.   Mortimer Fortescue

Clear as mud but Mr. Fortescue’s point is still well taken, whatever it is.

I saw a brewery do crazy seltzers at a beer expo. Jolly rancher fizz, and other crazy stuff like that. The line was long for those guys. That line tells me that stuff will be big in this new year. I think they were just using slushy mix for flavor, but it will still be a fad especially with kid drinkers in the new year. Algernon Biggleswade

Mr. Biggleswade must have an economic background since lag time for goods and services is a classic economic indicator of future events. With tools like that economists have correctly forecast nine out of the last five recessions.

Athletic beer will continue to be the fastest growing brewery for a little while since they bought the Ballast Point facility. However they won’t start to produce out of there for at least 9 more months. During that time people will look for beer with alcohol instead of beer without it. I see beer at 3% taking away most of the no alcohol beer sales. Dorothea Fizzdockle

Dorothea's got something there. She correctly recognizes that people who move from non-alcoholic beer to real beer (even 3%) have discovered what their favorite part of beer actually is.

I see west coast IPA coming back though it will be almost a hazy East Coast. West will be East. And since statistics say the sweet spot is being able to get buzzed off $20 in about 90 minutes at a bar almost every draft craft beer in 2025 will be at least 8% in alcohol.   Ambrose Woolfinger

Most of today's West Coast IPAs already are just hazies with a wrong label. As for Mr. Woolfinger's 8% prediction , well, it's the stuff dreams are made of. 

I’ve saved the very best, most thought out, sure to happen forecasts for now  - mine

Despite every statistic saying craft beer is losing ground, I’m optimistic about its future.  Look, I’m not the kind of optimist who brings a book to read for an eye dilation test.  I’m a bit on the more practical side.  When some see a half-filled glass as being half empty and others see it as half full, all I want to know is what kind of beer is in it.  Maybe that will help put into perspective what I foresee as happening to beer in 2025. 

To cash in on the soaring popularity of NA (no-alcohol) beers, a string of NB Breweries will spring up across the country.  The NB (no-beer) tap rooms will mimic those of real breweries in that they will offer entertainment, trivia contests, board games, multiple large screen TVs and food delivery services. Only one small item will distinguish them from their counterparts - no liquids of any kind will be served. The concept will be applauded by The New Anti- Saloon League, the Women’s Christian Temperance Union 2.0, and the Carry Nation International Public Interest Center. Not one reader of Beer Nexus will join any of them.

Hazy is now the default style of craft beer. The variety of hazies (New England IPAs) is astounding. You’ll find some hopped with Citra, Mosaic, and Galaxy and others hopped with Galaxy, Citra, and Mosaic.  And, with a litter effort, you might even find some hopped with Mosaic, Galaxy, and Citra!  Not unlike the hop wars years ago when each brewery tried to bring out a beer with a higher IBU (International Bittering Units) , I predict breweries will seek to make their IPAs more hazy than their competitors. The battle will culminate when a small brewery in Iowa makes a hazy more opaque than Guinness. One unintended consequence of this will be that haziness will creep into other styles such as Hazy Amber. Hazy Pilsner, Hazy Kolsch, and Hazy Witbeir.  These reimagined beers will sweep the nation but will sadly lead to the eventual closure of many breweries when a fickle public turns away from them to barrel aged Imperial Latte Gose beers.

For the 27th consecutive year brewers, beer commentators, and industry insiders will say that craft lagers will become more popular than IPAs. For the 27th consecutive year they will be wrong. Breweries who jump on the lager bandwagon will file for chapter 11 by spring.  Those who paired their lager belief with an unrepentant faith in the comeback of pumpkin beers will be forcefully shut down by avenging craft beer vigilantes. One very well-known former brewery owner will get a Starbucks franchise but that too will fail when he loses a massive lawsuit for calling a customer a psycho.  It seems the guy came in and just sat there drinking coffee with no smartphone, tablet or laptop.  

You can rely on the accuracy of my predictions,  In the past I've made a small fortune betting on them. Of course I started with a big fortune.  As for Reddit, well, as a kid watching the Wizard of Oz I wondered how someone could talk without a brain. Then I started reading Reddit and understood

Happy beer drinking to all in 2025!

The Elves

by Vince Capano

Do you remember “Clausthaler,”?  If so, you have my sympathy.  It was launched by German brewery Binding-Braueri in 1979, as the first widely available “NA beer”. That's “NA” as in non- ambrosial, nauseating aqua, and, worst of all, no-alcohol  For many of us NA beers fit neatly in the pantheon of flawed, incomprehensible brews like Wellworks’ Spaghetti Gose, Twisted Pine's Ghost Face Killah, Wynkoop’s Rocky Mountain Oyster Stout, and Stanks' Pickle Libeeertto (as opposed to the more sophisticated  Cornichon version)  I’d describe all those in great detail to you but  I’m currently out of regurgitation bags.

Actually, Clausthaier can still be found on US shelves, but now it’s not alone. It’s reign atop the NA beer world is long gone. These days, the low/no-alcohol beer market is topped by several multi-national mega breweries, with hundreds of smaller craft beverage producers adding flourish and options in a booming market that shows little sign of slowing. Yes, the world has gone crazy which is at least good for the squirrel population. The nuts are getting easier to find.

At least the drinkers of NA beer have history on their side. Even before Clausthaier there was “Near Beer,” in the US market. It was a style resembling (slightly) beer. It was introduced during Prohibition, a time that made you want to cry into your beer and denied you the beer to cry into.  It was an effort to skirt the rules for what wasn’t worth the effort. Today’s non-alcoholic beer has little in common with Near Beer, except that the new social sobriety movement is, in reality, the the old Prohibition. The singular problem with these Neo-Prohibitionists is that they’re more than a few drinks behind. Heck, when they wake up in the morning that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.

The strange fact is that nonalcoholic beer sales grew 32% last year and that pace increased in the first three quarters of 2024.  Leading the surge is Athletic Brewing which represents 26% of the domestic nonalcoholic beer market, making it the top nonalcoholic beer brand in the country.  They started out using street tactics such as small group tastings for on-premise wait staff and a strategical approach to building a distribution network (payoffs remain a rumor). It then blanketed corporate buyers at leading chain stores with determined sales calls (here too, payoffs remain a rumor). And for the record, I hate to spread rumors but what else can you do with them?

Athletic’s current move is to get their kegs into bars. To enhance that effort, they have started iin-person promotions. Yes, those proud bastions of alcohol, local bars, are being asked to put this NA stuff on tap. That’s as hard to believe as the latest scientific research that says If you hold in your farts long enough, the gas can be re-absorbed and come out of your mouth. Keep your mouthwash on hand when you try that one.

Yesterday, the day after Thanksgiving, was to me the start of the Christmas season. So, to start the holidays off right, I stopped in at the famed Moderation Bar (the place I go when people tell me to start drinking in moderation). I had barely sat down when a trio of individuals burst through the door costumed as what I guess were Santa’s elves. They had on green shirts with red suspenders, and each wore a large triangular hat with “Athletic Beer” boldly printed across the front. Sticking out from their hats were noticeably pointy ears obviously created from a Lenoard Nimoy Do It Yourself Make-Up Kit. Their cheeks were rosy (likely due to more than a few shots of something decidedly not non-alcoholic). Each elf carried several packages wrapped in bright white ribbons with the Athletic logo – you guessed it, a large red letter “A” It was all a bit silly at 6 PM but by last call I’m sure most of the patrons would swear the logo stood for Artic, proving these elves were the real deal straight from the North Pole.

The elves began an animated discussion with the bartender which gave me a chance to peek into their packages. Each box was filled with shirts, hats, and glasses. All were top of the line, high quality stuff. The shirts had collars and were made of the finest material, no cheap thin cotton here. The glasses were nucleated Teku stemmed beauties. The hats were clearly quality with buckles on the back instead of cheap plastic strips. Wondering if they were made in Santa’s workshop. I found the information on the bottom of the box: ”φτιαγμένο στην Ιαπωνία από ελληνικά ξωτικά”  I instantly knew what that meant. It meant they didn’t want me to know. 

The head elf promptly handed the bartender a credit card and asked that three dozen glasses of Athletic (pretend) “IPA” be placed at the end of the bar directly in front of me. “Thanks for giving us some space” the shortest Elf said as he handed me a glass. He then grabbled several more in each hand and joined his partners as they circled the bar chanting “Athletic beer - free shirts, free hats; get’em here!”. Look, free of just about anything is a good deal, but in this case, there was a catch. A big catch.

The catch blindsided me when I politely asked one elf for the promised shirt and hat. “It’s all yours, but you only get them when you order and drink another Athletic IPA.” Was he kidding?  Did he mean I actually had to pay for one of his tepid, beer-flavored water while the Moderation had on taps of Serra Nevada’s Celebration, Hinkley’s Patrick Henry Ale, Kane’s Night to End all Dawns, and Founder’s CBS? This was taking a simple promotion too far.

Sensing that an erudite dissertation proving their chant of free stuff was an enforceable verbal contract would be futile, I instantly went to plan B.  Hoping none of the elves wouldn’t notice my crossed fingers or have a portable polygraph, I told the smallest elf that my first Athletic IPA was just so good that I wanted only one to make the memory of this evening a singular treasure. Ok, not good, but I figured a guy wearing fake ears and a silly hat might just go for it. Wrong. 

I looked around the bar for support and saw many of my brethren craft beer lovers blithely putting on hats and holding up shirts.  What? How could they give in so quickly? It was then that I realized this moment was about more than just trying to scam a few free goodies. Could it be that my earlier choice of Patrick Henry ale was more than just a coincidence? After all, was it not this revered patriot who intoned, “I care not what others may do but as for me give me liberty (hops) or give me death”? Didn’t he place honor and great tasting alcoholic ale above all else?  Didn’t he back up his fiery words with heroic action?

I slowly began to recognize that this was one of those unexpected moments in life when from out of nowhere, a blazing cosmic ray of truth was being set upon me. It is how we react to those moments that forever seal our fate. One crowd simply smiles, straightens up, and gladly reaches for another Athletic, while others reach deep in the well of enlightened integrity and take the path of righteousness, becoming champions of justice.  

“Last chance, Buddy” bellowed one Elf. I cleared my throat. Loudly. Several times. Now the attention of the entire bar was focused directly on me.  Slowly, majestically, I stood up.  Holding my empty glass high, I turned toward to the bartender and simply but firmly said, “another Patrick Henry, Ale please.” 

A frozen silence gripped the entire bar. Then it started.  A dark shadow sliced through the dim light toward the Elves. Suddenly a blizzard of hats and shirts filled the air.  Pleas for glasses of real beer, beer with alcohol, resounded. The conscience of a people had been stirred!

The Elves scrambled behind a nearby pillar that was fortunately located on a direct route to the exit.  Salvaging some honor they shouted, “got to go to our next stop, Merry Christmas!” as they disappeared through the pub doors into the engulfing darkness.  Those at the bar sat silent and satisfied amid the ruin of spent hats and torn shirts.  Real beer had prevailed. It would be a good Christmas after all.

 I again stood up, glass held high, and toasted: “God bless us everyone, even the NA elves.”

Woebegone Craft Beer

by Vince Capano

Fifteen-yard penalty for piing on. Throw another flag for unnecessary roughness. That’s what seems to be going on in each day’s news from the beer world.  Sales are down, breweries are closing, craft is on life support, and the no-alcohol beer crowd is crowing about their incredible growth. It’s as if every craft brewery was built on an ancient Indian burial ground.

Right now, the beer business, especially craft, is too weak to whip a gnat.  Well, I for one am sick and tired of hearing how the industry is sick and tired.  And to all those economic experts saying that craft beer is in mortal decline let me tell them if they can’t be kind, at least be vague.

The sad fact is that many small breweries are in survival mode. That’s a far cry from a short time ago when these very same places were planning expansion and investment in a rosy future. Now, many a tottering brewery finds their cash reserves are lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut and that American Express has sent a hit man out after them.  Maybe they can learn a lesson from the time I had my credit card stolen.  I didn’t report it since the thief was spending less than me.

For those hurting breweries it’s a question of just hanging on hoping some unspecified scenario will somehow appear to cause things to improve. To determine just what that scenario would be I consulted a Ouija board.  What kind of answer is” hahaha”?

The problems facing small brewers can be simplified to a troublesome conundrum: costs of production are soaring, so brewers need to either raise their prices or sell a lot more beer to remain profitable. but demand declines as prices rise. They must compete for limited taps in the bar and space in stores, both of which buy on price. Those places buy on price because their customers are themselves facing a cost-of-living crisis and therefore also buy on price. Then, the breweries turn inward and raise prices in their own tasting/tap rooms. That causes people to stay home and drink lower-cost options, a strategy akin to cemeteries that raise their prices then blame the cost of living. To quote Joseph Heller, “That's some catch, that Catch-22. It's the best there is.” 

One unfortunate by-product of all this seems to be that the sheer energy, fun, and joy that once characterized craft beer is no longer the spirit that defines it. Of course, you can still have great fun at tap rooms, pubs, and festivals (if you don’t look at the prices), but somehow, it all seems a bit jaded. The naïve sense of adventure we all had at the beginning of the craft movement seems to have disappeared. Now,, I’m personally not embarrassed to be called naïve except for the time I paid $7 for a bottle of Evian water and then noticed what it spelled backwards.

As the quality of many craft beers has become mediocre (often the same insipid tasting juice bombs that give New England a bad name), service has declined even more so.  Now, to get even minimally acceptable service you’d best choose a table nearest to a waiter or a stool closest to the bartender.  Sadly, more than a few pubs' wait staff are so lazy if they won an award for laziness, they’d send someone to pick it up for them.  Alright, that might be a bit harsh; I shouldn’t get angry at lazy people, after all they didn’t do anything.

Some analysts say all this is just a sign that the craft industry has matured. I’m not buying it; that’s like saying you can live to be a hundred if you give up all things that make you want to live to be a hundred.

Maybe one part of the problem is that there seems to be a new generation in craft beer– drinkers, brewery owners and workers– who don’t remember what it was like before the craft revolution happened They have no idea who Fritz Maytag, Jim Koch, or Jack MacAuliffe are except that they might be the real names of the Three Stooges.  Even if they knew craft history, most probably couldn’t care less. These folks should consider entering politics. It’s one of the few fields where stupidity is not a handicap.

Younger, new to craft, drinkers seem to reflexively dismiss anything that came before their time. I guarantee there are many of them who not only think that all IPAs are hazy, they also believe that haziness is a requirement for the style. They simply deny the existence of those clear IPAs we were all drinking until a dozen or so years ago. People like that who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do.

For decades, most people, excluding very serious beer fans, couldn’t tell you what beer was made of, what hops were used, and the difference between ale and lager. Industry bigwigs and sales gurus believed no consumer wanted beer to have flavor or character. A common phrase of the marketing folks was that when it came to beer, people “drank the advertising.” Beer was seen just as lubricant for a big night out or for youthful hijinks. Its main role was to tell you that you could actually dance and to help you gain weight.

Then a grass roots movement began.  People were becoming more interested in flavorful beer, more curious about where it came from and who made it. That ignited an explosion of small breweries. with a culture of openness, idealism and joyful optimism.  While mainstream beer had become something you bought on price, by the 24 pack, within a few years, beer, that’s craft beer, became cool. It was new and different and exciting. More so, craft beer often laughed at ABVs under 5 %. With the more potent craft beers if it took you 5 minutes to walk to the pub it would take you 25 to walk back. The difference is staggering.

The original spirit of craft is alive today in many people.  I especially see it in homebrewers.  If you want to quickly reenergize your love of craft beer try making some yourself.  No fancy equipment needed.  An inexpensive basic extract kit is all you need.  However, beware the old adage” give a man a beer, he'll waste an hour, but teach him to brew, he'll waste a lifetime". And if you’re concerned that becoming a home brewer will get you drinking all day then just do it at night.

Take heart, the magic of craft can return to even the most jaded and cynical of drinkers if they remember that craft beer is about style diversity.  Embrace it and feel revived. The point is you’re allowed to like more than one thing, even an American light lager.  A little seen style like a dark Mild doesn’t have to be either the coolest thing going or utterly irrelevant to be part of the revitalization process. Experiment with your taste buds. Try something you might have dismissed before. Enjoy beer on its own terms. 

Do that and it won’t be long before you’ll proudly be wearing a t-shirt that says, “I know what a Grisette is!”. 

pumpkin putridity

by Vince Capano

Ask any real beer aficionado about pumpkin beers and the reactions you’ll likely get will be a shrug, head shake, frown, or painful, though not life threatening, stomach convolutions.  Put me in that latter group.  So, you can imagine my discomfort when, on a trip to my local beer store today, there they were, out in intimidating force – brand after brand of pumpkin beers. The only saving grace was they were mostly stacked in cases four feet high on the aisles and along the back wall.  Clearly some insightful store employees didn’t want to dignify them with space in the cooler. Then again, maybe they realized that no matter how badly the beer was handled it couldn’t get any worse.

Sadly, I’m guessing that a number of Beer Nexus readers actually do like pumpkin spice beers and are as enthusiastic about the style as non-swimmers in the Navy are about defending their ship  It logically follows those folk also think creamed cheese powder, whole fruit pies, onion burgers, and oaked smoked sriracha sauce belong in beer too; after all, those make as much sense as cloves and allspice do,  If you’re one of those people you might want to stop reading here since your taste buds have some serious developmental issues. As when your third-grade homeroom teacher had personal issues with you for eating all the paste because you said it tasted so good. 

Now before I get carried away, I should admit – don’t make this public knowledge - I don’t hate all pumpkin beers, there are a couple out there that don’t quite taste like you’re drinking agricultural runoff water. A tip of my glass goes to Alewerks Bourbon Barrel Imperial Pumpkin, Schlafly Pumpkin, and most any other over 10% ABV.  Double digit alcohol levels can hide most any bad flavor or flaw.  Of course, there are better things in life than alcohol, but alcohol compensates for not getting them. Indeed, the light music of a high ABV beverage falling into a glass makes for a most agreeable and melodious interlude.

The average pumpkin beer -does that mean it's equally as terrible as all the others - is full of medicine, perfume, and antiseptic flavors under a blanket of clove. Indeed, many have so much clove that it has been known to make your mouth numb.  In a pinch, it can serve as an effective substitute for Novocain. That average pumpkin beer is as appealing to drink as a bottle of Grandma’s perfume flavored homebrew aged in rusted tin barrels of Bartles & Jaymes Wine Cooler.

It's a sad fact that when you see a beer label touting “pumpkin spice” the ingredients are usually cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and allspice. The only thing the brewer forgot was the pumpkin. 

I generally order a single glass of pumpkin beer a year, most always one I’ve never tried before just to see if things have changed or if my palate has been corrupted by that Carolina Reaper Milkshake Sour ale I had last New Year’s Eve. I really do try to drink pumpkin beer as dispassionately as possible in a naïve attempt to find even the vaguest hint of flavor beneath the dominating flood of spice and cloves. It’s always proven a vain but glorious attempt.

 Over the years I’ve noticed that as most pumpkin beers warm, the ginger, cinnamon and allspice notes get augmented with powerful vegetal flavors.  What a treat. However, the better pumpkin beers (it’s a low bar) actually do give the impression that they just  might have a subtle touch of actual fake pumpkin. Brewers who can do that are magicians. In fact, I actually saw one such magical brewer leave the brewery, walk down the street, and poof – he turned into a bar.  And he didn’t order a pumpkin beer.

Most beer historians, those folks who answer questions nobody really asked, say the first modern pumpkin beer, ingeniously called Pumpkin Ale, was from Buffalo Bill’s brewpub in Hayward, California.  Buffalo Bill’s was also the first brewpub in America, opening in 1983, a day that will live in pumpkin infamy.  To be even handed, I must report that another California brewpub, Triple Rock, claims they are “the oldest U.S. brewpub still owned and operated by its original owners, or with its original equipment.”  Using that quantifying kind of logic, I’m the best looking, smartest, youngest (and oldest) beer writer wearing one green sock and one brown sock with two holes in each.  All things considered, it’s clear that in any dispute between these two brewpubs the deciding factor has to be that one makes pumpkin beer and the other doesn’t. Sorry, pumpkin trumps fact; Buffalo Bill, you lose. 

The story of that first commercial pumpkin beer from Buffalo Bill’s set the standard and tone for all to come. It can be traced to owner Bill Owens, who  having read that George Washington brewed a pumpkin beer (later found out to be a British propaganda ploy to sway colonial beer drinkers to their side), felt inspired to recreate the ale. When he tasted his nearly finished product, he discovered the fermentation had stripped out the pumpkin flavor (it has flavor?) he'd envisioned. However, rather than develop a new recipe, he applied a more direct solution. Unflinchingly, Bill sprinted to the local grocery for can of pumpkin pie spices. He then simply added it to the ale before bottling.  The rest, as they say, is depressing history. 

In the early years of craft brewing one of my favorite stops was Weyerbacher’s brewpub in Easton PA.  They made one of my all-time favorite beers, Hops Infusion, featuring seven hops blended into a true IPA (no geographical designation needed). That single beer made the hour drive well worth it. Then it happened. Beer newspapers’ (how you got news before the Internet) headlines screamed “Weyerbacher files for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy”. Owner and founder Dan Weyerbacher lamented to the press “our downfall was pumpkin beer.”  Yes, pumpkin beer. He had gone into debt to expand ($2 million worth) ostensibly  to make more pumpkin beer. “We were expecting to see double-digit growth for a number of years ahead in that style … and then we faced market saturation that happened in pumpkin and all of those other things, that just didn’t pan out,”  

Weyerbacher had been in operation for twenty-four  years. 

A philosopher might say this sad tale illustrates the difference between a bankrupt brewery owner and a pigeon - a pigeon can still make a deposit on a Mercedes.  Eventually a restructured Weyerbacher returned on a much smaller scale, but Hops Infusion was gone forever. Another innocent casualty of the curse of pumpkin beer.

George Carlin once said, “Outside every silver lining, there’s a dark cloud.” Clearly, he was talking about beer and its pumpkin subset.  But there is some good news out there– this year there are less pumpkin beers on the market than last year thanks to declining demand.  In fact, at one recent pumpkin beer sales meeting the marketing manager addressed the sales team by saying “We are going to have a sales contest this month. Those who sell the most pumpkin beer will get to enter next month’s contest.”

Pumpkin beer is the pistachio marshmallow pumpkin-spiced latte of the beverage world.  Granted it's a symbol of the fall season but nonetheless it's  more terrifying than any skeleton, ghost, zombie, or howling banshee Halloween decoration you'll ever see.

Ultra 

by Vince Capano

It was a struggle.  The words weren’t easy to say.  One deep breath and with a supreme effort It came out – “I’ll have a bottle of the Michelob Ultra”, Then, in a stage whisper that could be heard into the far reaches of the bar’s parking lot I added, “it’s been a long, hot day and Ultra goes down like refreshing cold water……besides, it  is now the second best selling beer in America”. That meager defense of the 95 calorie, 4.2% ABV sales juggernaut, did little to stop the stares and mumbled condemnations from everyone within 30 feet of me, each person, now more than ever, tightly gripping their $10 pints of craft beer in the hope they wouldn’t get contaminated. Correction, they weren’t pints. They were “full pours” which was almost, but not quite, double the size of the “half pour”, which was a small bit more than double the size of the “taster” pour. 

In case you haven’t noticed, “full pour” has become the common way to keep the brewer/bar owners out of jail for claiming their 12 -14 ounce glasses are pints. 

Those “pour” measurements are all as straight forward as the meaning of a “barrel” which changes depending on what’s in it. When you're talking about oil, a barrel is exactly 42 gallons. For beer, a barrel is 31.5 gallons. For dry goods, it's 105 dry quarts.  Even things like a pinch, a smidgen, a pat of butter, or a jiffy have more meaning than a brewery's  “full pour “. There's no room for debate in those measurements: a pinch= half a dash, or 1/16 of a teaspoon, smidgen= a half of a pinch, or 1/32 of a teaspoon, a pat of butter is 1/3 of an ounce or 1 tablespoon, and a jiffy is a unit of time used in computer engineering. It's 10 milliseconds.

So it’s kudos to Ultra for unequivocally saying on the on the front label that their bottle holds “12 fluid ounces”, which also clearly distinguishes it from those European imports’ 11.2 ounce bottles with that number deftly hidden on the back. One unpleasant feature of 11.2s is that you can actually get your finger stuck in the bottle’s smaller opening.  It happened to me once in a Blue Moon. 

It’s clear that many craft drinkers see Ultra and other light / lighter than light lagers as all that is unholy and heinous in the universe. But many of the most common arguments against it – it’s easily made, flavorless, lacking complexity – don’t always hold beer, ah, water. By removing the stigma associated with this style, it’s possible to better appreciate the wide range of other styles available today. That in turn will empower people to select the beers that best suit their drinking needs. In other words, even a craft drinker will somewhere, somehow, inevitably come face to face with the right time for Miller Lite Time.

Craft beer is as much about having options as it is about being able to enjoy a beer thicker than the nectar of tar pitch.  Yes, there really are times when light lagers are better suited for specific drinking occasions.  Even the saintly folks at the BJCP (Beer Judge Certification Program) recognize this. Their Style Guide, aka the Craft Beer Bible, lists “American Light Lager” in the “Standard American Beer” Category, as “beers that have “smooth, accessible flavors.”  Ah, smooth and accessible, like putting cocoa butter all over your face, belly arms and legs then taking a long ride down a rain-soaked Slip & Slide.

Light lagers are the one style considered quintessentially American, for better or worse, having originally gained mainstream popularity in the early 1970s with the introduction of Miller Lite. Over time it became the ballpark beer, the racetrack beer, the pregame beer, the using the lawnmower beer, the hangover beer, the I’ve got to lose weight because of all that beer I drink beer, and so on. It’s the one you cook hot dogs in and enjoy on your breakfast cereal (sorry Guinness) . 

It’s the 30- pack symbol of youthful indulgences. 

Sophisticated craft drinkers often savor and appreciate the aroma of their beer. Well, American light lagers have aromas too, just a bit thinner and feathery.  According to a random sampling of reviews posted on Beer Advocate, Michelob Ultra has aromas of “sweet and light hops”, “savory apples", “straw”, “preserved cornflakes”, and “lemon cleanser".  Hey, who doesn’t like to sniff a can of Pledge every now and then?

According to the BJCP, a “light amount of yeast character (particularly a light apple fruitiness) is not a fault",  Even more, light dimethyl sulfide (DMS) is not considered a fault either. The bottom line is that beers like Ultra are always super-clean, while some of its more celebrated counterparts are sometimes like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos.

American light lagers use the same ingredients as some of the world’s greatest beers. Most use two or six-row barley, a standard yeast, and light bittering hop additions.  And light lagers give you a bonus too ‒ up to 40 percent of the mix is rice or corn. Sometimes additional enzymes are introduced to further lighten the body and lower the carbs. That’s all, so in a way craft beers and American light lagers are almost brothers; it’s just that one has better genes.

When you think of American light lager, it’s best to understand that its essence is less is more: The best ones are those that don’t leave too much of an impression. Once again, the the BJCP cuts to the essential point, saying it’s “highly carbonated, very light-bodied, nearly flavorless lager designed to be consumed very cold. Very refreshing and thirst-quenching.”. Think thirst quenching, like lime infused ice cubes or a very good vodka straight from the freezer. Indeed, the most highly regarded vodkas are those that are the most flavorless. Interestingly, vodka, unlike beer, is also the basis of several effective weight loss programs.  I once went on the well-known Russian Vodka Diet for two seeks and wound up losing 14 days. 

Brews like Ultra may not show the depths of flavor that beer is capable of but it has assuredly led more people to the craft world than it has turned off.  Think back to your first sip of beer (likely an American macro lager) as an inquiring lad – it was so bitter you wondered how anyone could drink that stuff. Then, as you began to drink it regularly, it paved the way for your appreciation of all the wonders of craft beer. It brought so much to the table that drinkers should get a bigger table for it in gratitude.

Michelob Ultra clearly is not a beer crafted to be savored or to be admired for its depth of flavor. However, it is a  hydrating, refreshing beverage, light in body and on the body of the drinker. It is even handed it out to runners after marathons. Can you imagine that after running 26.2 miles, anyone would be willing to trade their bottle of Ultra for a Bourbon County Stout?  

One little appreciated fact about this style is it's difficult to brew well. The neutral characteristics of a light lager doesn't allow for any technical flaws. The processes required to ensure such a clean and clear brew, such as multi-step decoction mashing, filtering and month-long lagering, as well as rigorous quality control, make it one of the most time-consuming styles to produce. And since it's flavor is so clean and light, any brewing flaw is magnified – making it much harder to get away with imperfections. That of course explains why my last homebrewed lager was undrinkable. Then again, the same could about my home brewed ale.

As I see it, the final level of enlightenment for a true beer connoisseur is knowing when it’s a fitting time to drink an American light lager, no shame attached. And if some beer elitist  begins to criticize you just say “remember when I asked for your opinion?  Neither do I." 

 And if the bozo persists finish him off with "since ignorance isn’t a crime, you’re free to go.”

Not Crazy Over Hazy

by Vince Capano

If you’re a fan of real IPAs, as in anything NOT a juice bomb, you can’t be a happy camper nowadays. The vast horde of New England IPAs out there have no bitterness but still make me bitter.  As NEIPAs continue their proliferation it seems they’re on a sacred quest to reach new heights (or is it depths) of haziness and juiciness.  Brewers are continuing to dial up a soft mouthfeel with a sensory overload of fruit flavors in the hope their beer will stand out from the crowd. In other words, they’re striving to be slightly less mediocre than the thousands of others making the same tedious beer.

Each brewery’s NEIPA is unique……. just like everyone else’s.

You might think that one way to insure you have a traditionally bitter IPA is to check how many international bitterness units (IBUs) it has. After all, the IBU count is the recognized measurement of bitterness in beer.  Unfortunately, the number of IBUs doesn’t tell the whole story when it comes to actual bitterness. The pH of the beer and the “perceived bitterness” have a lot to do with how a beer tastes. So, just because a beer has high IBU number doesn’t mean it actually tastes bitter.  Think of those beers as an Expresso loaded with sugar, - expensive but not bitter.

Perceived bitterness can be affected by a beer’s alcohol content, malt profile and residual sugars/attenuation. This is why an imperial stout with 85 IBUs doesn’t taste bitter at all, because the sweetness of the beer brings it into balance. To put it another way, those IBU numbers you see on a can, at best, are misleading. Let’s just say the numbers don’t lie but they’re often creatively interpreted by marketing savvy brewers..

The IBU measurement for most beers today is generally between one and 100. The lower the IBU, the less "hoppy" or bitter the IPA will be.  Anything over 45 IBUs is more on the bitter end. Note that there is a difference between hoppy and bitter.  A hoppy beer means you can taste the flavors of the hops used; it doesn’t have much to do with its bitterness.  It's the brewing process and the ingredients used that determine a beer's IBUs.  Of course, some people would say a beer with one IBU is too much since to them any level of bitterness would feel like their tongue is asking for a divorce.  That might apply to one of my favorite beer names - Buffalo Bill's Brewery’s  “Alimony Ale – The Bitterest Brew In America”.  It really isn’t that bitter; maybe the divorce was amicable.

As for beers that, at least in name, set appropriate standards of bitterness there’s Tyranena Brewing (WI) Bitter Woman,  Mikkeller (NY) 1000 IBU – note: your palate really doesn’t register anything over 100 (what a waste of 900 IBUs), Lagunitas (CA) Hop Stoopid, and Dogfish Head (DE) Hoo Laud w/Alpha Beast Hops.  Drink a few of that group and you could say they were palate wreckers. Just like Green Flash's (CA) Palate Wrecker with “six pounds of hops per barrel”. That’s enough to stun even the most ardent hop heads and totally stupefy NEIPA  fans.  If life is a bowl of soup, hops, to hazy fans, is a fork.

As wrestling legend Andre the Giant -7’4”, 525 pounds- said “No man can knock me out. I've been hitting my head with steel chairs in the WWE. I've never been knocked out in my life. And no beer can do it either, except for those bitter ones,” Andre holds the world record for the largest number of beers consumed in a single sitting. He knocked back 119 twelve-ounce bottles during a six-hour period. I can only imagine how big the tip was for that bill.  And don’t worry, after that he didn’t drive.  He didn’t even putt. 

How should a New England/hazy IPA taste? The people who know, namely the ones who dictate what you should like, are the folks from the Beer Judge Certification Program (BJCP) and the Brewers Association (BA). Their guidelines cover homebrew and international commercial beer competitions including big ones such as the Great American Beer Festival (GABF) and World Beer Cup (WBC). Yes, even the beer world is beset by acronyms.  Frankly, IDGAF.

The BJCP says NEIPAs should have 25-60 IBUs and a “low to medium-high perceived bitterness, often masked by the fuller body and soft, off-dry to medium finish.” Guidelines from the BA allow for 20-50 IBUs, but with the caveat that IBUs “may differ significantly from perceived bitterness.” Their guideline says, “the impression of bitterness is soft and well-integrated into overall balance and may differ significantly from measured or calculated IBU levels.”  If you’re confused, then I’m there with you.  And, somewhat immodestly, let me say I’m not easily confused; after all, I’m the top guy in putting together jigsaw puzzles here in the Beer Nexus office.  I just put a puzzle together in one single day despite the fact that the box said 2 to 4 years.

Interestingly, as far as my research showed, no brewery in New England has ever won gold for its own style in either GABF or WBC.   Maybe that’s because the climate there doesn’t support growing fresh hops since the four seasons in New England are almost winter, winter, still winter, and 3 months of bad skiing.

Brewers tell us that to enhance the NEIPA’s  lack of bite we must keep them cold from packaging to consumption and drink them fresh because their delicate character disappears after a few weeks. That of course clearly (?) explains why so many brands of NEIPA are found not in coolers but on store shelves and floors.  Adding more insult, many of the cans that proclaim on their label “Drink Fresh” don’t have a canned-on date.  And the ones that do are often unreadable (I have no idea if the brewers pays extra for that). That makes as much sense as Whole Foods selling sliced apples, an unbiased opinion, enduring a hard day’s night, or being in a small crowd.

Many know the story that IPAs were originally “overly” hopped as a preservative since the beer was being shipped to British troops not only in India but in far flung outposts around the world You can be assured that the typical British soldiers drinking IPA in Calcutta in the 1860s would have spat out any of today’s NEIPAs.  Of course, the modern NEIPA devotee steadfastly believes that if the beer isn’t cloudy or juicy it’s simply not an IPA.  My guess is the division over IPAs is not unlike the upcoming Presidential election.  When the results are in 100% of Americans will think 50% of Americans have lost their minds.

As for the term IPA itself, the BJCP says: “‘IPA’ is intentionally not spelled out as ‘India Pale Ale’ since these beers historically rarely (if ever) went to India, and many aren’t pale.”  So, according to their version of history, IPA isn’t actually India Pale Ale at all, but an acronym without a home, or even a term in its own right. So powerful is the BJCP influence that “IPA” is now considered a word commonly pronounced “eepa” by beer drinkers whose first language isn’t English.  I guess next up the BJCP will explain why there’s no egg in the eggplant, no ham in the hamburger and neither pine nor apple in the pineapple.

IPA, in all its machinations, is the most popular style in craft beer. Everything about it, from its origins to its color, character and appearance, is sometimes loved, sometimes hated, sometimes mythologized, sometimes misunderstood, and endlessly redefined. Beer observers, industry insiders, craft drinkers, and even beer writers seem fascinated by it thanks to the varying degrees of passion, agitation and disdain it inspires. 

IPA was never ‘invented’ as such – it has evolved over the years and continues to do so.  And that is not always a good thing.  Why couldn't  IPAs have missed evolution like the hummingbird. They have existed for thousands of years, and still haven’t learned the words.

It's Good For You 

by Vince Capano

Nearly 95 years ago the very first Guinness ad appeared which introduced the iconic slogan “Guinness is good for you!”  Advertising was a bit different then. The ad actually began with a statement that bordered on an apology: "This is the first advertisement ever issued in a national paper to advertise Guinness." Back then the use of advertising was regarded by many – including brewery owner Edward Guinness, – as an act of desperation.  At the time the Guinness brewery was nearly at the end of its rope, and they were hoping the ad would be a knot they could hold on to.  And it was. Sales shot up proving that while Guiness was good for its customers, customers were good for Guinness.

According to Guinness historians (actually drinkers with a good memory) slogans rejected were “I’ll have what the guy on the floor is drinking – a Guinness”, “Guinness, it’s the best thing that will happen to you all year”, “Reality is an illusion created by Guinness deficiency”,” and “Guinness, the only reason to have Cheerios the morning”, All winners if you ask me. Then again, I’m not a professional ad man even though I once worked for an agency.  I didn’t last long. When I complained about the long hours I was told, “If you don't come in on Saturday, don't bother showing up on Sunday.” Now that I think of it, that’s not much different than working here at Beer Nexus, though my boss will disagree.  In my last performance review he said I do nothing around here.  I wrote back that doing nothing isn’t easy, you never know when you’re done.

Over the years Guinness has come up with many a slogan like “My Goodness, My Guinness”, “Lovely Day For a Guinness”, “Have A Guinness When You’re Tired”, and “Guinness For Strength”.  I mistakenly took that one literally so once tried drinking loads of Gluiness to get stronger.  It didn’t work.  In desperation I signed up for a 12-month gym membership.  American Express called and asked if my card was stolen.

Perhaps the most accurate Guinness slogan is one that emphatically says that “good things come to those who wait” – as in the wait for its elaborate two-part pour which they say is essential for achieving the perfect head and flavor profile, not to mention the dome synonymous with a pint of this ubiquitous dry Irish Stout. Indeed, most Guinness drinkers understand and appreciate the intriguing machinations necessary to achieve the proper pour. But, in reality,  is it all show and no function? Saying it’s simply a marketing gimmick might be classified as a new conspiracy theory but that’s okay with me since all of my old ones are coming true. 

I’ve often wondered just how much skill is really needed in pulling the Guinness tap handle down. Is the aura surrounding their “perfect pour” really not much harder than sloshing syrup on pancakes?  Over the years that question had come up so often that Guinness once funded a scientific study which concluded there are actual benefits to waiting for the bubbles to settle before topping up the pint. The study was based on laboratory experiments led by Dr Tomoaki Watamura at Japan's highly regarded University of Kyoto (the anagram lover's Tokyo.)

Co-author of the study, Dr. Watamau, (a proud Wossamotta U alumni) said he believes pints of Guinness may even benefit from being topped up repeatedly, rather than just twice. because “even with considerable technique, it is difficult to control the multi-scale bubble dynamics, so it is better to repeat pouring many times,”  I'm all for that as long as there's no extra charge. However, several of Dr. Watamau’s more strident critics simply say he knows nothing; while thinking he knows everything.  If true, then the good doctor has a most promising  political career, instead of a scientific one, ahead of him

I’m convinced that part of enjoying Guinness is seeing the elaborate ritual of pulling a pint.  It significantly enhances the fun of drinking it. Making it harder to acquire something, or in this case, having to wait for the pouring process to finish, can add value to an experience. By doing that Guinness is making ubiquity the new exclusivity.  After all, it’s impossible to watch the intricate dance of frothy white micro-bubbles falling faintly, cascading into the darkness, without being engulfed in the pageant of it all.

The Guinness website advises pouring its stout into a pint glass at a 45-degree angle until it is three-quarters full; allowing the bubbles to surge or cascade for precisely 1 minute and 32.5 seconds and finally topping the pint up by pushing the tap handle forwards, which limits the power of the flow. The better the bartender the more precise the pour.  A lack of precision is dangerous when the margin of error is small. One mistake and your stout might turn into a New England IPA which is even stranger than trying to figure out why abbreviation is such a long word.

The pouring method stems from the addition of nitrogen to Guinness during the late 1950s. Interesting, they first tried a combination of sodium and hydrogen but NaH.  Hey, give me credit for trying a chemistry joke since usually they get no reaction.  Anyway, before this, bartenders would three-quarters fill a glass with relatively flat Guinness, then top it up with a more frothy stout from a high-conditioned cask.

There’s a slow-motion video on YouTube that shows that the small bubbles in Guinness rise more slowly and are more affected by currents in the pint glass than larger bubbles. That slow rising allows the bubbles to meet and coalesce to produce a compact and even head. The video looked authentic to me though rumor has it that after finishing it the creators went to CGI Friday’s for a drink.

 The pause in the pour supposedly allows the tap handle puller to assess the size of the head for the second step.  On this, the Guinness’ website quotes a dire warming from a Dr. Andrew Alexander (a fake name if I ever saw one):“If you go at it all with abandon, you’ll end up with a head that is too thick, blobby and bulging over the top. Nobody wants that.” He should have added “in a beer or on a body”. I have no doubt that it’s true since Dr. Alexander is known as someone who doesn’t make mistakes, though he does have temporary lapses in accuracy.

The two-part pour can actually affect a pint’s flavor, Dr. Alexander said.  “In drinks like champagne, it is well known that the interaction of the bubbles with the tongue will influence the experience: both flavour and how it feels”. Notice how Dr. Alexander uses the British spelling of the word “flavour”.  It clearly adds a sort of continental charm, not to mention gravitas, to his statement.  Indeed, quoting him has elevated this article with loads more colour, humour, and lustre.

Be aware that some shaky bars might try to pour your Guinness in a shaker pint glass, often with a Coors Light logo. Never accept that and do not, repeat do not, ever try that at home (and don’t go to your neighbor’s house to do it either). Always use a Guinness glass, sometimes called a Tulip pint though it lacks a flared mouth at the top end. The Irish Imperial Pint Glass (tulip) holds 20 fl oz. The American pint holds 16 ounces (though many bars slip in a 14-ounce lookalike). So, if you drank just one Guinness a day for a year in an imperial pint glass you’d have consumed 1460 more ounces than drinking from an American pint.. God bless the Irish Imperial pint!

The Irish glass also has legal metrology marks used to show that it has passed inspection by the National Standards Authority of Ireland, a state-run body which enforces a number of measurement rulings. The US pint also has metrology marks but from the Acme Compliance Review and Oversight Agency certifying the glass is only open on one end.

After your glass is filled there’s one final issue to deal with – should a shamrock be drawn on the foamy head? Some say that If the bartender does that you’re allowed to stab him in the eye with a fork.  Now you know why most places do not serve Guinness with a fork. Personal safety aside, most bartenders do not draw anything on the foam simply because they can’t do it.  Without a deft hand and gentle touch, it’s almost impossible. It takes loads of practice so anyone attempting it shouldn’t get discouraged; it is doable. Anyone aspiring to achieve this feat should trust in the famous quote from Napoleon Bonaparte: “Impossible is a word only found in the dictionary of fools.” 

Come on, when was the last time you saw Bonaparte quoted in a beer article?

One last thing.  If you really, really want to enjoy a perfect pint of Guinness order an Irish whiskey alongside it.  Napoleon would approve.  

THE REAL DEAL

by Vince Capano

Asking when the last time you drank a real (cask) ale is like asking when the last time was you sat in a car with a front bench seat, clipped roller skates on the bottom of your shoes, backed up your floppy disk, or checked the change slot in a pay phone booth.  I’ll put a big wager on the answer being “never or can’t remember” That assumes you’re not in the UK of course when real ales are fighting to the death to remain relevant in pubs thanks in large part to the efforts of CAMRA.

The Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA) is an independent voluntary consumer organization headquartered in St Albans, England, which promotes real ale in traditional British pubs.  Real ale, as opposed to fake ale, hoax ale, or sham ale, is, well, real.  Unlike my last homebrew, it’s quite tasty despite (or because of) being unfiltered, unpasteurized, and usually served from a hand pump (beer engine) or gravity fed, without the use of extraneous carbon dioxide.  But wait, there’s more - cask ale is best served at “warm” temperature - (52-57° F).   

For those of you thinking that real ale must have originated in Wuhan, China, it didn’t.  It is thoroughly British and interestingly, is rarely exported.  Indeed, history says the largest export of Great Britain is Independence days.

You are not required to be a dipsomaniac, though it would increase your credibility, to join CAMRA,  They stress responsible drinking.  To me that means not spilling anything.  It is the largest single-issue consumer group in the UK, which is impressive even if there are just three others.  Maybe two. Despite their small size they are on a mission from Ninkasi, Silenus, Bacchus, and Dionysus.  Hey, when it comes to beer you can’t have too many gods.

Contrary to general belief there are places that serve cask ales in the US though the mere presence of handpumps or firkin kegs (for gravity feed) is no guarantee that authentic real ale is being served. Sad to say, but that always involves a leap of faith that goes beyond your trust in the dedication and honesty of the bar owner, the brewer, and the entire infrastructure of the three-tiered system.  Let’s just say If some of those folks played an instrument it would surely be a lyre.

Shady going on are possible because real/cask-conditioned beer is not a style but the result of a specific process of brewing, fermentation and dispensing. At every point in the supply chain, critical steps must be taken to deliver that authentic, properly served, sumptuous glass of beer its fans hope for. However, when it’s not done right, you’ll be as disappointed as when you first realized that the makers of "Head and Shoulders" shampoo didn’t follow up with a body wash called, "Knees and Toes."

The term “real ale” was coined in the 1970s by CAMRA itself to be synonymous with cask ale. Hey, it’s their group so they can make up whatever they like.  Unfortunately, today some real ales are unreal.  Even worse, many are even being served via a phony hand pump.  According to FBI, Interpol, and CIA statistics producing these phony devices is as almost as lucrative as counterfeiting $3 bills or selling slippers once worn by Taylor Swift on eBay (with a certificate of authenticity of course).

The fake hand-pump dispenses pressurized beer with the use of extraneous gas. These sly contraptions craftily mimic the pulling action of a real beer engine, giving the impression that the liquid being dispensed is truly cask conditioned.  They even have a hydraulic damper which makes the pulling action slow and steady, just like the correct pouring speed of an authentic beer engine. The customer will assume he’s getting real ale but instead is receiving a pint of standard gas-infused keg beer.  In such cases you clearly have grounds for a citizens’ arrest or, at the very least, justifiable homicide. To me it’s an inexcusable outrage, mainly because I didn’t think of it first.

One way to ensure your ale is the real deal is to have it served from a firkin placed atop the bar.  A spigot is turned and gravity, not a hand pump, takes care of the rest.  Note that in this case a firkin is not really a firkin. It’s just a small cask, not the dictionary definition of 9 imperial gallons. Nonetheless, firkin is just a fun word to say, kind of like ‘arugula’. (you just said that out loud, didn’t you?)

The presence of live yeast is the defining characteristic of real/cask ale. If it’s not there it’s fair to say it’s more like a zombie ale.  Authentic cask-conditioned beer completes its secondary fermentation in the cask. Period.  If you say you really don’t care about technical brewing problems like that, I understand. That’s why I don’t tell my problems to people, eighty percent don't care; and the other twenty percent are glad I have them.

Despite the mythical image of uncarbonated British ales, a good cask beer is never served that way. It is gently carbonated.  While that may disappoint flat earthers – the only thing they fear is sphere itself - flat is never correct in beer or earth. A beer without any carbonation is dull, lifeless, and at best insipid. It has no redeeming future unlike, for example, weak and insipid white wine which makes, at length, excellent vinegar,

A well poured pint of real ale always has a nice foamy head and leaves a “lace” of goodness adhering to the sides of the glass. Those are signs that both the brewer and the pub’s cellarman, ah, I mean cellar person, have done their jobs well.  In the UK a cellar person monitors fermentation, dry hops, transfers beer between tanks, sanitizes equipment, and keeps extensive records. In the US a cellar person is often one who sits around in their underwear and trolls the internet.  I really don’t understand that particular kind of dumb activity but admire their total commitment to it.  

The big question is if real ales are so good why we don’t see them in the US. To me it smacks of a giant national conspiracy perpetuated by AB InBev. It's no less underhanded than the skullduggery in hiding the fact that Paul McCartney really did die in 1966 and was secretly replaced by Elvis Presley (after shaving off his sideburns) and the cover up over those condensation jet trails that really are full of secret chemicals seeding the atmosphere to create ever increasing amounts of rain to make the Illuminati’s stock in umbrella companies go up.

Mainstream thinking misguidedly dismisses those theories and supports the idea that real ale has a deadly combination: too short a shelf life and too low a demand.  A hand pump introduces oxygen to the beer in the cask every time the handle is pulled. Oxidizing beer will create an “off'" flavor that is very apparent after only a day or two. Even with a CO2 breather that places a blanket of gas over the beer you’ll only get a few more days of freshness.  Real ale dispensed in a firkin too has a brief shelf life of a few days. Last week, I was involved in the following conversation at a highly regarded craft ‘beer bar that features real ale in a firkin on the bar.

Me: "When was the firkin tapped?"
Bartender: "Two and a half weeks ago." [Points for honesty – the boss wasn’t around.]
Me: "What do you have on draft?"

Cask conditioned ale is so much more than simply ale in a cask. If more of brewers and bars would take time to learn the art and skill of cask-ale preparation more Americans, despite being unaccustomed to it, might embrace it’s unique and delicious flavor profiles. However, having lauded real ale, now I must warn you of one huge downside - most real ales have a merger ABV of 3% - 4 %.

Drinking any kind of beer with that little alcohol is like getting to drive a Ferrari with an empty tank.

The Dodo of Beer 

by Vince Capano

The Dodo never had a chance. He seems to have been created for the sole purpose of becoming extinct which is likely all he was good for. If you don’t know about the Dodo and prefer social media to animals, then consider Snapchat, Lemon 8, Damus, and others of their ilk that will become extinct before they become relevant. Now, the beer world is experiencing something that soon might become extinct – the tasting flight.  

The fact is that there’s an ever-increasing number of brewery tasting rooms that have removed those once-ubiquitous wooden paddles, wire baskets, and you name it shaped holders of 4-ounce tasting glasses.  Scientists say the world is made up of neutrons, protons, and electrons.  In the case of these anti-flight folks, they can add morons.

My Beer Nexus colleague, Dan Hodge recently lamented to me that five of the last seven breweries he visited five did not serve flights.  That’s about on par with my experiences.  And I’m not even counting the one brewery that featured a large sign above the taps that read: “A flight consists of two 4-ounce pours”. That’s as logical as lowering the music in your car so you can see a street sign better or putting your socks and shoes on before your pants.

Dan said he asked about the policy at several of the breweries he had visited. He sought out managers and owners. On my travels I too asked questions but instead of brewery officials who might have an agenda, I interviewed real people – those who looked like they were just about to be cut off by the bartender and families with at least one kid and three dogs (it might have been the other way around).  After all, the most honest people in the world are small children and drunks.

I then inputted our separate findings into my newly purchased desktop Acme Artificial Intelligence Turbo Generator to correlate and evaluate our findings.  For readers who might question the ability of the device let me say it’s Acme’s top of the line, Walle-Gort model, Hal series. The device is even smarter than my personal computer which regularly beats me at chess, though in my defense, I crush it in kickboxing. The only problem I’ve had with Hal is printing out its responses.  It seems my printer consists of 3 main parts – the case, the jammed paper tray, and the blinking red light.

As for the results, well, the top reasons brewers give for not serving flights are about as weak as using pencils for dumbbells in a workout, but you decide for yourself. 

Breweries say that the shape and design of each glass impacts the taste and aroma of the beer inside. Flights, however, usually come in a uniform set of glasses that do not fit the beer. Most of us would agree that pilsners are optimally served in tall, thin glasses; DIPAs in tulip glasses; and wheat beers in weizen glasses. But, if the use of a proper glass is so important to these brewers why then do they regularly serve their beer in shaker pints?  Some might say these folks are phonies and fakes but let’s be kind and go with hypocrites with good intentions.

The next most mentioned reason was that four ounces isn’t enough to fully taste the beer; that small a glass doesn’t allow for the proper head, does not allow the beer’s full aroma to blossom, and is not enough quantity for the drinker to experience the beers’ nuances.  If so, why do most breweries only pour you only an ounce when asked for a taste? To me, they're saying that’s enough to make an ordering decision.  And it is.  Even expert BJCP judges evaluate a beer by drinking only an ounce or so as do judges at major festivals including the GABF. I always ask for a taste before ordering since without that ounce my decision-making skills would closely resemble those of a squirrel crossing the street. 

The bottom line is that saying you need more than 4 ounces to judge a beer like asking how many licks of a Tabasco, Rice Krispie, vinegar, wheat germ flavored lollypop you need to know you don’t like it - not many.

When beer hits the palate taste buds are treated to an explosion of hop bitterness, malty sweetness, and multiple flavor infusions. That leads the no-flight folks to claim that drinking a flight essentially pounds your palate with a number of flavors that get lost in each other and that the mixing of styles and strengths in the flight discombobulates your senses. With that logic you should never put peas and potatoes on the same plate with a burger or mix sauce with pasta.  All I can say is that every morning, I mix coffee and Irish whiskey before going to work and have never had a problem telling one from the other.

 It's true that each style of beer reaches its fullest flavor at a certain temperature, usually between 40- and 50-degrees Fahrenheit The anti-flight crowd says that a full pint maintains an optimum temperature longer than a small flight glass. In flights, they say, the small amount of beer inside heats up faster. Once again, they preach what they don’t practice as just about every brewery serves most of their beers at or below 38 degrees. That’s almost cold enough to serve the beer on a stick.

Some brewers claim flights represent a loss of income. Huh? Breweries always charge you a higher price per ounce in a flight as opposed to the same beers in a pint. The higher price means a higher profit even including the cost of the extra 4 oz. glasses.  Sell enough flights and that  extra profit should mean the brewery won’t have to  ever worry about borrowing money to make ends meet.  Personally, I don’t worry about that either since I try to always borrow from a pessimist. They never expect to get it back.

Lastly brewers say pouring flight takes too long, is taxing on the bartender, and could delay serving other customers.  Essentially their argument is that flights make the bartender work too hard.  Look, I have nothing against lazy people, after all they didn’t do anything.  I understand lazy is a very strong word, so in the spirit of correctness  let’s just say some bartenders have selective participation in their duties. 

Flights allow you to taste beers side by side You can taste a number of similar beers to see what makes a style, you can taste stouts next to porters to understand their subtle differences, or you can run the gamut from a lager to a lambic. Not only is this fun, but it’s also educational. Tasting beers side by side is much more of a sensory revelation than drinking beers in succession. And tasting a succession of side by side beers is even better.

Flights provide an easy and enjoyable way for brewers to introduce drinkers to new styles, innovations, or experiments they would never try first with a pint.  Not many drinkers would roll the dice on buying a pint of smoked maple syrup porter aged on juniper branches and blueberries but having it in a fight is a different kind of choice.  And if we’re talking high ABV beers, flights instead of pints, can make the next day much more bearable since you won’t have to worry about beer vapor seeping out of every pore and making anyone near you tipsy.

The real question in all of this is straightforward: how does one best experience craft beer? With so many breweries out there, making so many beers, each in their own individual way, the flight is the most viable answer.  It's as obvious as realizing there are more airplanes in the ocean than submarines in the sky.

Lastly, the existence of the flight gives you the chance to go into a brewery’s tasting room and proudly say “I’ll have one of everything!”. Be sure to say it loud enough for everyone to hear, then sit back and bask in their admiring gaze.. 

Is It Good?

By Vince Capano

My Wednesday beer group (as opposed to my groups on the other 6 days) is called the T.O.E - Table of Elders.  I’m still trying to decide if that’s an insult, compliment, or simply a fact.  In any case, it’s a rather unglamorous name even by beer drinkers' standards.  Maybe the only glamorous thing associated with toes are ballet dancers. On the few times I went to the ballet I was surprised the women were on their tiptoes. I couldn’t understand why they just didn’t get taller ladies.

The prime requirement to join the T.O.E.is that you like beer and are over 21, though we rarely check IDs.  I like to think that the servers in the famed Libertine Pub look forward to our group’s arrival. That’s likely because when we leave, they won’t be seeing us for seven more days. It might also be because we trust their judgment on what to order, since our sincere and oft asked question to them is “what’s good today?”

Of course, we also ask that of each other.  It’s fair to say that when humans interact with most any sensory stimulation, we unconsciously assess the experience. Whether it’s a song floating down from a speaker, a painting, a plate of food, or, most importantly, beer.  Remaining neutral about beer is like a guy carrying a bazooka only to keep people out of his personal space.  All I know is we generally have lively discussions about what’s good and what’s not. For the record, I’m quite okay if any T.O.E.  member has a different opinion about a beer than me. I can’t force them to be right.

The question “is this beer good?” immediately implies a second, shadow question: compared to what? The various types of beer aren’t like ice cream—a base with different flavors or like knowing the difference between a well-dressed man on a unicycle and a poorly dressed man on a bicycle (attire). Beer is different in that it’s the product of ingredients and processes from brewing traditions born by culture and happenstance. Flavor can’t be evaluated in isolation. So the hard question is how do we distinguish the quality between two beers of different or similar styles? How do we decide which one is more accomplished?  Before making a decision like that I always look into a mirror, it helps me reflect.  If you don’t have a mirror handy then a BJCP handbook might help.

The Beer Judge Certification Program (BJCP) was founded in 1985 as a joint venture between the American Homebrewers Association and the Home Wine Trade Association.  The snooty winos in the HWTA, then suddenly decided to stop supporting the BJCP to start its own judging program.  For reasons lost to history (and multiple gallons of Boone’s Farm, Wild Irish Rose, and Night Train), that never happened. I never understood that collaboration in the first place.  Like a dull pencil, it was pointless. It even puts to shame infamous collaborations like Justin Bieber and Busta Rhymes for the Christmas song "Drummer Boy", Madonna & Mike Tyson duetting on "Iconic", and the wackiest collaboration (and flop) of them all, McDonald's and Moschino — an Italian luxury fashion brand. They partnered to produce a range of garments and accessories. Nearly all boasted a large stylized version of McDonald's famous M. The range included a $780 sweater and a $78 French fry phone case.  Ketchup was an extra charge. 

 As an independent entity the BJCP stated purpose is “to recognize beer tasting and evaluation skills and certify and rank beer judges through an examination and monitoring process.”  That’s no easy task.  It takes loads of knowledge to pass the test and, maybe even more importantly, as a certified judge, it demands a total commitment to being well-balanced and even- handed.  That probably explains why so many of their real jobs are as circus tight-rope walkers.

The BJCP created a framework built around style adherence and technical merit.  It is good at pointing out bad beers and acknowledging good ones, but since it was designed for brewers, it is somewhat mute on subjective, aesthetic questions such as if two beers are equally well-made and true to style but notably different, which wins the top prize?  Of course, that's not as tough a decision we all have to make this November, 2024…… .pumpkin or pecan pie for Thanksgiving.

With their training, beer judges are able to pinpoint flaws and style issues the average drinker can’t. That however does not mean we average folks don’t care about such things. We do but I’s only secondary. We care about the excitement, adventure, and fun that comes from drinking what is to us a truly wonderful beer.  Think back to when you had that first sip of a beer you instantly loved.  Your smile of delight didn’t’ stop so you could ask yourself If the beer had any technical flaws or exactly fit the style guidelines.  Over-analysis leads to drinking paralysis.

Nonetheless, it's obvious that knowing about beer styles is important. Style guidelines provide a common language to discuss beer. For example, a witbier shouldn’t be red; a Russian Imperial Stout shouldn’t be yellow, and beer shouldn't ever be alcohol free,  As I see it, the two best words in the English language are “free alcohol”, the two worst are “alcohol free”.

It’s of course  important to recognize basic technical faults. A lager shouldn’t be sour. An IPA shouldn’t be roasty. The taste of nail-polish remover is never good unless you work as an official taster for Revlon. Banana notes are fine in a Belgium ale but not in a kolsch. Knowing off flavors allows you to curse out the brewer with justification and, with a clear conscience, send back a pint even after you drank 9/10 of it.   

Even when judges rate a beer highly it’s still possible that you personally might find it downright boring -  think about almost every rice lager and cream ale out there.  And frankly, a lot of boring beers come from boring brewers. I met one the other day who identified as boring.  His preferred pronouns are ho / hum.  Right on the heels of boring are beers that somehow lack sophistication and finesse. For example, taste a few Trappist ales then try American made abbey ales. Both might be well made but the Trappist ones somehow taste more refined.  And then there are beers that are not quite what you would call refined, but they’re also not quite unrefined. If those beers were people they would be the kind that keeps a parrot.

Maybe the best way to answer the original question of what’s a good beer is to use a more holistic approach than the BJCP strict guidelines. Combining basic knowledge of styles, your subjective favor standards, and simply how much you like the beer is all you need. Then your analysis is not a blind opinion but an informed one.  And it's the right one for you.

I realize there are many who would say that approach is far too simple to evaluate beer in today’s complex craft world. They’d likely agree with H.L. Mencken's well know quote that “for every problem there is a solution which is simple, clean ……and wrong.” 

 I’ll call them on that, and raise with  “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” — Leonardo da Vinci

The Art of Beer

by Vince Capano

Who hasn't heard the age old saying, "what's on the inside is what counts,"? Most of us were taught that as tots so that we look beyond the surface of people and things that we come across in our daily lives. Then as we got older and wiser, we began to realize that it’s only true about your beer fridge.. 

A subset of that reality is when it comes to purchasing any kind of beer, wine or booze. The first thing we see before the style, name, brewery, or even ABV (what am I saying) is the package design. Now before you say any serious beer person is far too smart to be drawn in by a label, it happens.  Remember, half of being smart is knowing what you are dumb about.

You can brew the best milkshake IPA (an oxymoron for sure) on the planet, but, if your can label doesn’t catch the eye of the consumer you’re in trouble. You’ll be known just as well as anything on the second page of a Google search.  Don’t get me wrong, that second page anonymity isn’t Google’s fault; people are lazy. Google is an indispensable tool in today’s world.  I once was feeling ill, so I googled my symptoms for a cure. I had to go 4 pages deep before I found the right answer. It said all I needed was to drink three pints of any Double IPA. 

The artistic makeover of can labels, and packaging has been pivotal to craft’s appeal. Craft brewers need updated looks to match the myriad of flavors in today’s beers. Breaking with traditional brewing imagery was, and is, essential to craft’s growth.  In fact, a recent study from Ruskin University found that snazzy label designs were even more important than shelf-space in catching consumers’ attention.  That’s saying something, especially when many manufacturers pay “slotting fees” to retailers to appear on the best shelves – mainly eye level. It's a fact that the right placement can shape our purchases before we’re able to decide ourselves.  I think knowing that that might help me when I go to the beer store.  When searching through shelves I used to think I was indecisive. Now I’m not so sure.

Think back a bit when people used to associate canned beer with being cheap and having a metallic taste. Now, of course, beer drinkers overwhelmingly choose cans over bottled equivalents.  Cans are more eco-friendly than glass and they’re better at protecting the beer from air and light. But it’s the eye-catching artwork – weird, beautiful, striking – that’s really transformed the can’s image.  In fact, it’s not a stretch to say that the art of beer labels has helped the preeminence of the can. Besides, you can have more fun with cans than bottles.  As a kid I remember making a “telephone” with a string and two tin cans.  I was proud of myself until my Dad took out his iPhone and said, “That’s nice, but look at what kids your age in China make.”

Even from the early days of craft beer, bottles and cans seemed to all be saying, or maybe screaming, the same thing: drink me if you dare. Breweries relied on intense imagery to telegraph an air of exclusivity. Consider California’s Stone Brewing, whose labels feature gargoyles in a variety of aggressive poses. My local brewpub has a small gargoyle sitting at the far end of the bar that seems to be sneezing.  It’s so realistic you can almost hear the “stat-choo”.

Then there’s 3 Floyds Brewing’s classic Zombie Dust, which features the undead and Twin Elephants’ Crate Keepers with its vertigo inducing  design. They're great labels, as is the one for the IPA that started the craze for haze, Heady Topper, by The Alchemist brewery in Vermont.  It’s label artwork is eye catching and mind bending with its now-iconic drawing of a bearded, bow-tied man sipping a glass of beer—breaking the brewery’s cardinal rule to drink from the can—as a cloud of hops explodes out of the top of his head.  I see it as a warning that if you let your mind wander it may never come back.

I have noticed that recently the look of some labels has started to become a tad less over-the-top. There seem to be fewer Heady-like cans, and more modern, modular graphics. Maybe that’s because the lighter, clearer (as in minimal) flavor beers, along with the skyrocketing popularity of NA brands are subtly shifting their style of aesthetics. They don’t seem to favor explosions or dinosaurs or dancing unicorn girls from outer space.  Those don’t seem to fit with a gentle pilsner, a quiet kolsch, or ones like the world’s largest selling non-alcoholic beer (another oxymoron) Heineken 0.0.  Fortunately for those of us who love looking at excitingly wild can artwork, the most popular beer style in the nation, IPA, remains steadfast with labels that look like a roundhouse kick from Chuck Norris, which incidentally, is how he force carbonates his beer. By the way, Mr. Norris  is a big beer drinker. He has a 6 pack every night...a six pack of kegs. 

Needless to say, all people don’t think alike when it comes to what is good label art.  That’s understandable since, after all, art is a journey.  It’s just that sometimes it’s more like a trip to the DMV.  Art appreciation is something like politics.  The consensus after any election is that 100% of Americans think 50% of Americans have lost their minds.

The world of beer can art is not the wild west – there are laws.  The enforcing sheriff is the Advertising, Labeling, and Formulation Division of the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau.  That’s a lot to remember, especially for me.  My memory has gotten so bad it has actually caused me to lose my other job. Oh, I’m still employed. I just can’t remember where. 

 Not only are TTB’s regulations very specific, they are also are strictly enforced through a federal approval process for label designs. In fact, a Certificate of Label Approval (COLA) is required for all beer labels.  Interestingly, the TTB does not require a  COLA for cola.  Coke must have a strong lobby.

If you’re a beer drinker then you’ve seen what is allowed on a label, but what isn’t allowed? First, the TTB is going to turn you down if they think you’re lying on your label. They considers a statement as untrue if it’s “directly false, false by omission, generally ambiguous, or somehow misleading” (you mean all the palm trees and sandy beaches on the Kona beer label doesn’t mean it’s brewed in Hawaii?).

The TTB won’t let you make any statements they determine to be “disparaging or hurtful”. With that in mind, I suggest my local brewery quickly rename its latest batch of “Better Than The Crap From the Thieving, Dirty SOB Brewery Around The Block”.

The biggest hurdle for any brewer trying to stretch the boundaries deals with obscenity and indecency, though I do remember having a beer called Obscenely Indecent.  According to the TTB, “any statement, design, device, or representation which is obscene or indecent is prohibited". However, it’s not always clear what the TTB will consider off limits. When they reject a design, it’s fair to say the artist didn’t know where to draw the line.  As for names, well, this type of ruling is one of the hardest to judge because it depends on what a TTB representative finds obscene or indecent, not you or your customers.

Quiz: Which of these were rejected and which were  approved (if you’re using common sense, you're in trouble): Pig’s Mind Brewing PD Ale (the PD is an acronym for Panty Dropper and the label features a drawing of a woman with her underwear around her ankles), Flying Dog's Pearl Necklace Chesapeake Stout and their Raging Bitch IPA,, Sweetwater's Happy Ending Imperial Stout, Stark Brewing’s Mt. U Golden Cream Ale, and Village Idiot Brewing's Thong Remover Belgian Tripel.  Answer – all were approved,  That's about as illogical as a commercial for toilet paper.  After all, who's not already buying it?

There are more requirements of course but one can label I saw recently surely had no trouble getting approval.  It was all black with 4 stark white letters: “B E E R”.  I bought the six pack instantly.  It turned out to be a really lousy lager. I guess great art can get you to buy anything..

OUT OF CONTROL

by Vince Capano

Sometimes the current state of the craft beer business reminds me of myself: my hairline is in recession, my stomach is in inflation, and those two together bring me into a depression. All of which is to say that craft beer is now a grown up industry experiencing the things maturity brings. Of course, there are still new breweries opening but most are small, modest neighborhood places that have no desire or goal to generate big regional sales or do much more than serve their local communities.  Small is comfortable for them. Not striving to increase their business (profits) probably means they believe money can’t buy happiness. All I can say to that is they don’t know where to shop.

On the national and regional levels of brewing things are mundanely consistent. Headline making from them comes rarely nowadays, but it does happen. The most recent one I’ve seen comes from Brooklyn’s Other Half. They are the makers of some of the highest rated IPAs around.  Other Half created national news when they recently opened a new taproom in Chicago and charged $16 a glass.  And no, it wasn’t for a double IPA or served in imperial pint size, Consumer and social media pressure eventually forced a rollback to $9, but it highlighted a major issue - the out of control beer prices. They say money talks but when it comes to beer, all it says to me is goodbye.

I know the prices of just about everything have gone up from apples to smartphones.  In fact, the other day I slipped on the ice and heard something crack.  My first thought was I hoped it was a bone, not the phone. As important as phones (and bones) are, beer prices matter even more.  After all, not a single thing has ever tasted better to me than a craft beer on a beautiful afternoon with nothing to look forward to than more of the same. Raise your hand if you agree with me that if true love had a taste, it would be beer.  It’s okay to put your hand down now.

Craft prices are hard to really analyze by themselves considering the entire beer industry is experiencing a decline.  Big and small breweries alike have found out that dealing with a downturn is an uphill task. Indeed, overall sales statistics from 2023 are not good.  Even more alarming is the growing number of brewery bankruptcies and closings. You might have thought that’s impossible since so many people love beer; after all, it’s the second most popular beverage after tea (not counting water) in the world.  Well, people love Twinkies, yet Hostess went bankrupt. It seems fame and commercial success have a debatable relationship.

It’s clear that part of what’s making craft beer expensive these days is the high costs for just about every crucial brewing ingredient (from grain to hops to packaging), along with increased costs of labor, shipping and distribution. Now throw in the impact of inflation and the result is that breweries have become less profitable.  As such, they have responded with, what else, price increases in an attempt to keep (and increase) their profit margins.  As Woody Allen said, “More money is better than less money, if only for financial reasons.”

Breweries and bars might try to explain all the various factors that go into increases, but exorbitant prices like $10 for a 12-ounce glass of a very pedestrian craft beer is particularly egregious both in spirit and reality.  These places are not just maintaining their already high profit margin they’re increasing it. That sort of pricing is especially stark when seeing that most bars’ cocktail menus have many drinks ranging from $12-14.  Last week I was in a pub that offered their house Old Fashioned, made “by muddling sugar with bitters and water, bourbon or rye, and garnishing with an orange slice and a cocktail cherry, served with ice in an special old fashioned glass” for $12. They also were selling a glass of a local 7.5% ABV hazy IPA for $11.  It's fair to say most consumer see cocktails as inherently more “upscale” than beer so it’s hard to accept that sort of comparable pricing.  It’s enough to cause your brain to freeze, which medically is called Sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia. In addition to high beer prices, you can also get it by eating ice cream or just trying to pronounce it.

Of course, if you been to a stadium or arena you’ve seen high prices for beer and barely blinked. That’s because you inherently understand the economic principle of time and place utility (you want it now and the only place to get it is here), or to put it another way, you have effectively been trained to expect gouging in certain places. But paying those prices at a brewery’s own taproom or a local bar is another thing entirely. I try to go to as many new breweries as possible and have found their pricing policy often seems to be saying: “This place cost a ton of money to open, and we need to start recouping that immediately.” That will usually work for the first few weeks it’s open, but reality then sets in as customers dwindle. These places seem to believe their beer is absolutely unique. Just like everyone else’s. Maybe when they’re all standing on the unemployment line, they’ll figure out why they are there.  Their only consolation will be that they started their business with nothing and still will have most of it.

The fact is that over the past two years beer prices have outpaced inflation dramatically. Even some of the more modest local bars and taprooms have gone from “a good place for an inexpensive drink” to “do I really want to spend ten bucks on an ordinary lager?” Hey, go ahead and call me cheap but I’m not buying it though I admit on occasion I eat cereal with a fork to save milk. That’s just being a wise consumer..

It’ no secret that craft’s overall market share has suffered in recent years, losing ground to the likes of wine, spirits, premixed cocktails, and the ultimate embarrassment, non-alcohol beer.  You’ve likely seen some of the “reasons” for this here on Beer Nexus: demographic swings away from beer as a hip beverage, reduction in overall drinking rates especially by Gen X,Y, B,O,Z, O, and disenchantment with beer styles (not another hazy IPA) plus others. However, when I browse beer communities online, or listen to the conversations of bar denizens (while sober), these factors are rarely discussed. What they’re all talking about is one thing - price.  It’s almost to the point where someone can say “I gave up drinking craft beer. Now finally I own a house. Who knew it was this easy?”

There was a time when I thought that $16 for a 4 pack of beer was shockingly high.  Now that ceiling has reached absurd heights of $29 or more.  At prices like that it’s impossible to deny that beer simply feels like a poor value.  It’s a lesson other businesses have learned, most especially, the food industry.  While many restaurants struggle, fast food places continue to thrive since customers see their product as having value versus the price. For example, Taco Bell is providing more value than ever. Where else can you get gas for $1.49?

The bottom line is you can’t blame someone for buying a bottle of whiskey for $20, or wine for $12, when the hot new brewery taproom down the street or the town pub is asking $10 for a “full” pour (covert way of saying you’re not getting16 ounces) of a nondescript ale.  We’ve at the point where beer prices have simply become too hard to justify.  Because of that I'm officially boycotting any brewery that sells stuff I can't afford.  And I’m applying that savvy practice to everything I do. For example, instead of paying $80 for ancestry DNA kit, I recently announced I won the lottery. I quickly found more relatives than I ever knew I had.

Some uncharitable folks might say all my complaining about high prices is because I personify the old critique of someone who has  "champagne tastes but only a beer pocketbook". That isn’t true.  Case in point, yesterday I bought some great champagne. It was the “champagne of beers” – Miller High Life.

I got a 30 pack of 12 oz. cans for $16.99. That kind of pricing is definitely not out of control.

AULD LANG SYNE 

by Vince Capano

Poof –There goes another year of beer which means it’s time to address the questions posed when you welcomed in 2024 with a vigorous, full throated chorus of Auld Lang Syne (even if you didn’t know what you were singing.)

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?” 

Most assuredly yes since most of my acquaintances this year were, unfortunately, less than good beers. Forgetting them, however, is easier said than done. Maybe I could get some advice on how to do that from those brewers who so easily forget to put any taste in their beer or can’t remember when to stop before their creation became an atomic juicy fruit bomb.  More than once this year I was so tired of them I switched to good old orange juice.  I felt better for it, probably because of its vitamin C, folate, and potassium.  Then again, it might also have been the vodka.   

According to reliable sources – three semi-conscious regulars at the end of the Libertine Pub’s long bar – the worst beer made in 2023 (not counting my homebrew) was Miller Genuine Draft 64.  And at least four major websites agreed with that assessment. Notably, BeerNexus was not one of them.  After all, MGD 64 never pretended to be anything more than what it is – a beer for the Gen Z folks. They’re the group that make important life decisions by taking an X (Twitter) poll and going with the most retweeted option. It’s not worth arguing with these folks.  When a beer argument comes up I handle them the same I do a software license agreement..... ignore it all and click "I agree”.

All this is not a knock on the regular Miller Genuine Draft since in reality it is slightly less horrible than most of the American macro lagers out there.  The 64 version, as in 64 calories, is another case however.  All of which supports my theory that the higher the calories (mostly from the alcohol), the tastier the beer.  Having said that I do admit to counting calories when drinking beer. I keep trying to beat my high score. 

"For auld lang syne my dear for auld lang syne"   

Yes, for “times long past” before many a beer brand bit the dust. Sadly in 2023 we lost beers because of the ravages of the marketplace, greenhouse gas admissions, the gulf stream, and the Barbie movie. Today you can forget about enjoying a traditional half and half (Black & Tan) since the famous Bass ale has gone the way of the Rocky Mountain locust and the Dodo bird.  Guinness is now heavily pushing to get bartenders to swap in Harp for the Bass.  Harp, is owned by Diageo who, by sheer coincidence, also owns Guinness. It’s the same kind of coincidence as in that fact that there’s 24 hours in a day and 24 beers in my fridge.

Joining the list of the fallen this past year was the incomprehensible Bud Light Lime Raz-Ber-Rita though by all reports bootleg versions are readily available in your local beer black market.  Gone too are brews like 16 Bit Pale, Velvet Rooster Red, Atlas Blonde, St. Pauli Girl, Boddingtons, Presidente Light, Stella Solstice, Stella Midnight, Side Project Fuzzy and OEC Cúvee de Gorgoroth.  Oh the beermanity.  I probably should add every beer from Anchor to that list, but I don’t want to upset those still mourning its demise.  Suffice to say that Anchor (Fritz Maytag) truly blazed the trail for modern American craft beer. Anchor had a staggering lifespan of 127 years but as most things do, it began to show its age in recent years.  When I get to be Anchor’s age I’ll hopefully still be young at heart. Age, you see, is just an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind getting older, then it really doesn’t matter.  

“We'll drink a cup of kindness yet
For the sake of auld lang syne”

Here, Robert Burns, (the poem/song’s author), is asking us to knock down a few pints - a kind request if I've ever heard one- in salute to the year gone by.  If the year was good, it will bring back fond reminiscences and if it wasn’t you won’t care.

 Burns is Scotland’s national poet, a voice for common humanity who is revered wherever the tartan is worn. Whisky drinkers claim him as their own, thanks to poems like “Scotch Drink,” “A Bottle and Friend,” “John Barleycorn,” and, “The Devil’s Away Wi’ The Exciseman.”  However, he was also a well-known beer drinker who often would follow a few drams of Scotch with tankards of ale.  As he wrote:

Chorus-O gude ale comes and gude ale goes;
Gude ale gars me sell my hose,
Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon-
Gude ale keeps my heart aboon!

Burns gets no credit for clarity, but ale is ale in any language and will make any heart go aboom no matter how you spell it.

The problem with Auld Lang Syne is that it celebrates the past but what about the future? Not to worry – here are my predictions for beer in 2024.  I guarantee total accuracy since before taking up writing about beer I was a professional fortune teller. The problem was I could only foretell bad weather. Turns out the mystics’ shop sold me a snow globe instead of a crystal ball. 

Four predictions for beer in 2024

Prediction 1 –

Civilization will continue its decline thanks to Gen Z in particular.  Their creation of the "sober curious" movement, a desire to live without social or private beer drinking is subversive and seditious. How else would you describe their embrace of non-alcohol beer, wine, and spirits. Look, alcohol may not be the answer but it sure will help you forget the question.

Even worse, those are the folks who have foisted Dry January and Sober October on us. Do you know what happens to you when you go 2 months without beer?  Neither do I.  Maybe I should give it a try as long as I can have a beer whenever I want.

Prediction 2

 More new hop products, particularly hop extracts and oils, to enhance the aromatics and flavors of IPAs will be introduced.  This past year saw a proliferation  of new hops like HBC 1019, HBC 1134, McKenzieTM C-148, along with innovative liquid hop products like SPECTRUM and INCOGNITO.  To cash in on the frenzy, I predict, hops like Columbus, Centennial, Citra, Simcoe, Tettnanger, and Mosaic will be given indecipherable numbers and letters to convince drinkers they’re actually experiencing new taste sensations which will justify even higher prices.  It may sound foolish but as Aeschylus (or was it P.T. Barnum?) wrote long ago, “What may sound foolish, can be a profitable thing,”.

Prediction 3

A surprising large number of small breweries will go out of business because they thought they were smarter and more sophisticated than their customers.  They focused on styles they believed people should be drinking and not what they want.  Forgot the commonplace IPA, bring on the likes of  Dampfbier, Altbier, Grodziskie, Grisette and tafelbier  Those are the same brewers who also have an unrepentant faith in Pumpkin beers.  The most aggressive of these breweries will be forcefully shut down by avenging craft beer vigilantes who are on a mission from God.

Prediction 4

Festivals and industry events will continue to decline in number thanks to a lingering pandemic hangover and greedy organizers charging upwards of $80 a ticket (VIP another $50 of course).  Add in what was once a 4-hour festival is now 3 with pedestrian offerings and you have a recipe for extinction.  I recently was thinking of going to a festival and challenged the organizer on his high prices.  I told him I used to pay $30 a ticket at a similar festival in a neighboring town. He replied, “So, go to that festival and pay the $30.”  I shook my head and said “I can’t, it’s out of business.” He nodded, “Right. And as soon as I’m out of business, I’ll be able to charge $30, too!”.  I bought the ticket.

Best wishes for a beer filled year with loads of auld lang synes.

Oh Christmas Ales

by Vince Capano

Think back to July when Anchor Brewing Company announced that, due to “tough economic realities, Christmas would be officially canceled this year”. Yes, their long-standing salute to yuletide, “Our Special Ale”, was to be no more. I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it. Unfortunately, that good news foretold bad news. Proving that every silver lining has a cloud, within a few months the entire iconic brewery would be closed.

Anchor was a fine brewery except for that one lousy beer, which is, or rather was, one of those beers you really didn’t like but had to pretend to enjoy to keep your beer geek credibility. For reasons unknown it became a welcome holiday benchmark for many a serious beer drinker.  Now with its demise it’s a good bet that some of those beer influencers will feel free to admit the obvious and say, in the words of British beer critic Peter Brown, “good riddance to bad rubbish”.   

If you’ve never had it, think over- spiced plum syrup with cinnamon, coriander, juniper, orange peel, and stealthy lingering in every sip, an ever-changing botanical. And that was for a good year. You won’t know for sure what to expect since the beer has never had a fixed recipe. Not only did it change from year to year, but many insiders claimed it changed with the multiple brewings within the year.  I’m not blaming the brewers, I’m sure they tried for consistency. The problem was that trying was their first step toward failure.

 That might be one reason why you’d see it on the shelves for months and months after the holidays and why now it’s a staple for those doing vertical tastings – it’s easy to get leftover ones.  Its (prior) sales numbers proved you can’t fool all the people some of the time, but you can fool some people all the time. And then there are people like me who they tried to make fools of. but it didn’t ever work.  We’re the do it yourself type.

Looking at the shelves this holiday season, it occurs to me that Christmas beer must’ve been invented by Scrooge himself. Only those used to getting coal in their stockings could embrace this anything-goes Christmas/Holiday “style” of beer.  All of this begs the question: what is a Christmas beer style?

Take a look at some of the cans and bottles I just saw today at the beer store.  Great Lakes Christmas Ale is made with honey. Schlafly Christmas Ale is made with juniper berries. Kane Holiday Donut Ale is made with, yup, donuts, and Toregg’s Mad Elf is made with cherry Robitussin (if not, they’ve cloned its recipe perfectly).  On the bright side I did see Shiner Holiday Cheer, which made me feel like a 14-year-old kid again since that’s when I used to drink it regularly.

Don’t look for any uniformity on what makes for a Christmas ale the import aisle: France’s Brassier La Choulette makes a biere de garde for the season; Brasserie Dubuisson’s Scaldis Noel from Belgium is a strong dark ale; Germany’s Brauerei Mahr makes a Christmas Bock; Harvey’s Christmas Ale from England is a barleywine. All good but all dissimilar. The only thing they seemingly have in common is their warming high potency which is perfect for snowy cold days as well as for ones that aren’t.

So it seems that Christmas beers are basically a tradition and not a style.  Other styles, like India pale ale and stout and bock, might have been born out of tradition, too, but each is made to specific criteria—the type and amount of malt and hops, the flavor, the body, the alcohol content, all of it related to the available ingredients and brewing methods of their time.  Christmas beers, by contrast, are as fanciful as stockings hung by the chimney with care or of dreams of a flying Rudolph. It follows no criteria. Or, to put it another way, Santa doesn’t give a reindeers' poop about the BJCP (Beer Judge Certification Program) style guidelines. 

Actually, the BJCP, arbiters and protectors of all styles, do mention what makes a Christmas Ale. Their official guidelines say its aroma should be “reminiscent of Christmas cookies,” its appearance should be “amber to dark brown”, and it must taste “rich and malty.”  Ah, that clears it up.  It reminds me of the street sign I saw driving in to the BeerNexus International Headquarters today.  It said” This road may or may not be closed on or about Dec. 1 for some amount of time.  Plan alternate routes if it's necessary.” Clear as mud.

Classic styles, like English winter warmers and German Christmas lagers seem to me much more authentic than American Christmas beers made with, let’s say, Brussel sprouts, but do even the classics qualify as Christmas beers in the guidelines? Even Samichlaus Bier—the highly regarded Doppelbock from Austria that is brewed only on St. Nicholas Day,  may not qualify as a Christmas beer.  That’s a tough call considering it’s even named after Santa Claus himself. Someone will be getting coal in their stocking over that.  Personally, getting coal for Christmas never really bothered me.  Early on I realized trading 364 days of fun for only one of coal was a good deal.

Maybe the most authentic Christmas drink is wassail.  It’s a beverage made from hot mulled cider, ale, or wine and spices, drunk traditionally as an integral part of “wassailing”, which is an ancient English Yuletide drinking, ah, that's singing, ritual.  It consists of the caroling of songs by happy groups of red-nosed revelers, marching from door to door at Christmas time, carrying decorated cups that would be filled and refilled and refilled with ale.  You can take your choice if their red noses came from the winter cold or too much wassail.  Hopefully for the sake of the wassailers, it’s the latter.

Many nations have a traditional Christmas drink. In much of Scandinavia, they warm up with steaming mugs of gløgg– a drink made with raisins, almonds, spices and a shot of aquavit. In Germany, it’s  Weihnachtsbier. In Lithuania, it’s time for kvass, made from black bread. In Denmark they enjoy julebryg a dark brown lager.  I guess there’s no real explanation of exactly why those particular drinks have become traditions.  Maybe Mark Twain was right when he said “The less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it”.

Here in the US, before Prohibition, it seems Christmas beer was little more than the usual lager from a major brewer distinguished by the fact that it was advertised in newspapers by, who else, Santa Claus. After Prohibition Christmas beer here was not much more than a slightly more malty and darker lager than the breweries made normally. It’s big claim to being a Christmas beer was that is was packaged in red-and-green cases and it’s labels were adorned with Christmas trees and snow men.  That continued until the craft beer revolution began producing a wild diversity of holiday beers.

Happily, that revolution led to my persona lfavorite Christmas beer celebration. That’s Celebration as in Sierra Nevada’s Celebration, an oh so tasty pale ale. nothing more and nothing less.  It features Cascade hops supplemented by Cascade hops.  Cascades ,to me, have become as much symbol of the holiday season as Poinsettias, Holly, and kids shooting their eye out with Red Ryder range model air rifle with a compass and clock in the stock. Cascades say Christmas so much so that I even substitute it for mistletoe.  Let's just say the results of that are open to debate.

Hopefully Santa reads this column and takes the hint, bringing only good beer to all of us, but just in case he still doesn’t get it here's a poem to convince him..

Oh Christmas ales, oh Christmas ales

Why do you taste like an old sock?
Why does Santa gift them to me
I really wish he would stop.

You smell like a yellow snow drift
And you’re thick and chewy like gum.
No one would give you as a gift,
If they'd ever drunken some.

I really hate to be wasteful,
And I don't want to seem insane,
But you are just so distasteful,
You're going down the drain!

Cheers and Happy Holidays!

In fond memory of the late Greg Katz, a true craft beer virtuoso, the editors republish this article from the Nexus archives.

The Paladin of Beer by Vince Capano

Paladin- A heroic champion; a defender or advocate of a noble cause; a person of pure honor; Paladins must

be intelligent and have a very strict code of honor in which they live by; heroic warrior that relies on chivalry

and positive Karma; someone who provides healing to those in need.

Now just why would a serious craft beer guy order two beers at once?  Being a direct person I simply asked.  The

person being questioned, Mike Fleck, was equally direct.  “I’m going to drink one now but the other I want to let warm

up so the true flavors can come out.”  Mike had never done this any other time I’ve been in his company at the craft

beer mecca, The Tap Room, so why now? That was one question however that I knew the answer to even before

asking.  Like the Lone Ranger leaving a silver bullet, Zorro leaving the sign of the Z, or Buffy leaving a trail of

deceased (finally) vampires behind her, letting a beer warm up meant that Mike had recently spoken to the man

himself, the one and only Paladin of Beer.

Paladin is an apt title indeed since our hero has been a knight, albeit without armor, in a savage land of macro

beers.  He’s a solider of beer, roaming bars and pubs around the globe spreading the word of quality brews.  I’ve

heard tales about him from distributors, brewers, bartenders, and most of all from my fellow beer drinkers.  In places

with names like Copper Mine, Maloney’s, Stirling Hotel, Blind Tiger, and Andy’s Corner Bar he is legend. By day he’s

an unassuming businessman but by night he is on a mission from Saint Gambrinus himself.  He is Greg Katz.

Greg is perhaps the single best known beer drinker in bars throughout New York and New Jersey.  You can walk into

almost any good beer pub within 40 miles of his hometown, Maplewood NJ, and safely assume people there know

him if not by name then by sight and if not by sight then by the change he makes in what they order.  You see, Greg

talks beer to anyone who will listen …. and often times to those who don’t.  He’ll strike up a conversation about beer

even if you have a glass of wine or a martini in your hand.  If you’re a wine person he’ll explain how beer has more

varieties and flavors than the fruit of grape.  If you’re a macro beer drinker he’ll extol the heavenly flavors in craft

beer.  And if you like good beer already, Greg will tell you just what to do to enjoy the full depth of the beer

experience.

Greg was not born a beer savant; it took hard work.  Okay, so maybe saying it was hard work is a slight stretch; let’s

just say it took a lot of drinking over a lot of years.  As Greg puts it, “when I started drinking beer all I wanted was

enough suds to get drunk. Then one day I was in a store and saw a beer whose name I couldn’t pronounce.  I

decided to take a chance and bought it.  It was Plzeňský Prazdroj.  That changed everything.”

Don’t worry, I looked it up for you.  Plzeňský Prazdroj is better known by its German name, Pilsner Urquell.

“The key to learning about beer is the willingness to experiment” according to Greg.  And experiment he did though it

wasn’t easy.  After all, when Greg began his beer studies it was in the dark ages of craft beer. It was a time when the

likes of Rolling Rock and Michelob were considered gems of the brewer’s art.  With his Pilsner Urquell epiphany,

Greg realized there had to be other great beers out there.  And so his quest began.  He went to countless bars and

sought out their home grown beer experts to learn from.   With his job located in New York City, Greg had the good

fortune to be present when the Big Apple’s craft beer movement took off.  It was there he learned about Belgium

beers at the famed Burp Castle, discovered German purity at the legendary Ginger Man, and saw the light (and

dark) at the world famous McSorley’s.  It was in the big city that he was able to sit down and talk beer with Brooklyn

Brewery’s internationally acclaimed brewer Garrett Oliver and even with the iconic beer hunter himself, the revered

Michael Jackson.  

“Beer people are the best.  Almost everyone I met helped me learn something new.  It’s thanks to them that beer is

an automatic part of my lifestyle.”  And a nice lifestyle it is as I followed Greg around on a few of his “circuit” stops.  

The “circuit” is his name for an ever widening group of pubs that he regularly frequents because they specialize in

craft beer.  If a bar is on the circuit then you can be assured of two things – they serve good beer and business will

improve thanks to Greg’s touting of the establishment to his beer loving friends.    

According to Greg the only way to get on the circuit is to have “a large rotating tap list, beer dinners, meet the brewer’

s nights, special beer events, servers who can seriously talk about beer, and be widely recognized by beer

aficionados as well as the well informed quality beer drinking public.”  It’s all a bit involved if you ask me.  If I were

doing the selection it would all be very simple.  Give me a few free beers and bingo, you’re at the top of the list.

The path traveled by Greg has not been as smooth as you might think.  Some people are just resistant to change.  

When Greg’s pleas are ignored by a swill loving drinker he patiently explains his broccoli theory. “Remember when

as a kid you found that piece of dreaded broccoli on your plate?  Bet you said you didn’t like it and Mom’s retort was

how could you know that if you’ve never tried it before? Well, it’s the same thing with craft beer.  You can’t say you

don’t like it if you don’t try it!”  Makes sense but then again I wonder how he explains that I love good beer but still

hate broccoli.

Most of the erstwhile macro drinkers that Greg encounters insist nothing is more refreshing on a hot summer’s day

than a super cold can of Coors Light with the fully activated double blue cold line.  He counters with tales of Victory

Prima Pils, Bell's Oberon , Anchor Summer Beer, and just about any good German Hefeweissbier.  To make his point

he’s been known to actually buy a round of craft beer for his potential convert and then let the beer speak for itself.  

One caveat, if you run into Greg at a bar don’t expect him to actually buy you a beer no matter how many Coor’s

Light cans you wave in his face.  He only buys beer for attractive females.  Hey, we said this guy is a Paladin, not a

Bozo.

It really doesn’t take long to help someone develop an appreciation for good craft beer according to Greg.  “Just

start drinking.  There’s an enormous variety of good beers out there. Not just different styles like pilsners, porters,

stouts and ales, but unique spins on each that add an array of other ingredients. The only rule I insist on, regardless

of what you’re drinking, is that you  let the beer sit on the tongue; allow it to resonate on your taste buds.”   

Greg uses his bar stool pulpit wisely.  You’ll never hear him talk about politics, religion or even the weather – it’s all

about beer.  And that’s an especially good thing.  Beer, as he often says, brings people together.  “All nations and

types of people drink beer.  Give everyone enough beer and any problem can be solved.”  That already makes

more sense than almost anything coming out of Washington, DC.  Greg, if you ever run for office, I'll be voting for you... ,,early and often. 

Still, even a Paladin can be challenged by another expert.  When that happens it’s a duel as exciting as high noon on

any old West street.  Greg, by most accounts, is undefeated though I thought he had at long last met his match when

in a heated discussion he was asked to give the most correct pronunciation of "gueuze, Westvleteren, oud bruin,

and Trappist".   

He answered the question with a question – “would you like the pronunciation in English, Flemish, or French?”  

Put another notch on the glass of the Paladin of Beer.

Pumpkin Absurdity 

by Vince Capano

He was described by some as the “greatest natural batsman that ever played,” He compiled a batting average of .356 during ten years in the majors. His average of .408 in 1911 still stands as a major-league rookie record.  He was a country boy from South Carolina who never learned to read or write much yet was widely idolized by millions of kids across the nation. He was “Shoeless” Joe Jackson. The glory and cheers, however, stopped in 1919 when it was rumored he had taken a bribe to sink his team in the final of the World Series. His fans hung around the stadium chanting “Say it ain't so Joe".  Since then, “Say it ain’t so”, has became the lament of those struggling to believe what they fear is true, of those with broken hearts from the harshness of reality, and of those who are witness to the unimaginable.  Now, once again, those words of sad despair have been heard. This time not on a ballfield but at the venerable Libertine Pub. 

Say it ain’t so Libertine – how can 14 of your 15 taps be pouring pumpkin beers?

The shock and dismay on the faces of everyone entering the Libertine the other day couldn’t be hidden when they looked at the beer menu and saw the staggering number of pumpkin beers available.  Many thought it an early April Fools joke. Some got up to personally check the tap handles hoping it was all just a misprinted menu.  Alas, there was no mistake. They, like most true cerevisaphiles, weren’t happy just to skip past pumpkin beer on the menu, they were incensed that it was there at all.

The fact of the matter is that no seasonal style, perhaps no other style of beer, is as controversial, as polarizing, as simultaneously loathed and adored (mainly by dipsomaniac sots) as pumpkin beer. 

BeerAdvocate currently lists more than 1,600 examples of the style (I made that number up since no one is actually going to count them to prove me wrong). For many consumers its appearance on the shelves is as reliable a marker of the time of year as falling leaves and the end of daylight savings time. Wait, that’s not really true.  In recent years pumpkin beer arrives mid-July, which inevitably brings that universal lament "man, these fall beers come out earlier and earlier every year!". That of course does not hold true for members of the Flat Earth Society who believe fall actually begins in mid-summer since, according to their website, "the sun circles closest to the North Pole in June, then spends the next six months spiraling slowly outward toward the ice wall at the edge of the world." Clearly those folks have had a few too many Imperial Barrel Aged Pumpkin Barleywines.

Beer insiders call pumpkin beer in July “seasonal creep” but it’s mostly just creepy. It’s a good bet that those brewers previously worked at a calendar factory and were shocked when they got fired. They couldn’t understand why when all they did was just take a few days off.

The fact is that when it comes to pumpkin beer, breweries aren't actually making a "seasonal" beer because they aren't using ingredients that are in season when the beer is made. I’m not even sure where you’d get pumpkins in July. 

Some of those same breweries often claim they use local seasonal ingredients throughout the year, but in reality, they import out of season ingredients so they can be the first to market.  They’re the kind of guys who go to a Hypocrite's Anonymous meeting and asks everyone “what's your name?”

Maybe part of the problem is that far too often pumpkin beers aren’t pumpkin beers.  They just pretend to be.  I have some advice for them.  In fact, it’s the same advice I’d give someone who is pretending they’re in a jungle and asks what they should do if a tiger is chasing them and is about to pounce - Stop Pretending!  Loads of brewers now use precisely zero pumpkin or squash or gourd of any kind in their creations. Instead, they’re simply making spiced beer; think clove, nutmeg, cinnamon – with a touch of artificial flavoring to tie it all together. All of which makes these pumpkin beers like a fake noodle – it’s an impasta. It's a sort of a flavor profile bait and switch, and it’s not an effective one. 

Breweries feel pressure to produce a pumpkin beer early to get it onto crowded taps before others do. That often leads to the production of beers of mixed-to-low quality due either to a lack of ability or not having a real interest in the style. Even those using real pumpkin can struggle to balance fruit and spice and beer style. In short, pumpkin beers are the holiday fruitcake of the beer world: rarely fresh, often not worth consuming even when they are. Of course instead of using that fruitcake as a boat anchor, doorstop, or brick, you can try soaking it in pumpkin beer.  It's a match made in......ah, let's just say it's main street is Brimstone Boulevard, 

I can still remember my history teacher telling the class that long before European colonists ventured across the Atlantic, Native Americans appreciated pumpkins. They could dry it, it would last a long time, it was prolific, it grew like a weed, and the fruit was massive. It could be roasted for snacks or serve as a valuable food source when meat wasn’t available.  Clearly the Native Americans were smart, resourceful people.  So smart in fact that there are no accounts of any Native Americans making pumpkin beer. 

Although American colonists struggled to survive the brutal winters and to plant successful crops in the New World, they had surprisingly good success in growing pumpkins. It quickly became a vital part of their diets, not only as food, but as beer. Those early colonists saw pumpkins as a cheap and plentiful source of fermentable sugars.  Little did they realize that, like buying cheap brakes for your car, some wouldn’t be able to stop.

Today there are some people who would never drink a beer made with creamed cheese powder, whole broccoli, fried baloney, or turkey gravy but think cloves and allspice fit nicely in beer. My only guess is their taste buds still suffer from eating all that paste in third grade. And that’s totally okay. We here at BeerNexus don’t condemn them. In fact, paste eating and window licking are two of our favorite pastimes.

As for the Libertine, I’m willing to guess that even the most ardent fans of pumpkin spiced beer would see 14 of 15 beers on draft as being just a tad excessive (btw, Guinness was #15).  I asked Kyle, the bartender (who describes himself as “just a pharmacist with a limited inventory”) what the heck was going on. He just shook his head and said, “I don’t order them, I just pour ’em”.  I then asked how sales were going. Finally, a smile crossed his weary face.  I was surprised because I just couldn’t believe pumpkin beers were that popular at such a serious craft beer bar. Kyle said, “Sales are great! We’ve sold more pints of Guinness in the last week than in the previous 5 months combined.  Every day is St. Patrick's Day!”. 

Don’t get me wrong, pumpkin beer drinkers deserve to be happy too. I wish them well. Even more, I implore you not to yell at them on X, Instagram, or Facebook.  Please do not scoff at their selections when you see someone purchase a pumpkin beer at a store or bar. Remember, you only have so much energy to use. Someone will probably release a candy cane / plum pudding flavored beer in December so let’s all save some outrage for that.

The Gift 

by Vince Capano

It’s nice to get a present.  Even better if it’s unexpected.  And if that present happens to be from your only, ah, I mean favorite, cousin  then we’re talking off the charts levels of joyous happiness heretofore only experience by a kid when hearing of multiple snow days off from school or getting a pencil with an eraser that doesn't smudge his homework paper.  And for those cynics that think only a lot of money can buy real happiness let me set you straight.  A person with $19 million can be just as happy as a someone with $22 million.

It started when a vaguely mysterious, though totally standard, Amazon box was delivered to my desk here at BeerNexus International Headquarters.  It was small (the package, not the Headquarters)  It was rectangular.  It was light enough to be a can of Campbell's soup but heavy enough to be three dozen beer bottle caps.  I was hoping for the bottle caps since I was planning on brewing a clone of the legendary Westvleteren 12, only made by the Trappists at Sint-Sixtus Abbey in Belgium.  Frankly, I expected my version to be significantly better than the original, but I eventually decided not to make the beer since it would require me becoming a monk.  I had rejected that thought years ago.  Back then I seriously considered becoming a Gregorian monk but never got the chants. 

Hearing no ticking from the box after only a short time of soaking it in the office break room sink, I finally opened it.  It was a book -  The Audacious Zen of Beer.  It was subtitled: How Beer Solved The Disappearance of Amelia Earhart. I didn’t even know she was missing, let alone a beer drinker.

 I was especially excited since the book was not in my collection.  I mainly have lowbrow beer books like “How to Chug A Beer In Record Time”, “How to Scam A Free Beer”, and “It’s A Daft Craft Draft”.  My library does however include some self-help books like "Awkward Beer Drinking and YOU!"  and "How to Fold Paper to Make A Beer Stein". Perhaps the only highbrow book I had before this gift was “The Collected Works of Beergoolie”.

The book’s slick cover had a picture of Rodin's The Thinker staring at two glasses of beer. I didn’t quite get it.  What’s a statue going to do with beer? I opened the book and saw that each chapter began with a quote about beer from a famous person.  Here are just some of those chapter lead-ins.

“So I stayed in bed and drank beer. When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat.”—Charles Bukowski

“Drink your beer slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves–slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.” -Thich Nhat Hanh

“Drinking beer reminds you that the universe is already taking care of you” -Laddha

You are never alone when drinking beer. You are eternally connected with everyone”–Amit Ray

Somehow, I got the impression this book isn’t going to be a lot of laughs…..a lot like my columns. To be honest, I never heard of any of the people quoted, though I do know a brewer named Charles, watched all those Hanh Solo Star Wars movies, had a dog named Laddha, and as a kid played with an official Flash Gordon Ray gun.  Close enough.

Skimming through the book I looked for pictures.  There weren’t any.  That could only mean one thing - reading it wasn’t going to be easy.  I prefer reading books with a lot of pictures.  I know you’re thinking comic books or as we savvy folks call them, graphic novels.  I do admit some graphic novels are essentially over produced comic books, with a plot that doesn't seem to be going anywhere.  Sort of like this article (don’t worry you only have a few paragraphs to go.)

I don’t know if it will be a good read or not but I’m sure it’s a far cry from those beer books published during the exhilarating and intoxicating (literally) days when the craft beer boom first started in the mid-1960s and then became a commercial juggernaut in the 1990s.  With some significant exceptions beer books then seemed to consist of listings of the best beers in various states.  Imagine the thrill of knowing everything about the breweries in places like Mississippi or Utah or Idaho.  Breathtaking stuff.

Another popular type of beer book then were ones to log in your beers, a sort of manual Untappd. I went through more than a few of them. Because there was a always chance of spilling beer on it I always carried a pen that could write underwater.  It could write other words too.

Some books back then were of the self-help type.  Most notable was the best seller A Beginners Guide to Choosing The Best Seat to Drink Beer on a Merry Go Round. The title may seem a bit long winded, but it gave the reader sound advice, the most important of which is if you find yourself riding a horse while being chased by a Lion with a Giraffe on your left and a unicorn on your right, then get off the carrousel and stop drinking. 

Unpacking my new book I discovered, an Amazon generated note from my cousin saying she heard about the book on a podcast and thought I would enjoy it.  She is such a thoughtful person; translation- now there’s no way to avoid writing a thank you note. That’s always a chore but it seems Amazon knows human nature, at least the nature of lazy folks like me. A close look at my cousin’s missive revealed an Amazon QR code on the bottom to automatically reply to the sender.  I attempted to use it.  Given my tad less than masterful technological abilities the process was, let’s be kind, a learning adventure. 

When I eventually got to the online spot for me to write my thanks I found that Amazon had several pre-written messages waiting to be selected and sent. There were three choices: 1. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. 2. Thank you for the nice gift. 3. The gift I sent you for your birthday was worth quadruple the value of what you sent but thanks anyway.

Clearly none of those would do. I deftly figured out how to remove those and write a more elegant, personal note.  After 25 minutes or so (you can't rush creativity not to mention countless times hitting the wrong letter) it had became a grueling struggle. Nonetheless, I steadfastly pushed on. Adding to the challenge was the fact I was in the middle of a power outage making the tiny keys on my phone even harder to find, something I didn't think was possible.

Finally finished, I firmly hit a bar on the screen that said "send".  Flushed with success I was able to sleep soundly that night comforted by the fact it was a good thank you note well written.  I woke up in the morning with the electricity having been restored and a smiling sun in the sky.  All was right with the world until I saw a message from Amazon that my note was “undeliverable”.

 I refuse to be beaten down by Amazon's sly plan to make me look like an ungrateful bozo.  I’m going to write my cousin an email from the trusty laptop I’m using right now. Wait -  why send her a note when she can just read this article?  Genius idea.  Guess now all I have to do is add seven more words -  

Thanks Mary, next time just send beer.

Cooler Than Cool by Vince Capano

Back in September 2022 I wrote an article here on BeerNexus called “Mr. Cool”.  It was about my friend Richie, beer savant, raconteur, and insightful analysist of all things brewed, vinted, and distilled.  It turned out to be one of the most popular ones on the site with over 10,000 hits (to this day there is no hard evidence to prove that 9,999 of those were from Richie). I was convinced that when it came to coolness no one would or could ever top him.  Until now.

I was sitting at the far end of the long, highly polished, wood bar at The Libertine Pub when a gentleman came in and sat next to me.  I had only gone there for the great happy hour special, “buy one beer for the price of two, and get your second beer free” and not for a writing topic. Yet, as our conversation went on, I realized this guy was so special, I simply had to tell you about him.  He was super cool; in fact, he was simply The Coolest Person in the World. How cool is more than cool?  If he were to mispronounce your name, you would feel compelled to change it. Mosquitos refuse to bite him purely out of respect. He once ran a marathon because it was on his way. And if he were to pat you on the back, you would list it on your resume.

Fortunately, in front of me was a stack of bar napkins I could use as a pad to write down any bits of wisdom he might say.  I went through quite a few napkins though I admit using one of them to catch a sneeze.  In my defense it was either that or use my T-shirt sleeve.  It wouldn't have been pretty.

Now, I’m happy to share the CPW's insights with you. Each quote is exact. You’ll surely agree with me that these astute, penetrating, discerning, and perspicacious remarks stand alone in their coolness.  

The top 15 comments from the Coolest Person In The World:

1. I asked about cooking with beer. He said, “You should always marinate mushrooms in beer but after a while it might be hard to tell who’s more marinated, you or the mushrooms.” 

2. A guy at a table next to us ordered a boiler maker of sorts – a shot of bourbon and a pint of cider.  The CPW just shook his head and said “When ordering bourbon with cider I recommend you wave the glass of bourbon over the cider then drink it.  You can then safely throw out the cider.”

3. The Libertine uses artful tap handles from the breweries.  Sadly, many bars are now opt for generic small black levers with numbers instead.  Of that “CPW” said, “I never trust a bar or brewery where you order by number; they might pour you water by mistake. I never drink water, have you seen the way it rusts pipes?”  

4. The TV on the far side of the bar had on a tense championship poker match.  The CPW looked briefly at the screen and shook his head.  He leaned in and in with a knowing voice of experience said softly, “Never play poker with anyone who is named Mississippi Smith.”

5. I discovered the CPW was a film noir enthusiast like me, a big fan of Noir Alley on the TCM channel.  I asked what he thought of last week’s film and he said, “That movie is so bad you can’t watch it sober – it’s a movie made for lots of a barleywine.”

6. We overheard a conversation at a nearby table.  One person said his Pilsner tasted like bubblegum.  His companion began a long explanation about the cause being esters, fermentation byproducts.  As the guy went into an insufferable homebrew chemistry lecture CPW said “the bottom line is I don’t want my beer to taste like bubblegum or my bubblegum to taste like beer even if it’s from the Wrigley and Double Bubble Breweries.”.

7. Telling him the beer I was drinking surprised me by being good since it’s from a brewery with a mediocre reputation, CMW said “Some beers seem good because of all the other crap you’ve had.”  

8. I asked what he thought about the success of the Dry January movement.  The CPW said, “I’m in favor of a dry January, as in no rain and no snow.”

9. One item on the pub’s beer menu was an IPA from a place called Forgotten Boardwalk.  I asked what he thought of their beers. “Forgotten Boardwalk is a great name, but their beer should be forgotten”. I wish I could have done just that since I had one earlier. My stomach is still churring.

10. The Libertine’s beer menu was quite confusing.  Seeing my dilemma, the CPW told me, “When faced with a menu of strange beers it’s best to order one from a brewery on the list that you and the bartender can’t pronounce correctly”. 

11. What’s you favorite beer, I asked the CPW.  He said, “It’s Founders Canadian breakfast Stout. It’s so good that after a glass I would just go home. It’s like a golfer who made a hole in one on the first hole.  Why would he ever want to play the next 17?”

12. Noticing my frantic scribbling of his words, the CPW said “I’m glad you’re taking it down since I don’t listen to a word I say.  God gave me two ears so what I hear can go in one and out the other.” After a short pause he added “We have two ears, we have two eyes, and one mouth. They should be used in that order.”

13. At one point the CPW became quiet and looked to be in deep contemplation He subtly nodded a few times and then whispered, “One of the secrets of life is…an amber beer can only be so good.”

14. Taking a break, I ordered another beer but hated it so I sent it back. The CPW said, “I never do that. If I order a beer a don’t like it, I don’t’ send it back, I just drink it faster.”  I tried it and it works, especially if you hold your nose while chugging.

15. Finally, here is perhaps the most insightful, meaningful, brilliant, and insanely cool thing I heard him say all afternoon: “ It had the…….of course if you….it won’t fail….amazing when done right…….  Oh sorry, that was from the napkin I sneezed into.  Those are the only parts that are legible. Gesundheit.

Over fifty years ago the London Evening Standard published an interview with John Lennon that became an enduring part of the Beatles' legacy. “We're more popular than Jesus now,” he said.  Considering they sold over 183 million records in the US alone, he might have been, in a way, right. Then many years after the group had disbanded their record label released “1 “, a compilation album of the Beatles that featured virtually every number-one single (20) they ever made.  It skyrocketed to the top of the charts and set sales records. When Beatle Paul McCartney was asked about that he said “we always wondered who would be bigger than the Beatles.  Turned out it was the Beatles.” 

I guess the same thing applies here.  The guy I was chatting at the bar with was Richie. All those quotes were from him.  I have always wondered could ever be cooler than Richie.  Turns out it was Richie.

The Perfect Bar 

by Vince Capano

It’s not all about the beer. At least not when you’re trying to find the ideal bar. It’s only all about the beer when sitting in front of the TV to watch the pulse pounding excitement of a grueling grudge battle in Cornhole or indulging yourself with a marathon viewing of all 271 episodes of SpongBob where you can pretend you’re in the Salty Spitoon ("no weenies allowed".).   

The point is that although enjoying good beer is why you go to a bar in the first place it takes much more for it to be truly special. Think about the times you were in a bar that had a great craft lineup, but you left after one or two quick pints.  Maybe you couldn’t put your finger on it, but the place just didn’t feel right.  Was it because no one there talked beer and were all a bunch of boring nerds? Disclaimer: I have to admit that I cannot personally use that reason. Heck, if I had a dollar for every time someone called me a boring nerd I'd have a mean daily income of $5.64 with a standard deviation of $1.25

 Maybe it was because the place ‘s regulars were unfriendly to the point of moving at least 4 stools away from wherever you sat, clearly proving that taking your monthly shower a waste of time.  Perhaps it was because the bar’s rest room made a port- a-john at an oversold beer festival smell like a combination of Chanel No. 5 and Dior J'adore,  with a hint of Pepé Le Pew Eau de Parfum.  Or was it because the bartender had his fingers in your Guinness that he had poured into a Bud Light glass featuring a risqué (but tasteful) picture of Dylan Mulvaney kissing Kid Rock? Then again, it could have been when he tried to convince you the NEIPA he served you was supposed to be grey and taste like roasted carboard.  Just as possible, it just might have been you found the bar’s Special of the Day offer, buy any 2 beers and pay for both of them, a bit too sly.

Of course, to be fair you might simply have had a bad day. Hey, when the worst player on the golf course wanted to play you for money, your twin sister forgot your birthday, and your income tax refund check bounced it’s understandable. The lesson here is you can take life too seriously.  I always take life with a grain of salt……. a slice of lemon and a shot of tequila.

Wait – enough negativity.  This is Beerland.  Things are always positive here.  It’s a land where Coors light tastes like Westvleteren 12 and Double IPAs are always served in English imperial pint glasses, where random pub patrons say “I’m buying a round for the house” whenever you’re there, and all the beers on those countless “best beers of the world” lists are actually available at your local store. And they’re discounted.  So, being the type of person who sees a half glass of beer not as half empty but as halfway to my next round, let me list a few things that make for the ideal bar.  Notice I didn’t say the “perfect bar”.  That’s just about impossible.  The closest to perfection I’ve ever seen is how I filled out my job application form for BeerNexus.

About 77 years ago George Orwell wrote his famous essay the “Moon Under Water”.  While some claim it foretold of flooding of the lunar landscape due to celestial climate change, it was actually about his favorite pub. He listed ten qualities possessed by this amazing place.  Since seven make no sense, here are the three that are left.

It would seem natural that he would put the beer first, but the thing that most appealed to him about the Moon Under Water is what people call its ‘atmosphere’. Orwell believed that an ideal atmosphere was in part due to the bar having a large number of customers who go there for conversation as much as for the beer.  He also enjoyed seeing that a sizable number of ‘regulars’ were there daily and always occupied the same chair. I guess Mr. Orwell was essentially a lonely person who craved company.   He didn’t realize being alone is the only time he’d get to have a conversation with himself without anyone saying he was crazy.

Orwell’s perfect pub was always quiet enough to talk. The place had “neither a radio nor a piano, and even on Christmas Eve and such occasions the singing that happens is of a decorous kind”.  Of course, he wrote that in the years before throngs of spirited customers packed bars to watch the World Cup, Super Bowl, World Series, the Days of Our Lives, and the Price Is Right.  That surely would have changed his mind.

Like many of us, Orwell wanted his beer served in the proper glass, which he said was a trademark of the Moon Under Water.  “They are particular about their drinking vessels” he wrote, “and they never, for example, make the mistake of serving a pint of beer in a handleless glass.” He’s a bit picky here, as I would far prefer a handleless glass to a glassless handle.  

Before we nod in total agreement with Orwell about the correct glass, note that he added “beer tastes better out of china.”  That might be true but only if you were drinking things like  青岛啤酒,  雪花啤酒, or 燕京啤酒. Otherwise, I disagree.

I could go on about the essay, but it’s a fraud.  In a surprise ending Orwell reveals that the Moon Under Water is a fictional place.  I guess it was his attempt to be a Mark Twain (with a touch of Rod Sterling) like humorist,  Unfortunately it only proved that to speak of George Orwell as a comic writer in any way is, in itself, a bad joke. 

Now for the real things that the ideal bar must have. 

It should have great beer, especially the ones I like. And, unfortunately, since there are people who prefer bad beer to good beer, it probably needs to have some of that too.  They should have several cask ales on hand pumps and a coherent (or deliberately incoherent) ambience. The atmosphere should be dark enough that people are comfortable and relaxed, but light enough to see those you want to avoid at all costs. It should have big Happy Hour discounts, knowledgeable, friendly bartenders, beer signs on the wall, and a large parking lot with trees (in case the restrooms are out of order) The bar itself should be circular.  It helps conversation and lets you laugh at what the people across from you have ordered.  There should be a rail along the bottom of the bar to rest your foot on while holding the bar up and so you can hold on to it when you're going to slide off the floor after one too many. 

Oh my – I just described a perfect place I was a regular at – The Tap Room at the Somerset Hills Hotel.   Even more, unlike the Moon Under Water, it’s real.  Sadly, the hotel recently changed ownership and my perfect pub was turned into an upscale martini salon (what a difference one missing little “o” makes).  I gave it a try last week. They had a ten-page menu of martinis and a list of more distilled spirits than you’d find at an Ozark bootleggers convention.  Gentle blue lighting floated over thickly padded bar stools and imitate tables for 2 along the walls. On the bar's back rail were lines of martini glasses filled with ice chilling in preparation for the next customer.  Softly playing in the background, on a never ending loop, was the soothing tones of the song "Moonlight, Martinis and You".

Despite it all I bravely ordered a beer.  The bartender, who wore a badge that read “Master Martiniologist", looked totally confused and befuddled.  He thought for a while, checked a small handbook behind the bar, then asked me, with a most sincere smile, “would you like that shaken or stirred?”

Sigh. Oh well, my ideal beer spot is gone but, on the bright side, I just might have found the perfect martini bar.

Talking Beer 

by Vince Capano

Remember back when beer was just beer?  Not much thought was involved when selecting one.  It was as easy as doing magic tricks for blind people. You could order a Schaefer, a Ballantine, a Schlitz, or a Utica Club and not worry if the bartender made a mistake since they all tasted alike.  It was easy to invoke the no harm no foul rule then knock it down without complaint. Then beer became more involved.  To survive you had to know the difference between a lager and an ale.  It was all new to most folks, me included.  In fact, for a while I believed that beers were made for specific professions.  For example. lagers and porters were made for lumberjacks and bellhops. 

Nowadays picking a beer to order is serious work.  It’s no easy task deciding between things like a high-density, hop-charged IPA with thiolized yeast and a side-pull Czech-style pilsner in a mlíko pour.  For the record, thiolized yeast has the ability to biotransform the thiol precursors found in malt, hops, and grape-derived products into free thiols. I have no idea if the thiols should be free or not.  It’s too political for me. I am however a big fan of “miliko” pours.  It's unlike anything most beer drinkers have ever seen or tasted. It puts the lie to Arnold’s famous quote “Milk is for babies. When you grow up you have to drink beer” since in this case the milk is beer.

Think of a “miliko” pour as a glass filled with 90% foam and 10% beer.  It’s a bar owners’ profit-making dream come true.  Note that it isn’t a traditional “heady pour” that some slick publicans foist upon unaware patrons. Instead, the foam is poured to be sweet and creamy, resembling a glass of milk. These beers are properly poured only from side angle faucets (straight if your head is on the bar from one too many) which force more air into the beer.  The goal behind one of these is to enjoy the dense foam on top. It is usually served in a 10-ounce, cylindrical glass.  Tradition says you should drink it down in one gulp.  Just think of yourself as the little engine that just chugs along.

Since ingredients and styles of beer are ever evolving shouldn’t the way we talk about beer change too?  The gatekeepers of beer vocabulary seem to be the American Homebrewers Association formed in 1978.  Coincidentally (or not so) that was also the year another new word entered our lexicon - spam.  The very first spam email was sent from a marketing manager promoting a new model of computer.  According to that historic message, the computer was made by inmates of a Nigerian prison.  One of the inmates was your cousin who begs you to buy multiple units for his ransom.  It was a day that will live in Internet infamy.  I especially hate spam emails.  I’m a vegetarian.

Perhaps an even bigger influence in how we speak about beer was the writing of beer hunter Michael Jackson.  After penning immense hits like Billie Jean and Beat It he turned his talented pen to writing the “beer bible” in  1984 - World Guide to Beer. It introduced drinkers to the idea of style classification and their descriptors along with many more additions to the vocabulary of beer.  That's important since with a proper beer vocabulary anyone can make their drinking problem seem like a neat hobby.

I "met" Mr. Jackson twice. Once he sat, incognito, across from me at a local pub.  No one approached him either because they didn’t know who he was or the beer stains on his shirt, tie and jacket were a mite off putting.  I’m guessing he just didn’t have time to do any laundry.  Too bad, it would be a load off his mind.  (Sorry, but laundry puns aren’t easy.)  Anyway, it was fair to say that Mr. Jackson was in high spirits (it seems imbibing puns aren’t easy either). 

After a few pints, a somewhat unsteady Mr. Jackson got up and left to prepare for a speaking engagement at a dinner that evening.  It turned out that his preparation consisted of visiting three more pubs before the dinner.  Clearly Mr. Jackson was a believer in Samuel Coleridge’s warning that “those who fail to prepare, are preparing to fail.” 

By the way, the dinner had quickly sold out but fortunately I had purchased a ticket weeks earlier. Mr. Jackson received a warm round of applause when he entered.  He had the same clothes on but I thought I saw two more stains on his jacket.  Then again, considering where I was seated it could have been some dust on my binoculars.  I was however able to clearly see that his head table was immediately given six bottles of beer while my table was given two.  Some in my group were incensed over that inequality.  Not me.  I’m used to being a loser. I once entered a contest for losers and came in second.  Fortunately, that’s not always the case. One time the guys at the gym called me a fat loser. it was really great how they noticed my effort.

In my opinion the best contributor to the language of beer comes from the Beer Judge Certification Program  founded in 1985.  It provides a comprehensive breakdown of styles and their characteristics.  Unlike Mr. Jackson’s wardrobe (and mine) the program is updated periodically with new styles which bring new words.

In addition to those above, the vocabulary we all use to talk about what one sees, smells, tastes and feels in a beer, comes from the wine world.  But although some phrases easily translate from one to the other—this smells fruity, this tastes funky, this feels dry, it’s balanced,  —wine’s jargon is much more esoteric. That’s because – hope you are sitting down for this revelation - beer is not wine!  Beer comes with completely different connotations and backgrounds. And non-snobby drinkers.  Most of the time. And in defense of those few alleged beer snobs, it’s not that they’re hard to please, it’s just that they’re not easily impressed.

Historically, beer has always had a more egalitarian nature than wine.  Oenophiles have made talking about wine so complex that beer, being simple, is actually esoteric.  (To the Editor: please don’t cut that line.  I don’t know what it means either, but it sounds, well, esoteric.) For example, saying a beer is  “hoppy” is insufficient in today’s Beerland.  It simply doesn’t capture how many shades of “hoppy” actually exist now.  Back in the day when West Coast IPAs dominated you could just call it “hoppy” and people understood. Now, we have New England and hazy IPAs, Belgian IPAs, cold IPAs, session IPAs, and more that are far removed from the style’s traditionally bitter/piney/resinous profile. The dominant hop taste for IPAs right now is fruity, extremely fruity.  So, if you said ‘hoppy’ today, it almost means the opposite of what it did 10 years ago.  It’s enough to make me feel like I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe.

Not only do we now need more words to describe how categories have expanded and evolved, we have to deal with recently coined slang terms like gushers, freshies, Crispy Boi, Iceman pour, ISO, shelf turd, and white whales.  Stop the madness!  Why can’t things be like they were?  Think back to the smoky bar packed with a typical after-work crowd. Drinking. Chatting. Big lapels and even bigger glasses, and a Happy Hour that magically lasted at least 120 minutes.  And a guy near the end of the bar, tried from a day at work, hair unkempt, dark tie loosened, his pointed collars sticking out of his tad too-small suit jacket, holding up a stubby bottle of beer and saying, “give me another good drinkin’ beer”. 

No other words were needed.  We all knew exactly what he meant.

Who is The Dirty Lout? by Vince Capano

Like bread, cookies, avocados, and watching another Adam Sandler movie, beer can get stale.  Of course, drinking old beer really isn't dangerous except to your palate and in some cases, your mental health, with the telltale symptom being you get into a fight when cheating at solitaire.

All of which begs the question: why drink old beer at all? Fresh is always good.  Stale is always bad.  Those are the facts.  However, quite a few beer retailers, distributors and breweries don’t seem to know that.  It’s not that the idea "fresh is better" is some long hidden fact like, for example, what’s the real secret to a long life (answer: being born as a giant tortoise) so what’s going on?  Why are so many out-of-date beers or ones without canning information on store shelves and whose fault is it?

Just last week I went to a beer shop in a supermarket chain store I’m not going to name.  Ok, you talked me into it – Wegmans.  I found multiple 4 packs of craft IPAs dated November of 2021 or earlier.  Fortunately, I was able to see through the layers of dust on them.  I guess management saw the dust as a protective coating to keep the beer fresh. I contemplated instant vigilante justice but couldn’t decide which low-down dirty lout was truly responsible for such a flim-flam.

Logic seems to say that breweries are ultimately responsible for the freshness of their beer. regardless of how far away it is from the site of origin or how long ago it left them.  After all, their name is on the can. Which by the way makes a fine target when spitting all that stale beer out.  You can get double points for a bullseye on the brewery logo.  

The brewers obviously know that the instant they bottle/can their beer it begins to get old.  Beer is just like any other food. It’s made from plant-based raw materials which naturally decay over time. Like people. No matter what extra steps brewers take to prevent beer from spoiling, there is nothing they can do to stop the natural growth of bacteria and chemical reactions as time passes.  The reason for that is oxidation.  I don’t really care about the chemistry of that process, but I do care about the awful flavors of wet newspaper and carboard that oxidation causes.  There are, however, some beer critics who enjoy that taste.  They especially laud the flavor of rain drenched New York Times (the Sunday edition is alleged to have extra zip) while others favor tantalizing damp Amazon boxes (which is also the answer to the question “what is the number one item Amazon ships?”)

Do you realize that every time you pick up beer from the store, it has already been sold twice before? And unlike a secondhand store, that doesn’t make it cheaper; it makes it more expensive. That's because in the US, we have a system that includes a mostly hidden middleman who neither makes the beer nor sells it to consumers yet gets an ample cut of the beer money pie.  In fact, many states prohibit breweries from selling their products directly to retailers and restaurants.  They must sell to a wholesaler.  Saying it’s an outdated system that needs change is a painful elaboration of the obvious.

The three players in this chain of beer sales (brewer, distributor, retailer) are each independent, and each buys the beer from the former. I’m guessing the creators of this three-tiered system hoped these groups would function efficiently as a team of sorts.  In dealing with stale beer however, their teamwork mainly helps them each put the blame on the other guy.

The distributor bears responsibility for the beer once it leaves the brewery (unless the beer itself has quality issues, for example, it tastes like Haggis mixed with Casu marzu in a Jell-O salad). They then will set the price of the beer and make sales to retailers.  Because of that, the distributor is legally responsible for returning to stores and picking up “out-of-code” (old) beer.  Oftentimes, however, they just don’t get around to removing all those grubby, geriatric cans.  In their defense, that requires a lot of work.  They probably believe hard work can kill a person, so they just don’t want to take the chance.  That’s not the case here at BeerNexus.  We believe hard work leads to success. Just last week my boss arrived here in a brand-new Lamborghini and in his best pep talk voice said to the assembled staff writers, “If you all work hard, put all your hours in, and strive for excellence, I’ll get another one next year.”

While breweries and distributors may be very involved in pulling old beer, it’s ultimately, in my opinion, the responsibility of the retailer to keep tabs on his inventory.  Unfortunately, many of them choose to deal with it by simply pawning stale beer off to naïve, uninformed customers.  I'm sure they get an extra chuckle when they see someone in the single can section.  In most stores it’s a treasure chest of really old beer with a bonus of having the witless consumer pay a premium price. Think of it as the beer store’s version of boardwalk fun games.  It’s their Milk Bottle Pyramid, Ring Toss, and Basketball Shoot.  The next time you win at one of those games will also be the day that supermarkets put the best deals on the middle shelves, the Fast & Furious movie series comes to an end, and you find a pot-a-john you really want to use.

Making things worse, retailers often leave old beer on the store’s floor to bask in room temperature. That temperature is a major threat to fresh craft beer and the icing on the cake for the stale ones. There, thanks to warm environment, all the chemical reactions that degrade a fresh beer into a flabby, faded liquid are accelerated faster than a toupee in a hurricane. Anything above about 40 -45 degrees is putting beer at risk. 

 It’s always preferable to buy beer out of a cooler though that’s no guarantee of anything except possible frostbite on your hand.   Many a retailer will actually put old beer in a cooler figuring foolish people would think it’s fresh if it’s cold.  I don’t need them to make a fool out of me.  I’m the do it yourself type.

If / when out of code beer is pulled, the lingering question is what happens to it.  Often it is sold to staff way below wholesale prices. In some cases, it’s given away to employees.  Nothing makes a beer taste better than to have the word “free” attached to it.  Sometimes it is simply destroyed.  Rumor has it that one brewery took it back, removed the label, put a new one on, then sold it again.  I've also heard claims the a few distributors resell it as a “Vintage Collectors’ Special Release”.  I prefer to think that all those poor, unwanted, unloved cans wake up in beer heaven as  bottles of Bourbon County Stout, Pliny, Westvleteren Abt 12, and Cantillon Loerik.

For those with a practical bent, stale beer can do some amazing things.  It can be used as a cleaner on wooden furniture, copper/cast iron cookware, and carpet stains. I did try it once on a carpet's beer stain.  The stain instantly got bigger.  It can remove rust from tools, make a good marinade, serve as a “Beer Pedicure” (the yeast will soften calluses and acts as a natural antiseptic for your skin), and even put a glow in your hair (if you don’t care what you smell like).

We’ve looked at the usual suspects but one more surely deserved to be added to this infamous list of perpetrators of stale beer.  That is the consumer who continues to buy it. Those who are ignorant and apathetic (they don’t know and don’t care) about a beer’s age only encourage the brewer, distributor, and retailer to continue selling us this stuff.  To paraphrase Pogo possum and Commander Perry (a dubious duo for sure), we have met the enemy of fresh beer and he is us.  

Be part of the solution, not the problem.  There are only two important rules to follow in life-

1.        If the can/bottle has no date (or an old one) don’t buy it.

2.       Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

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Brewery Math  by Vince Capano

Most folks think that 2+2= 4 though some literary types might quote the line from the book 1984 by George Orwell: “Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make five.” Well, it seems George must have been a brewer since some breweries have embraced the freedom to say that you simply can’t add two plus two, but one plus one plus one plus one is okay.  It’s the new brewery math. It applies to their serving of small pours (usually 4 ounces) of different beers in cutesy glasses nestled in a wooden tray of some sort. It’s a beer flight. And no that’s not the same as having a beer on a flight.

By the way, having a beer on a flight can be a questionable pursuit since the air pressure in a cabin along with its dryness can make specific notes overpower other flavors and might cause excessive foaming.  I prefer to have my beers preflight though that too can have its drawbacks.  I recall one time while having a few pints as a buddy and I waited for a flight at Helsinki Airport. Then, without warning, he disappeared into Fin-air.  

Over the last month or so I’ve visited three breweries with signs next to the taps that issued a warning to customers:  NO FLIGHTS!  Under that, one of the places had a sign, in smaller print, that said “actually we would but only if you gave us a million bucks.” At least they were honest. Being a smart drinker – Yoda texts me for advice – I quickly figured out how to beat the no flight rule. 

At one place I asked for 4 ounce pours of 4 different beers.  The beertender dutifully filled four glasses and handed them to me. It seems if you don’t ask for a paddle/tray to hold the beer it’s not a flight. Those beers tasted extra good since I had easily beaten the system.  It ranked with the time I went to the bank and asked to withdraw $10.  The annoyed teller said for that amount I had to use an ATM.  I then asked to withdraw a thousand dollars in $10 bills. When she handed them to me I took one, then gave her the rest saying, “please deposit this.”  I was told my picture was on an inner office wall for 5 months as “jackass #1”.

At the second brewery I once again asked for a standard flight - 4 four ounce pours of four different beers.  The beertender said” I can only serve you two at time”. I replied, “I don’t get it.”.  He said, “you’re right, you don’t get 4 glasses.”  Proving my 7 years at Whatsamatter U. (on a partial Parchisi scholarship) weren’t wasted, I said “I’ll take two and come right back for two more”. The beertender nodded approvingly.  He had just saved the world from Beer Armageddon.

The third brewery deftly handled my defiance of their no flight policy by the server saying “we don’t do flights, but we can serve you as many single 4 once pours as you want.” I asked, quite sincerely, “wouldn't four individual 4 ounce pours be the same as a flight?” He shook his head and slowly, very slowly, repeated with a twinge of condescension, “we don’t do flights”. Ah, now that he explained it I understand.

It all reminded me of being at a brewery comedy show starring Zane Lamprey (of the Three Sheets TV show). During a break I walked over to a serving station and asked for a pint of the house’s Russian Imperial Stout.  The beertender said “that only comes in an 8 ounce pour because of its high ABV".  After he poured 8 ounces into a plastic 16 ounce cup, I asked for another glass of the same.  As he started to reach for the cup I stopped him and said, “I might spill one of the glasses on my way back to my seat.  Just put those 8 ounces on top of the other one.”  Without missing a beat, he did just that, saying with a sly grin, “according to the boss two eights don’t make 16”.  That’s the kind of brewery math I like.

So what’s with all of the anti-flight stuff on the part of breweries and even some drinkers?.  Their main arguments seem to be that:

1.   You can’t properly evaluate a beer on a 4 oz. pour. Maybe that’s true, but it assumes that the goal of drinking a flight is to make a definitive assessment of each beer. Most flight fans simply want to get a taste of the beers to help decide which to get a full glass of.  A 4oz. taster is more than enough beer to know if you dislike something.  Hey, people have decided they disliked me in under 10 seconds, so I don’t see the problem. 

2.   Flights reinforce a bad part of craft beer culture that is too focused on trying as many different beers as possible.  This lament says the reason you buy a flight is to check in 4 new beers on Untappd instead of just one.  Maybe BeerNexus should market a ‘Not On Untapped” identity card for those who want flights. Don’t worry, we won’t check.  It will be our version of those “Are You Over 21?” entry barriers on beer websites.  If they ask for a birthday date I always put 1/1/1111.  I look good for my age.

3.  “Ordering a flight at a packed bar slows down service for everyone.” Can’t argue that it takes a server longer to pour a flight vs. a single beer, but why would anyone get very upset over it? People rush too much these days. I prefer a more leisurely pace in life. Just last Sunday it took me 2 hours to watch 60 Minutes.   

4.       Pouring flights is too much work as is cleaning and organizing all those glasses.  Ah,….that’s why it’s called work. These complainers are so lazy if they won a laziness contest, they’d send someone to pick up the trophy. And let’s be honest, filling and washing glasses isn’t that difficult and besides, it’s a way to get some good exercise. Here at the BeerNexus office we like to get some exercise too: jumping to conclusions, pushing our luck, and dodging deadlines.

It’s hard to believe that brewery owners don’t understand that serving flights puts extra money in their pocket. In the majority of establishments, ordering a beer flight isn’t like ordering food at P.F. Chang’s, you don’t get more for your dollar when you order a variety. I understand that a flight means more labor, more glassware, more spillage, more everything so a slightly higher price is perhaps warranted, However some places use that justification to price gouge.  To see if that’s happening simply figure out the cost per ounce of your beer in a pint and then in a flight. Just don’t use brewery math to do it.  And don't do it after drinking.  You should never drink and derive.

Reasons why beer flights are great:

1. They allow you to taste a variety of beers in one sitting. Breweries are making new beers at a crazy pace these days, and it is almost impossible to try them all. That’s “almost”, but it’s doable.  And imagine the fun of ordering multiple flights by proudly shouting out: “I’ll have one of everything!”

2. Small pours mean less alcohol. The majority of breweries are nowhere close to mass transit so you’ll be driving there. Drinking a flight or two will keep you from over consumption. Having a flight means you can sample an array of offerings while having a safe and responsible ride home. You don’t want to be the guy who says, “take me drunk, I’m home”.

3. You can try styles that are typically outside of your comfort zone. Afraid of drinking a sour, gose, or rauchbier ?  Even if there’s zero chance you will ever order a full pour of a certain style, having one in a flight is a great opportunity to expand your palate and learn about beer.  Learn enough and you'll realize beer is never the answer. It’s the question. “Yes” is the answer.

Lastly, if you really want to try a variety of beers before committing to one and the place doesn’t do flights just ask the bartender for a sip of a couple of beers on draft. He’ll most likely just give it to you and it’s usually free. Then order a pint of your favorite and you’re on the way to being a real beer enthusiast. And no matter what kind of math you use, the more beer you drink, the more enthusiastic you’ll get!

Bitter Is Better by Vince Capano

Think back to the early days of craft beer. Daring and resourceful brewers from the mountains to the plains led the fight for real taste against the purveyors of watery, yellow liquid, riding to battle with the fearsome lance of West Coast IPAs slashing through the enemy’s ranks.  Take courage and hope from those halcyon days of yesteryear as now real IPA rises again to ride in combat against the onslaught of the jaded juice boys from New England.   

Even the most ardent supporter of the New England IPAs’ juicy beer juggernaut cannot deny that the American craft beer revolution and the motivating force behind the consumer demand for it was the IPA.  It was widely introduced to the American drinking public through craft icons such as Anchor, Stone  and Sierra Nevada.  They gave us what now is called West Coast IPA.  It was so named probably because “beer” was already taken.  It also went/goes by the name American IPA, most likely because Red, White, and Blue was already taken.  That patriotic named beer was originally produced by Pabst and cost about 30 % less than inexpensive PBR.  It was their limbo pricing policy – how low can you go. In fact, Red, White, & Blue was touted as a bulwark against rising prices back in the day.  It’s not unlike the current lament about inflation.  Admittedly I’m not an economist, but I just don’t understand why people are complaining about price increases.  Only yesterday I went to get $10 of gas and it still cost exactly $10.

The bottom line is that, outside of Vermont, there was a singular definition for an IPA. It should be intensely bitter. Piney. Resinous. Clear. Dank. Delicious.  Then somehow it fell out of vogue over the past decade in breweries, beer shops, and bars.  It’s as if beer drinkers were suddenly all hypnotized.  Fortunately, I was able to resist. I knew I had the will power to do so ever since the time a hypnotist unsuccessfully tried to convince me I was a soft, malleable metal with an atomic number of 82......you see, I'm not easily lead.

To be honest, at one time I too had fallen in love with the New England IPA style as much as anyone. It only took one sip of the pioneering Heady Topper from The Alchemist brewery to do the trick.  Using hops, like Centennial, Cascade, Mosaic and El Dorado, it introduced an entirely new flavor profile for IPAs that brought a massive balm of vivid flavors and aromas without any hop bitterness.  It was an approach to  brewing from the philosophical school that says if life is bitter soothing beer is better.  I prefer the viewpoint that if the beer is bitter life is better.

Cloudy New England IPA’s influence radiated across the country, gaining footholds on the East Coast first, then gradually being adopted everywhere.  Surprisingly that all happened despite Heady Topper’s can asking consumers to drink from it and not use a glass.  Actually, they’re a bit more forceful than politely just asking.  “Drink From The Can” screams at you in boldly printed large black letters around the upper part of the can, clearly implying that civil penalties or at least a severe beat down from enraged Heady fans awaits those who don’t follow directions.

It’s a good thing management at BeerNexus didn’t use Heady when I came for a job interview.  It started it off by the boss giving me a can of beer.  I passed this first test by immediately opening it. Then, acting instinctively, I poured it into a glass. Trying to impress, I poured too quickly, and it overflowed onto the table. The interviewer asked if I was nervous. I said “no - I always give everything I do 110%.”  I was hired on the spot.

The Alchemist’s official reason (on their website) for drinking from the can is it “helps retain the beer’s integrity. If you pour Heady Topper into a glass, you're inundating the beer with oxygen, which will quickly degrade the flavor.”  The real reason, especially in an era when all beer was expected to be bright (clear), is that if people ever saw it in a glass the cloudy liquid filled with unknown flotsam and jetsam would make them think it was brewed with water from Cleveland’s Cuyahoga River.  Yes, that’s the river infamous for having burned. Really. The only good thing about that bizarre incident was that it led to the establishment of the first Earth Day and a more intense focus on environmentalism.  In support of that, I’ve decided to lower my own carbon footprint.  I’m going to drive everywhere.

Once Heady opened the floodgates New England IPA’s engulfed the marketplace to meet an ever growing demand. It was hard for consumers not to be charmed by the style’s easygoing disposition, fruit-forward flavors, lack of bitterness and juicy flavor profile.  Every brewery knew it and smelled the pot of gold at the end of their bottom line.  In the other camp, the bracing bitterness, flavor and alcohol content of the West Coast versions made them too challenging for the huge influx of younger people moving to craft beers.   It seems that millennials and Gen Z folks prefer their orange, mango, peach, and tropical fruit salad in the form of beer, probably because it pairs will with their avocado toast.

West Coast IPAs drink with a classic bitterness, balanced by an earthy flavor profile, characteristic of hops from Washington and Oregon. We’re talking American hops—historically Pacific Northwest ones such as Cascade, Centennial, Columbus, and Chinook, among others.  NEIPAs get most of their flavor by dry hopping — adding hops late in the brewing process most often in the fermentation tanks. This technique imparts lots of soft, fruity flavors, but it’s delicate, fragile and disappears faster than a Mexican magician who says he will vanish on the count of 3 -"uno, dos..." *poof*. He disappears without a tres. 

The demand for juicy, hazy styles remains strong as ever, however there is evidence consumers are rediscovering their love for bitter, clear, crisp IPAs as sales are increasing.  That has led some devious brewers to hedge their bets by bringing out pretend versions, fallaciously labeling their beer “West Coast Style IPA” .  These frauds have a barely noticeable bitterness while featuring the usual soft, gentle fruit flavors thanks to loads of trendy hops, like Strata, El Dorado, Motueka, and Nelson Sauvin that impart scents and flavors of things like strawberry, tangerine, gooseberry, and passionfruit.  If you were lured by misnomers like that or “the new-school expression of the West Coast IPA” and bought the beer it would be like getting to ride a Ferrari with an empty gas tank.

For fans of NEIPAs who won’t mind being converted, I challenge them to try a blind test of representative beers from each camp. I predict that beers they found refreshing and charming a few years earlier now seem increasingly rote and uninspired.  Why? They’re all chasing after a very similar, narrowly defined juicy ideal. It seems brewers are bringing you IPAs created for maximum juice often ending with ones that taste like kelp smoothies featuring sludgy plant matter in a 16 oz can - the best part of which is likely the artwork on the outside.

With so many juicy/NEIPAs out there it stands to reason that a significant percentage simply aren’t that good.  For every Tree House, Trillium, Alchemist, or Russian River there are scores cranking out mediocre to downright bad stuff.  Just being cloudy is not indicator of quality.  I’m guessing they sell well because some drinkers think that the taste of diacetyl, oxidation, contamination, or multiple other flaws are part of the craft beer experience.  They’re the type of characters who believe Einstein wasn’t a real person once they read he was just a theoretical physicist.

Despite the burgeoning West Coast IPA comeback, they’re still hard to find in many beer shops. Yesterday I went to my local establishment and was struggling to find one when an employee asked me if I needed help.  Usually, I answer with a polite no, the same answer I give when  lost and someone asks if I need directions.  But then, in a moment of embarrassing weakness, I mumbled, “yes, I'm looking for a fresh, West Coast IPA.”  

He said, "no problem, we’ve got a lot of really good super juicy ones made in California."

Some people just don't get it.

BEER MADNESS by Vince Capano

It's madness, madness, I tell you!  So do not proceed recklessly, read this responsibly.  After all, it’s about beer. And madness.  Not as in getting mad when you don’t have beer, but as in March Madness. It’s the NCAA basketball Tournament brackets but with beer.  And if you play with sloppy drinkers, just like basketball, it could get messy – too much dribbling.

The actual March Madness is one of the most anticipated and watched events in all of sports.  It’s also one of the most wagered on, especially in pools, by millions of folks, including hippotherapists, dice quality inspectors, feng shui consultants, fortune cookie writers, CIA analysts, full-time Netflix viewers, light house bulb changers, and Port-A-Potty cleaners.  Just about anyone who ever bounced a ball seems to get involved. That goes double if they threw it at a peach basket.  The lure or course is you can win money; the downside is that, as in most betting, you’re much more likely to lose it. With legal gambling, now you can bet on just about anything, not just basketball. Yesterday I wagered on a giraffe race. Mine came in second. Lost by a neck. It wasn’t even close.  The big difference between those types of wagers and Beer March Madness is that there, everyone wins since you drink beer.  Lots of beer.

The real March Madness pools are all about the “brackets”.  A bracket is the grid of all the teams in the tournament and the path they must follow to the Final Four and the championship game. To win the pool all you have to do is pick the most victors in each of the 68 matches.  Since each section of a bracket is only one game you have a 50—50 shot to be correct making it incredibly easy…….to get everyone wrong.  It’s about as hard as running into a Polar bear in Africa or finding out what you get when you cross a joke with a rhetorical question.  

My beer club has had an annual Beer Madness meeting for well over a decade however we’re not doing it this year.  I’m not sure why but I believe there’s is conspiracy behind it all.  I’m starting to think more than a couple of covert neo-prohibitionists have infiltrated our group and vetoed it.  And no, I’ve never had paranoid delusions. I admit that a few people have told me I did, but I know they’re lying. 

Beer Madness matches one beer against another in a bracket format until a champion is eventually crowned.  Anyone who shows up gets to judge.  No certification or Cicerone diploma is needed.  That’s not a bad thing sine those folks don’t really like beer anyway.  It’s one person, one vote. After all, voting is democracy in action. Not voting is democracy inaction.

It takes a lot of beer to run a proper tournament.  Since you don’t know which beer will progress through all the brackets you have to buy enough so that regardless of which one wins, you’ll have enough as it moves on through all the rounds.  To save money (and our livers), we always cut the starting field down to 34.  That means we have to buy at least 4 pint cans or a 12 oz. six pack of 34 different beers.  For authenticity we try to get them from breweries in the state the real tournament teams are actually from. That is not easy.   Eventually we were forced to use a broader area.  We found that east or west of the Hudson River worked best. 

Picking the winners in each round was done by a blind tasting. For the first round the club members –20 the last time - were divided into four equal groups (tables) with each getting different beers.  Each person would then get a three - four ounce pour of unknown beers and rate them.  Sometimes it was easy, sometime not. There was often a polite, mannerly debate about differing opinions.  The resulting cursing, pushing, shoving, screaming, and pretzel throwing all were done in the friendliest manner and in the best of taste.

Computing the beer ratings at each table proved a challenge on occasion.  That is unless you had a math PhD from Stanford who worked on Wall Street in your group.  One of those was at the table next to mine last year, so I was able to hear him.  Some might say he was a bit boastful, if not downright arrogant.  I personally think there was no need for him to brag about his financial skills, as he told everyone “my credit card company calls me almost every day to say my balance is outstanding.”   

He quickly became the bane of the table as he argued not only every rating (once saying "this rating was done by an idiot" until he realized it his) but also the computation of the beer’s final totals.  At one point during the computations he took out graph paper.  Everyone suspected he was plotting something.  His charts propelled him into a tortuous, baffling explanation of basic division. I now think his PhD stood for Pizza Hut Deliveryman.

Seeding is important in the real NCAA tournament.  It is a reward for having a good record against strong opponents and should give you an easier path to the finals.  Knowing that, many people simply bet on the higher seeded team.  However, they don't always win so as a public service, here are four tips to help you succeed in the real NCAA bracket pool this year:

1.  Base your pick on which team’s mascot would win in a real-life fight.  For example, if Michigan State’s  Sparky the Spartan duels Syracuse’s Otto the Orange, who would win?  Come on, it’s an orange.

2.  Simply put the team names in a hat and pick one out.  That will be the winner.  One year I pulled out 7 ¾.  Unfortunately XL won it all.

3.  Go with the team with the better uniforms.  Fashion counts in hoops, though usually not with me.  It just goes in one year and out the other.

4.  Take your pick from options like the team name with most consecutive consonants, fewest letters, alphabetical order, whichever has the most letters that also appear in your own name.  And definitely bet the house on any name that rhymes with beer.

No need to thank me, though a share of your winnings would be appreciated.

In Beer Madness entrants are seeded based on the beer’s average scores on RateBeer and Beer Advocate.  If the beer didn’t have a score or the guy doing it got tired, it was just made up.  It’s much more efficient that way. “Efficiency. Efficiency. Efficiency” is my mantra….ah, cross out two of those.

After the first round, everyone tastes the same beer.  That makes voting easier.  Instead of a rating it’s a simple show of hands.  Needless to say there’s always a few people who don't vote either way.  I can only assume they believe the beers were equal so couldn’t pick a winner or were waiting for someone with telekinesis to raise their hand. 

The final championship round is always a cliffhanger.  Not because of the tension over the outcome, but because there might not be enough of those beers left to pour for everyone.  One year we almost ran out and had to blend them with a loser beer from an earlier round.  No one seemed to notice.  It’s the magic of tasting 33 beers before then.

Each year the club’s secretary sends an email out to the winning brewery telling them of their glorious victory and extending our sincere congratulations.  I know it’s a nice thing to do but the truth is we’re hoping they’d celebrate by sending us a case of their champion brew.  We always send the exact same email to all of the participating breweries since clearly 34 free cases beats one free case. As of now, the total of cases received over the years is …………..zero.   

If you ask me, they're all a bunch of sore winners.

How Dry I Am

by Vince Capano

It’s fair to cheer Massachusetts for Trillium, Tree House, Jack’s Abby, Vitamin Sea, and Boston Beer breweries among others but  make that cheer a Bronx one for their passing of a temperance law banning the sale of spirits in less than 15-gallon quantities.  Admittedly that was back in 1838 but I can hold a grudge for a long time. Several states followed their example and by 1906, a new wave of national attacks began on the sale of liquor, led by the Anti-Saloon League. That group's members all had one thing in common – when they woke up in the morning that was as good as they were going to feel all day.

The League’s activities eventually led to Congress passing the 18th Amendment, (booing here not required but strongly suggested) which banned the manufacture, transportation, and sale of intoxicating liquors (yes, that means beer too).  From 1919 to 1933 that was the law of the land.  Now in 2023 there’s another movement afoot that echoes the spirit of those villainous prohibitionists – it’s the call for a Dry January.

 Beware – give them one month and they’ll want 11 more.  

The blame for this goes to Great Britain. In 2011 Londoner Emily Robinson ditched booze while training for a half-marathon and touted her choice in every media venue possible.  Don’t ask me just who would find that of interest.  I guess they’re the same boring people that if someone stole their identity, they’d give it back.  Then, in 2013 she along with  her employer, Alcohol Concern (guess what they’re against), held their first Dry January campaign. The next year they trademarked the term, and that's when it officially became a thing as bloggers, social media, and do-gooders hopped on board, trying to make it into a health necessity.  It makes one long for the days of other more preferable health movements like juice cleanses. fat melting creams, magnet copper bracelets, vibrating belt machines, the Fletcher Method (chewing food 100 times a minute before swallowing), and the wonderous cotton ball weight loss diet (soaking cotton balls in orange juice then eating them to fill up one’s stomach.)

And despite her alcohol abstinence, there is no record of Ms. Robinson having completed that half marathon though, in her defense, they did stop counting finishers after eight days.

This new year, 2023, marks the 10th anniversary of that first Dry January campaign.  The official Dry January LLC says they have corporate partners in Switzerland, Germany, Norway, France, and the US.  That may seem impressive but remember The Mickey Mouse Club has members in over 100 counties, The Fans of Svengoolie have chapters in 44 states, and beer drinkers are numbered in the billions, give or take a few hundred million.  That’s called putting things in perspective, sort of like an allergy sufferer who says, “springtime always takes my breath away” or the lobsters in the kitchen of the Titanic thinking its sinking was a miracle.

Some say that taking a break from beer can trigger immediate health benefits, like increased strength, better sleep, improved concentration, mood, and energy boosts.  One study cited statistics that purported to show that people who gave up alcohol for a month also had significant improvements in their metabolic health. Even more, they lost over four pounds on average and their blood pressure dropped.  The statistics were published in The Journal of Irreproducible Results and the Annals of Improbable Research. Those publications had become famous for cutting edge research on the perils of pickles, asserting that “99.9 percent of all people who get Covid have eaten pickles” and that “99.7 percent of the people involved in auto accidents ate pickles within 14 days preceding the accident.” Their highly touted conclusion was endorsed by leading scientists around the world: “Eat orchid petal soup. Practically no one has any problems from it.” 

Interestingly, there are also many studies with equally convincing statistics that prove moderate drinking confers incredibly positive benefits – in the same categories used in the anti- drinking ones.  All I can say is that if I ever give up writing this column, I’m going to become a research statistician.  They have much larger landscape for using imagination.

All this begs the question, why pick January as the month to go dry. Maybe some see it as punishment for the “indulgence” of the December holidays.  This way, they  won’t make any pour decisions (sorry) in the new year. Then again, many may see January as perfect time to prepare one’s liver for the bacchanalian hijinks of February’s flagship holiday - Ground Hog Day. More likely, it’s because January is simply the month for resolutions.  My main resolution this year was to drop my bad habits.  I eventually decided not to do it. No one likes a quitter. 

Dry January is filled with buzzwords like wellness and mindfulness but it’s really the analog to binge drinking—binge-sobering.  It’s for people who like doing things in extremes; they don’t have the wherewithal to drink in moderation.  I used to always drink beer in Moderation.  However, when it closed, I had to find a new place.  And for regular readers, yes, that’s the 97th time I’ve used that joke.

On the plus side, if you embrace Dry January, you can legitimately bail on long-made plans for the month to places you really didn’t want to go by saying that the sight of an IPA, martini, or merlot will make you crumble.  Hey,that would have been a great excuse for me to get out of going to my dentist, Dr. Cuthbert J. Twillie, last month.  I don’t like going there despite the fact he always has a beer ready for me to calm my extreme nervousness.  One time we even split a can.  When I asked, “are you sure you should be drinking?  What about your next patient.”  With a wickedly sly smile he said, “No problem. it’s you”.   

If you are seriously thinking of cutting back most experts don’t recommend going the cold turkey Dry January route.  They suggest a more gradual approach.  For example, if you usually have two beers while cooking dinner on Thursday, try putting one in the food.  Or instead of drinking several beers with dinner have some as an appetizer and the rest for dessert.  If you normally go out and drink a lot on Saturday night, try splitting the total into afternoon and evening sessions.  That’s should satisfy the most ardent Dry Jannista.

This may come as a shock but let me say in my most non- judgmental voice, Dry January is not for me. Having a beer now and then is fun. And relaxing. And good for my health. It wasn’t easy but I found a study that said drinking beer makes you smile more, can help you solve creative problems faster, lowers your risk of heart disease, and increases longevity. However, that’s only if you drink several beers each day, 12 months a year. 

I’m a firm believer in following the science.

A few of the harsher critics of Dry January say that any idiot can stop drinking for four weeks when they can count down the days from 31 to zero.  Knowing a zero is coming is what makes it possible.  I’m sure it helps but it’s still hard to do.  I say that from experience. For the sake of transparency, I admit to not drinking any beer (or other alcohol) for the first part of January.  The fact that I was sick and on medication was beside the point.  Actually, I did feel good after my beer hiatus.  That led me to totally quit drinking the stuff. 

 It was the toughest five minutes of my life.

Prognostications 

by Vince Capano

It took a while, 395 days at least, but 2022 is finally over.  The highlight of the year for me was drinking two Double IPAs from Two Brothers Brewing on 2/22/22 at 2 PM and paying for it with a bunch of two dollar bills.  Knowing a good thing when I see one, I then bet $22.22 on horse #2 to place in the second race at 200-1 odds at Saratoga.  He finished second…...to last.  It was that kind of year. 

My innate optimism, however, remains undiminished. I’m not the kind of optimist who brings a book to read for an eye dilation test.  I lean a bit to the more practical side.  When some see a half-filled glass as being half empty and others see it as half full, all I want to know is what kind of beer is in it.  Maybe that will help put into perspective what I foresee as happening to beer in 2023. 

I normally divine my predictions for the new year by gazing into a glass of IPA, but since they’re all so cloudy now I’m going with a pint of Budwiser Zero.  First off, it’s as clear (and tasty) as water., and secondly, I won’t be tempted to drink it before my ESP powers fade.   Here are a few of the things I saw in the glass.

Say it ain’t so, but craft beer prices will continue to rise in the new year despite moves by the Fed to control the money supply.   Import prices will skyrocket too causing many Corona drinkers to sneak across the border into Mexico.  Many elite breweries will charge more for a 4 pack than it costs for gas to fill up their car to take their huge profits to the bank.  Slicker breweries will avoid raising prices by only filling their 16-ounce cans with 11.2 ounces of liquid.  Savvy drinkers will quickly decry this as shrinkflation saying it’s gaslighting at its best.  Some breweries will feign sympathy with the protestors and counter by following P.T. Barnum’s advice.  They’ll start putting a full one third of a liter of beer in their pint cans.  The public will applaud them for their selfless stand against inflation.

The stream of people turning to low alcohol beers will become a tidal wave.  Breweries across the country will feature an array of beer below the typical 4 percent floor for light lagers. (Bud Light is 4.2 percent.).  Citing extensive studies that shockingly reveal that a 45-year-old liver is not the same as a 25-year-old liver, radical Millennials will demand a federal law forbidding the manufacture of any beer above 0.0% ABV.  The proposed law will be quickly endorsed by Al Capone III and multiple affiliated groups.  Mr. Capone III will eventually earn a fortune by selling t-shirts with a quote from his grandfather – “Zero alcohol beer is better than no beer at all”.  The reverse side will have another senior Capone quote: “you can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone.” After the law’s passage, Mr. Capone III’s pitch on Shark Tank for a home brewing supply company will be a big success.

IPAs will no longer be the top selling beer style.  It will take a precipitous fall along with pale ales, stouts, porters, pilsners, brown, and wheat ales.  Sales of imports from Belgium, Germany, Mexico, and Netherlands will also tank. The nations of Nauru, Tuval, San Marino, and Liechtenstein will become the new top beer exporting nations in the world thanks to a booming fad for Grodziskie, Chicha, Gruit, Dampfbier, and Loppenbier which they specialize in.  That in turn will lead to a worldwide shortage of maps as people clamor to go there for beercations but have no idea where those countries are.

Brewery tasting rooms are now more than just places to enjoy fresh beer. They are family and community centers.  They allow children of all ages along with pets including dogs, cats, the occasional elephant, and goldfish. You can bring in your own food.  There are live bands, contests, big screen TVs, and for the really bored, board games.  However, with over 9,500 breweries in the country competition will force them to add even more services including morning and afternoon baby-sitting personally provided by the brewers.  Eschewing sand, hop-boxes will be provided for kids to play in.  Citra and Cascade will prove the most popular for the youngest set, while Chinook and Nelson Sauvin will be favorites of the 4 to 5 year olds.  Time will be set aside for education including learning the alphabet, counting to 10, and basic brewing techniques.

Remember things like Mamma Mia’s Pizza Beer, crafted from pizza crusts, a beer made from yeast found in an Oregon brewer’s beard, and a one made from a part of a bull you’d never eat out of choice?  While those gimmick brews brought queasy stomachs and occasional upchucks, medical science will be turning the tables by creating a tasty vaccine beer.  The National Institute of Health will release their first beer which uses the newly created Nocovid hop.  The beer is described as a “hazy, sophisticated brew with flavors of mango, passion fruit, and Vicks Formula 44”.  They are also planning to release a second beer, this time in collaboration with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.  It will contain antidotes for Acquired Metastructural Pediculosis, Bazi Plague, Andorian measles, Akwood's syndrome, and Cooties. In other words it will be good for whatever ales you.

You may know that as of the end of 2022 Elon Musk is no longer the world's richest man due to a sharp drop in the value of his shares in electric car company Tesla. According to both Forbes and Bloomberg, he has been overtaken at the top spot by French business magnate Bernard Arnault.  In an effort to regain the top spot I see Musk expanding his booze business from the $250 Tesla Tequila and Giga Beer.  He will buy every independent craft brewery in the United States.  To help consumers know they’re drinking a true craft beer each label will feature a T shape design, representing a cross section of the Tesla engine, inside a ¾ full liter mug.  Several brewery owners will swear oaths on a stack of 437 bibles (a Baltimore Guinness Record) that they would never, never, never sell out.  However, within three days they will be vacationing in The Hilltop Villa atop Fiji’s Laucala Island after an extended stay at the Royal Penthouse at the President Wilson Hotel in Geneva.  They will get the special ex-brewer rate of just $89,000 a night (yes, that’s the real price).  Between sips of Mai Tai and Sapphire Martinis they will issue a statement saying the beer will not change under Mr. Musk’s ownership.

For the 24th consecutive year brewers, beer commentators, and industry insiders will say that lagers will come roaring back in popularity. For the 24th consecutive year they will be wrong.  Breweries who jump on the lager bandwagon will file for chapter 11 by spring.  Those who paired their lager belief with an unrepentant faith in the comeback of Pumpkin beers will be forcefully shut down by avenging craft beer vigilantes. One former brewery owner will get a Starbucks franchise but that too will fail when he loses a massive lawsuit for calling a customer a psycho.  It seems the guy came in and just sat there drinking coffee with no smartphone, tablet or laptop.  

Untappd, the ubiquitous beer sharing web portal, will lose tens of thousands of followers after they realize the name of their platform is incorrectly spelled.  This shocking discovery will be brought to the world’s attention during the annual Scripps National Spelling Beer.  Twelve-year-old T. Frothingill Bellows, after correctly spelling “erysipelas”, will lose in the finals by misspelling “untapped”. He leaves out the “e”. With tears in his eyes, he blames it on his father’s excessive beer drinking and compulsion to log in his beers to achieve another site badge.  Due to the controversy Untappd will sponsor its own spelling bee for words without an e.

I guarantee these prognostications  will all come true. If not, return them for a double refund. I do not, however, pretend to know other forthcoming events.  Please don’t send me requests for stock market tips, sports betting, or the best way to win at Baccarat chemin-de-fer.  I don’t even predict the weather anymore.  I got in trouble one year when I incorrectly predicted massive snowstorms.  That led many municipalities across the country to spend thousands of dollars on extra salt and plows they didn't need.  The problem was I didn’t realize the crystal ball shop sold me a snow globe.  Now you know why I only look in beer glasses.

Happy New Beer Year!

Wannabe Guideline

by Vince Capano

Back in the day, we early advocates of craft beer were on two missions, both from God.  One was to drink as much of it as possible, and the other, to spread the word of craft’s wonders (in that order). We were tilling the soil that allowed the then fledgling breweries to survive and thrive.  However, being an evangelist of good beer was not an easy task.  The power of no taste, no body, no anything, Nihilist lagers was dominate.  It was a struggle to get folks to even sample a real Kolsch, Pilsner, or Triple IPA (the sink or swim method).  If explaining that craft beer tasted better was not convincing enough an appeal to their conscience often worked.  All you had to do was get that macro beer drinker to realize he’d be adding loads of rice to the world’s food supply by not buying Bud, Miller, or Coors. 

Dedicated champions of craft were often called nerds, snobs, and geeks. And those were the good ones. Sometimes it was justified.  It was commonplace for some advocates to boringly drone on and on about craft’s attributes, not realizing that good beer speaks for itself.  Those folks were so arrogant they caught Covid 20. They also  provided the answer to the question ‘"how do you know if someone likes craft beer?" Answer: "Don’t worry, they’ll tell you".

Now, however, thanks to decades of craft growth and acceptance in the mainstream of the drinking culture, those epithets have become hard-earned titles of honor, coveted by many.  Such a dramatic turnaround seems to show that in reality most craft supporters didn’t have an attitude problem, others had a perception problem

Today, many of those wannabe beer geeks fall short of such elite status.  Since BeerNexus has long been known as the website with a heart it falls to us to provide a guideline for them.  Read and study the following carefully, there may be a quiz at the end.  No cheating please.  Honesty is the best policy.  Then again, since by elimination, dishonesty is the second-best policy, let’s forget the quiz.

At the start, it’s most important to note that the actual beers you drink are secondary.  Keep that in mind as we get going. You will probably need an Eliza Doolittle like transformation. How you speak and what you say both count. For practice say “the beer in Spain falls mainly in the plain” three hundred times fast while chugging a pint. Once you can do that easily you’ll have the diction part down.  The vocabulary might be a bit more challenging.  For example, you can’t say you like dark beer, you have to say what style of dark beer.  When describing the taste of beer you must use descriptors like scalded milk, fermented bandages, moldy basements, soiled baby diapers, damp horse blanket, and old hot dog water from a pushcart in Brooklyn on a hot summer day...last year,

With the current boom in low alcohol beers  you also have to use the term “crushable” as much as possible. That term is especially needed since we’re in an era when domestic light beers want to be Margaritas, ciders want to be fortified wines, and seltzers and teas want to be spiked. "Crushable” is not a timeless term; in fact, it might only make sense in the now, where the drinking landscape is dominated by the knockout strength of whiskeys, bourbons, vodkas, full-bodied wines, palate-wrecking double and triple IPAs and holiday imperial stouts.  All of which have one thing in common - they taste like you’re not going to work tomorrow.

Most people assume that to be a serious beer drinker you must have a beard.  However, in my long years of being involved with craft, I’ve found that doesn't apply to female beer experts.  Well, there was that one woman who worked at the circus but I’m not counting her.  As for the few beardless males, they’ve yet to figure out that money spent on razors can be better spent on beer. For brewers themselves, a beard is an unwritten requirement.  In fact, a true professional never trims, manicures or combs facial hair.  Slickly groomed beards, waxed mustaches, and carefully coiffed hair is reserved for the mixology community.

Beer geeks come in all shapes and sizes.  That puts the lie to the belief that drinking beer will always add unwanted weight. Not true.  Some of those extra pounds are wanted.  In fact, the stereotypical beer belly shape doesn’t come easy. You’re going to have to drink a lot to morph your six-pack abs into a keg.  To avoid that I’ve personally had to cut back a bit.  I now only visit my local drinking establishments for special events like tap takeovers, new bottle/can releases, , trivia nights, glass washing , bar cleaning, menu changes, mail deliveries, bartender shift changes, tap handle cleanings, and days of  the week that end in “y”.  I even began an exercise regimen of casually sitting at the bar while doing curls with weighted pint glasses. I’m also careful about what I eat.  A steady diet of bar pizza and chips has proven effective.  As such, I'm happy to say that such a health regimen has given me the body of an athlete.  And by athlete, I mean a sumo wrestler.

If some people say you’re not drinking in moderation, just say you don’t go to that bar anymore since they ran out of vintage gueuze.  If they persist in criticizing your level of consumption, forcefully point out you don’t need beer, you’re just trying a lot of different ones.  Only in the direst circumstances should you use your big gun and proclaim, “I would drink craft beer even if it was non-alcoholic.”  Then say a quick prayer they don’t call your bluff.

Dressing like a knowledgeable beer person is important.  The good news is you don’t have to consult a fashion guru or shop at some exclusive store in an exclusive mall in an exclusive suburb.  Most breweries and bars have their own boutique right on the premises.  Just look up between sips and you’ll likely see the establishment’s logoed t-shirt hanging up on the wall.  Just point and ask the bartender to put it on the bill.  Be careful not to wear that shirt at a competing place.  And that doesn’t just go for breweries and bars.  Nowadays everyone is sensitive. I once got thrown out of Starbucks when I walked in wearing a tea shirt.

Correct ordering can be a daunting task.  Wading through a serious beer menu demands not only a knowledge of beer styles and hops but also terms like ABV, SRM, and IOU (for the Samuel Adams Utopia, Brasserie Caulier’s Vieille Bon-Secours, and Cantillon Loerik 1998).   If you ever reach the 100th degree Beer Belt Geek level, you will not have to read the menu.  You will be able to apply the Chuck Norris principle. Chuck doesn't read menus. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.  That level of concentration will enable you to win a game of Connect Four in three moves.

Even experts disagree on the viability of asking for a taste before ordering.  To some it shows timidity or indecision that is unworthy of a true beer geek, to others it’s a wise move to avoid ordering a bad beer. Still others trust the Beer Force and bravely order a full pint.  When it arrives it’s permissible to say, “that’s my sample size.”  At that point a small smirk is acceptable if done in good taste. The trick in this technique is to have looked at the beer menu online beforehand.  If that provides insufficient information, an early visit to the place to taste a few may be necessary.  When doing that it is strongly recommended you wear a disguise. The ever-popular Groucho one is currently on sale in the BeerNexus merch store.

Wait.  Enough of this.  The only important thing to remember is that we’re talking about beer.  Beer is meant to be FUN.  The real beer lover, be he or she a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn, or a king, should never ever forget that.  No matter if you’ve been up and down and over and out you should know one thing - each time you find yourself flat on your face, just pick yourself up and get back with a pint.  That's beer - the glue that binds all of us together in the joy of life.. 

After all, from the Pabst Blue Ribbon chugger to the Westvleteren 12 sipper, we are all brothers and sisters in beer.

It's All Good

by Vince Capano

Think back to those pioneering craft bars that promised “no crap on tap”.  They chased the newest kegs from cutting-edge breweries.  Sadly, those bars have changed.  Now they’re usually serving the usual suspects that have lingered on their taps for months.  Even worse, the beer is often being pushed through less than pristine lines. Sad but true. I’ve spoken to several bar managers who told me when they get a feeling they need to clean the lines they lay down until the feeling goes away.  Logical, but probably not good for business, especially with competition growing daily in the shape of brewery tasting / tap rooms.

The tasting room is to some the best development ever to come along in craft beer or, according to many bar and restaurant owners, one of the most damaging things in the history of the known universe… and beyond.  I think that might be a tad excessive.  In today’s economy some people have it a lot worse.  For example, my neighbor got a pre-declined credit card in the mail, all the big shot executives here at BeerNexus are now playing miniature golf., and Exxon-Mobil laid off 25 Congressmen.

Brewery tasting rooms as we know them today, literally, did not exist 35 years ago. Even 10 years ago the number of brewery taprooms in the U.S. was insignificant compared to today. What is even more surprising is the sheer magnitude of their impact.  Even a dedicated bar inhabitant like me, with a permanently reserved stool at several pubs, prefers to go to a tasting room.  And please don’t say it’s because I’m a cheapskate. I’m not buying it.  Besides, when you go to a brewery you pay full retail price.  No discounts.  That’s a shame since I love getting a discount.  I once bought a wig at a great discount.  No way I was going toupee full price.

It is not surprising that brewery taprooms are impacting the bottom line of other drinking establishments.  One reason tasting rooms are, shall we say, hopping, is because the beer is always fresh.  You’re drinking at the source in an atmosphere that is downright convivial when compared to the faux excitement of a noisy, chic restaurant or the generic humdrum of sports bars.  

A big reason for the relaxed, homey feeling at most tasting rooms is that they let kids and dogs join with the rest of the family. Instead of an outing at the park or a visit to the zoo, now the entire family can get together for quality drinking, I mean bonding, time. If the kid doesn’t have his ID handy, not to worry, there’s a generic fake one always on hand for him to borrow.  The one for toddlers has an adorable picture of Mickey Mouse holding up an overflowing stein.

The family friendly atmosphere is enhanced by the brewery usually having a stack of’ board games available.  Last week I visited one tasting room that was so crowded the only place I could stand was near a shelf stacked full of everything from Chutes & Ladders to Connect Four to Battleship.  It took a steady stream of kids taking and returning games for me to realize I could simply say they were mine, but that I’d be happy to rent them out.  Hey, what does a kid know after a few beers? Besides, at $8 a pint I had to do something to afford a couple more for the road.   

In addition to kids and their folks, there were nearly a dozen dogs of very shape and size.  I looked up while enjoying a really good West Coast IPA and saw one little guy who had to be all of 5 years old parading a monster 100+ pound pound pooch around.  Very cute, and the kid was too. As he passed me, I started petting the dog and asked the proud youngster what its name was.  He said, “I don’t know, he’s not mine. I saw him so took him for a walk.”  At that point a beleaguered pet owner came running over to retrieve her missing dog.  Clearly, it was time for a beer for all of us. I drank the kid’s and the dog’s.

Look around most tasting rooms and you’ll probably notice there’s a demographic at work. It seems the boom in such places can partly be attributed to the age group of 21 through 39 (aka millennials), which is an age group that seems to crave outlets to engage with friends while getting tipsy, or more politely, enjoying new sensory experiences.  Although I’m close to being a millennial myself (no fact checking please) I still find that a few of them have an annoying attitude of superiority. They’re always walking around like they rent the place.  I once saw a millennial trying to change a lightbulb.  He stood there, holding it, waiting for the world to revolve around him.  Then again, my generation has its faults too.  We were the ones that linoleumed over all those beautiful hardwood floors.

The taproom is an increasingly important part of a brewery’s business, and in some cases their only business.  In effect they’re a real beer bar entirely tied to a single brewery.  Indeed, many small new breweries have no intention of selling their beer anywhere else. One big reason for that is the brewery makes a lot more money when it retails its own beer compared to wholesaling it out to distributors.  Another is that selling beer to outside establishments isn’t easy. The local beer store only has so much room on its shelves and there are only so many tap handles available at local bars.  It’s like my jokes, the supply is larger than the demand.

The taproom not only let’s people drink beer but often enables people to buy beer to go in cans, crowlers, growlers and crullers (just seeing if you were paying attention). These take-out options provide a reliable stream of revenue. This is especially true for small-sized breweries which are the ones I find are the most fun to visit.  At these places you can often actually meet the brewer. Most are very nice, but few will ever buy you a beer. I guess they’re not that nice after all.

Not only are many retailers complaining about losing a portion of their business to direct sales at breweries, but now distributors are too.  One of distributors’ primary stocks in trade has been increasing their profit with the help of the monopolistic requirement that producers must rely on a third party for retail sales. It’s a fact that in most states all alcohol sold must—by law— go through a wholesaler.  That wholesaler however, is under no obligation to represent any brand that asks to be distributed in the state. It’s the three-card monte, ah, three tier system, at work.  Additionally, expenses are further increased since under the system, before a can or bottle reaches the consumer it gets stamped with taxes along each stop.  The brewers should use my tax guy.  He’s so good he has a loophole named after him.

Perhaps another reason tasting/tap rooms seem more comfortable than many bars is that people go there to only drink the friendly beverage. beer.  You can’t get buzzed on vodka, bourbon, or gin since they’re not allowed to sell anything but beer.  Even if a ghost walked in, he’d be summarily told they don’t serve spirits. 

Interestingly, you rarely see an intoxicated person at a brewery tasting room (for those who were at the Libertine Brewery the other day let me officially say I was over served).  This has as much to do with where it is being drank as to what and how it's being drank. The brewery tasting room provides a new kind of environment. it is a different sort of social experience.

Brewery tasting rooms embody much of what makes the craft beer movement what it is. They bring people of various backgrounds together in an atmosphere that is conducive to fun, conversation, and, of course, drinking beer. 

It's all good, even if there’s a toddlers’ birthday party and a dog yoga class going on there too.

The Misanthropes 

by Vince Capano 

It’s time to update the 1927 hit song “'Fifty-million Frenchmen can't be wrong” (it lauded the free and easy attitude toward drinking in France while the US had Prohibition) to “140 million American beer drinkers can’t be wrong”.  That’s the number reported to drink IPAs.  It’s the dominate craft beer among the seemingly endless variety of styles available and has been for quite a while.  Yet there are a number of misanthropic subversives lurking in the murky muck and menacing mire of the beer underworld who continually try to topple this popular juggernaut from its exalted perch.  You know who they are.  These haters can easily be identified by their cynical, tarnished, obsessive, brooding, sinister, disillusioned, frightened, and insecure demeanor.  And those are their good qualities. 

IPA haters have a wide range of occupations ranging from IMAX screen cleaner to cork harvester to bingo game caller. Some are even brewers.  Those are the easiest to identify.  If they make ten beers only one will be an IPA, and that’s done reluctantly.  Their other nine beers will be styles most people don’t want.  Raise your hand if you can’t wait a second more for your next Gruit, Grodziskie, Braggot, Chicha, or Dampfbier.  I don’t even have to take off my socks to count that number.  The only thing more off-putting than drinking them is pronouncing them.

 It’s hard to believe but some brewers rather show how many bad versions of unpopular styles they can produce than concentrate on perfecting a variety of IPAs that people want to buy.  My guess is those brewers and the so called “expert” beer pundits are still expecting the lager boom any day now.  Don’t they realize that day has already lasted over ten years and we’re still counting? IPAs pay the bills.  A wise creditor could do worse than demanding a clause in a brewery’s loan agreement specifying most of the beers must be IPAs.  Doesn’t anyone want to be the next Tree House or Other Half instead of just another half?

I visited three local breweries over the last couple of weeks and got a chance to chat with their brewers/owners.  One told me he sold out of his lone IPA twice while his other offerings (the usual gamut) languished.  He swore he’ll never run out of it again.  He’s buying extra tanks that will be totally dedicated to making more IPAs.  He hopes to double his money.  I wish him luck. The only way I ever doubled my money was to fold it over when I put it in my pocket.

The second brewery, only recently opened, had 9 beers, only one in the IPA family - a good Double NEIPA.  The first week it sold out.  The second week it sold out.  When I asked the owner if he was going to devote more of his capacity to it he said no.  He proclaimed, “People want a variety of beers even if they don’t buy them.”  Huh? Perhaps injudiciously I said, “If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.” He reminded me of a guy who couldn’t fix his car’s brakes, so he made the horn louder.

The third brewery had 11 beers on tap, 7 of which were versions of IPA.  I spoke with the head brewer who was not the owner.  Flashing my Official BeerNexus secret decoder ring (soon available for sale) seemed to convince him that I was one of his brethren, so he candidly said “I don’t want to make all these IPAs.  The owner is making me do it.  If it was up to me, I wouldn’t make any.”  He added that the brewery was making so much money the owner currently was on vacation in Bora Bora (decidedly not a bora bora place to be).  “I’ll get the last laugh when all these IPAs flop” he added. The moral clearly is those who laugh last usually think the slowest.

There are, of course, a few IPA haters who are actually well-informed drinkers, knowledgeable about wine, cocktails and craft beer.  They deserve our respect, not ridicule. I don’t really believe that, but the editor forced me to write it to avoid any possible libel suits.  My apologies.  I hate to lie.  I learned that lesson way back in Sunday school when the teacher told us to prepare for next week's lesson by reading Mark 17. The following Sunday, he asked for a show of hands as to who had read it. My hand instantly went up. The teacher smiled and said, "Mark has only sixteen chapters. I will now proceed with my lesson on the sin of lying." 

 In defense of the anti-IPA crowd a recent study claims that how humans react to bitterness is rooted in instinct and genetics, not bad taste. It says that our early ancestors were hunter-gathers whose instinctive, adverse primal reaction to bitterness helped them avoid poisonous plants.  If so, then it seems that while most of humanity evolved, the anti-IPA folks didn’t go all the way and now subconsciously interpret a beer’s bitterness as poison.  The report goes on to say that hardly anyone really likes bitter beer the first time they try it proving the theory’s validity; that they drink bitter beer again because of social pressure or motivations other than taste. My view is all this proves the two most common elements in the universe are hydrogen and useless studies.

For most people “IPA” has come to mean a generously hopped ale that demands to be drunk fresh. But even though hops are, by definition, a bittering agent to keep beer from being too cloying, it doesn’t necessarily mean all hoppy beers taste bitter.  Unfortunately (for my tastes), we’re not back in those wonderous, glorious days when there was an arms race to brew the bitterest of “hop bombs.” Think back to when Stone Brewing bottled their first double IPA. That beer, Ruination, was so loaded with certain strains of hops that its bitterness was marketed as being “ruinous” to a drinker’s palate. The coming years would bring more stirringly potent bitter beers, many with provocative names like Palate Wrecker and Tongue Buckler. The peak had to be Mikkeller’s 1000 IBU, supposedly the bitterest IPA ever produced, despite the fact that science says that 100 IBUs is the maximum humans can actually taste. Maybe Mikkeller exaggerated a bit, by about 900 IBU’s or so.  Who would know? And for the record you’ll never see exaggerations like that in my columns. My father told me a million times...never to exaggerate.

The advent of the New England IPA, the Northeast IPA, the East Coast IPA, and the IPA From Parts Unknown have taken the “b” from bitter and used it for words like blissful, blithe, benign, and buoyant to describe their brew.  Hey, you can’t go wrong with any “b” word since it’s the coolest letter in the alphabet.  it’s sitting in the middle of the AC.  These beers stress intense fruit flavors and aromas, a soft body, smooth mouthfeel, and an often-opaque haze from an ever expanding variety of hops used in more nuanced ways than ever before.

Saying you don’t like “hoppy” beer nowadays is like saying you don’t like “grape-y” wine or cheery Cheerios.   Hops is one of four integral ingredients in beer, and surely the most prominent one in most modern American craft beers. But they don’t just taste like one thing.  Hopunion, one of the world’s largest suppliers of commercial hops, offers over 120 different varieties. Some are exclusively used for bittering purposes, but the majority are used to add unique flavors and aromas. These can run the gamut from tropical and citrusy to herbal and earthy, with countless flavors in between.  You’d think with all those hops I could find one to make my homebrew taste better. Sadly, its quality remains dubious.

Shortly after the breakneck rise of the New England IPA, the Milkshake IPA appeared as a hazy IPA taken to a new extreme via the addition of lactose.  The lactose does not ferment and convert into alcohol like other sugars, so it remains intact to give the beverage a sweet flavor. Why anyone would pick sweetness over more alcohol is a mystery to me.  

When these hazy beers first started many of the old brewers were saying, ‘Those brewers are just lazy,' I guess they didn't realize getting that protein to stay suspended is tough.  It's that gravity thing. Those complainers are the real lazy ones, probably even lazier than people who throw kisses.

Curiously, around the same time the Milkshake IPA arrived, so did its polar opposite: the Brut IPA, which was the shortest-lived style I can recall.  It lasted about nine months.  That’s about eight and a half months too long.  It’s basically a saison made by adding an enzyme that would ferment all the sugar. Most beer has 2.5 %  of residual sugar, which is dry, but this one has 0%. To put it another way, it just doesn't taste good.  It was a beer that made saying goodbye to it so very easy.

Beer industry executives, brewers, breweries, marketing gurus, beer aficionados, and drinkers of every kind often debate what the next hot new beer will be.  The answer is clear. In the end, the next big thing is likely going to be..... IPA.

 And if it’s really bitter, all the better.

Mr. Cool  

by Vince Capano

My beer compatriot  Richie is one cool guy.  His Guinness is always served with a four-leaf clover design on its foamy top.  On occasion, when the on-duty bartender doesn’t have the skill or knowledge to do it, management has often given him the beer for free along with a lengthy apology.  It’s the least they could do.  To his credit, Richie never berates the bartender for a clover-less pint.  He understands that it’s not easy to do.  Consider that after all the trouble to pour the Guinness correctly and then topping it off with a light head, the bartender must be very careful not to destroy those lovely, delicate, tiny nitrogen bubbles with pressure from the design.  I’ve watched a few super-slow motion videos of the process and the trick seems to be that the bartender moves the glass away from himself while drawing since that somehow lessens the force of the flow.  Then, it’s all about his artistic capability.  I’ve actually tried doing it a few times and my shamrock was always utterly incomprehensible which, according to the Serious Artist’s Handbook, means it’s full of deep significance.

There are several scientific studies, most notably one from my alma mater, the prestigious Wassamatta U., that seem to indicate that Guinness tastes better with a properly drawn shamrock.  I personally like it with or without one.  Give me a few pints along with some soda bread and I’m ready to try out for the touring company of Riverdance.

Richie is also a beer philosopher who, when I see him in a pub, always sets the bar so high for cleverness that few could reach it, even on a stool.  He always leaves me with concepts that demand deep thought.  Clearly, he lives up to the motto on his t-shirt, “drink in moderation, think in excess.”  Admittedly that can be a struggle for me though I do have my moments.  Case in point, yesterday I was thinking of changing my name to “Authorized Personnel”.  Imagine all the places I could go with a name like that. 

Richie's most recent nugget nectar of beer insight was that the optimum economic decision in buying a beer on draft is to get one that has a higher ABV (alcohol by volume) percentage than its price.  For the contrarians out there it also works if the price is lower than the ABV.  I’ve taken that concept one giant step further.  I've correlated that ratio with the volume of beer in the glass and its height/width/circumference factored by a special proprietary algorithm inspired by the philosophical works of  renown intellectual geniuses, Larry Fine, Moe Howard, and Jerome Howard.   I've read and studied each of their books intensely, mostly during commercials while watching Svengoolie on MeTV. 

My algorithm includes cost per ounce, weight of the glass, the amount of head on the beer, it's temperature, and two secret factors. And no, I’m not revealing them no matter how you try to persuade me. Hey, I’m no egg, I won’t crack under pressure.  It’s because of that sort of steadfastness that I was finally accepted to the Secret Club. I can’t tell you how excited I am.

Adding my metric to Richie’s theorem will save you from buying, for example, a fake shaker “pint” (they’re really 14 ounces) of Michelob ULTRA at your local pub for $6 - $8 since it’s ABV is only 3.8%.  And yes, that’s the current cost of many macro brews in inflation battered areas. It seems that by the time you can finally make ends meet, inflation moves the ends.  There is some good news however for those who ordered a Michelob  ULTRA recently and thought they had caught Covid.  You didn’t lose your sense of taste; it’s the beer.

The secret sauce of Richie's axiom is that a lot of "big"(high alcohol level) beers, qualify.  It gives total monetary justification for those of us who opt to drink a powerful double IPA, barleywine, or Imperial stout instead of a wimpy lager, watery Kolsch, or thin pilsner.  Even beyond the wise expenditure of your dollar, bigger beers are generally better beers.  Years ago, I enjoyed my first Dogfish 120 Minute IPA. It was brewed with an ABV of between 16 and   20 %, which, is about four or five times higher than Miller Lite or a Pabst Blue Ribbon. The leap wasn’t just an increase in alcohol content, but also in flavor—the beer went big across the board with taste and complexity as well.  That’s because there are specific flavor active compounds associated with high ABV beers that would not be desirable in lower ABV ones. Professional brewers have told me there are ways to mitigate the production of these compounds in high gravity fermentations using temperature, CO2, pitching regimen, and pressure manipulations.  I have no idea what any of that means but I’ counting it as another reason why, when it comes to beer, bigger is better.

Just think of the intense flavor profiles that come with barrel aging.  The delectable notes of the barrel can only come through with big beers which explains why you won’t see a Bourbon Barrel Aged Coors Ultra Extreme Light beer anytime soon.  The higher alcohol provides the beer with inherent defenses against infections and makes it much more likely to come out of the barrel without wild yeast off-flavors or bacterial issues that a low alcohol beer would.  Dr. Fauci would be proud.  And so would Dr, Frankenstein.

High ABV beers are now more popular than ever. As they often say on Shark Tank, the proof is in the numbers.  The most recent sales totals clearly show that a growing number of drinkers are gravitating toward the extremes of beer’s alcohol spectrum, choosing either very strong beers or, surprisingly, beers without any alcohol at all. We can totally dismiss the latter group.  I feel sorry for those folks. When they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.  Most of the zero alcohol beer drinkers say they are drinking it so they will live longer.  I’m not sure about that but I do know it will feel longer.

According to the Beer Institute, beers with an ABV higher than 8% — mostly double and triple India pale ales, Belgian-style tripels and imperial stouts — have gained 11% in market share versus four years ago.  I can only imagine how high that will go once people realize the economic efficacy of what I now officially christen "The Smith, Keynes, Ricardo, Hayek, Friedman, Richie Law of Wise Beer Buying"..

It's important to remember that Richie’s theorem does not mean you can’t buy a craft session beer or macro swill at an optimal price.  The best-selling beer in America has been the same for 21 years: Bud Light, a distinctly middle-of-the-low road lager clocking in at 4.2 percent. Many a local dive bar will sell you a glass of it for less than $4.20, meeting Richie's criteria.  Even better, the national average price of a glass of Icehouse beer (5.5% ABV) is just $2.50.  Buying Icehouse will keep you out of the poor house.  And it's a better way to save money than washing your paper plates.

Richie’s sagacious, perspicacious, and percipient understanding of things go far beyond beer economics.  Among a myriad of other subjects, it even reaches into the artistic realm, most notably classic film.  I credit him for introducing me to the fascinating world of film noir.  Think Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, Double Indemnity and anything with cops, venetian blinds, lots of smoking, hats, sweat, dead-end streets, guys who know all the angles (except for the one that ends up sticking out of their backs), and of course, sirens of the female kind, and you’ve got it. 

Richie originally explained film noir better and more concisely to me: “It’s 64 minutes of murder, mayhem, and malice.”  Perfect. 

As I told you, he is one cool guy.

As Time Goes By

by Vince Capano

Are you the buy it, drink it, move on kind of person or do you have an official beer cellar, a tucked away beer closet, or perhaps a secret stash saved in an old brown box under a leaky radiator just waiting for a special occasion?  If you’re hoping to achieve full beer geekolgist certification be aware that it’s a requirement.  You simply must be aging a few choice bottles.  Tucking them away in a cool dark place to mature is no different than what any budding oenophile would do with a fine wine.  If it works for wine, why not beer? I can personally attest to the fact that wine does Improve with age. The older I get, the better I like it. 

The secret truth about cellaring wine is that most aren't meant to age. The majority of wine is released within 2 years of being grapes in a vineyard and then slurped up within 6 months of purchase.  That's understandable; after all, who could wait a year or more to enjoy the wonderous nuanced flavors from a gallon jug of Wild Irish Rose or Thunderbird?  Although many wine drinkers won't admit it, most of wine sold in the US will be worse if aged. What a waste of money, though it's actually not that much. Ninety percent of wine sold goes for $10 - $14 a bottle.  As a point of comparison, that meager tariff that won’t get you an automatic apple slicer, a premium silicon spatula, a box of pimple healing patches, or a 4 pack from most craft breweries. 

As for beer, its cellaring truth is that unless it is a sour, smoked, spiced, or has an alcohol content of at least 9% ABV (who would buy a beer with less than that in the first place?) it is not a good candidate for the positive effect of aging.  The high AVV is key.  It is needed since the alcohol acts as a preservative, slowing the effects of time and allowing more mature flavors to develop. As for sour and smoked beers, they have other preservatives (lactic acid and smoke phenols) to slow and alter the effects of age in good ways. Well, maybe.

Even if you follow those guidelines, the harsh reality is that aging beer is always a gamble; a calculated risk that the structure and character of the beer will not only stand up to the test of time, but actually improve.  If you’re the unlucky type who once bet on a horse at 10 to 1 and it didn’t come in until half-past three and when playing poker your best chance for a straight flush is in the bathroom, then you might not want to give it a try.

So, what happens when a beer ages? When successful, the yeasts that are present will continue to change the character of the beer, certain flavors will dissipate, others will move to center stage, and positive aspects of oxidization will occur. If it ages unsuccessfully the bitterness, aroma, and taste of the hops will fade away leaving you with a bottle of wet newspaper flavors, reeking of decaying cardboard soaked in cheap sherry.  Yummy. 

As for the “right conditions” in which to store / age your beer, two elements are essential: cool and dark. Beers like to age in creepy places like dank basements, dark garages, crumbling catacombs, and abandoned asylums in hidden caves.  All are free of sunlight.  If none of those are available you can take the easy way out and simply move to Tromsø, Norway, since from November to January, the sun doesn't rise at all. An alternate choice would be Utqiaġvik, Alaska where once the sun sets in November, residents won't see daylight for two months. All will help your beer avoid the UV rays in sunlight that can skunk it.  UV rays are especially dangerous to beer in clear or green bottles.      I recommend swathing those in sunscreen with at least an SPF rating of 100.  It doesn’t pay to skimp on protection where beer is concerned.

It's logical to assume that most brewers do not want their beer aged.  They made it for us to drink now, not to see how putting the beer away for a while will change the flavor profile.  If, for example, a famous chef like Gordon Ramsay or Chef Boyardee, put his signature dish in front of you would you add additional condiments to change the flavor? Probably not, especially if they were watching.  Their reaction would not be pleasant. Both are known to beat eggs and whip cream.

Brewers are much more knowledgeable about creating beer than anyone else.  That includes, despite their proclamations, beer judges, beverage critics, Cicerones, and Bud Clamato drinkers.  What brewers produce in the bottle is their interpretation on the finished product they want their customers to enjoy. By aging and cellaring the beer you’ve changed the vision that brewer had. 

If you are like me and really don’t care that much about the brewer’s vision especially when it seems that they have lost sight of it, you might find that the end result of proper cellaring an appropriate beer will bring a softening and decreasing of any harsh notes.  As time goes by flavors will begin to blend, resulting in increased complexity; revealing taste sensations that move to the forefront as others fade.  You will be creating a unique, new drinking experience. You will be the Dr. Frankenstein of beer.

I have two beer cellars.  One is under the kitchen sink.  I neatly store a few bottles there next to ones of Mr. Clean, Clorox, Lysol, and Tide.  Except for the one time I cleaned the sink with Founders KBS and drank Mr. Clean it’s a system that has worked well.  My other cellar is linear and it’s in my bedroom.  It’s a line of bottles along the walls.  I figured it would be a convenient place if I ever woke up thirsty during the night (it beats getting up for a drink of water) and it wouldn’t be disturbed much since I only clean the floor every other year. 

The big question anyone who cellars beer must face is when to open one of those precious bottles. Despite some who say anytime is the right time, I recommend you do so only for the most important and noteworthy occasions.   That last few times I was so moved included the 56rd anniversary of Joe DiMaggio’s 56 game hitting streak (July 17), Learn Your Name in Morse Code Day (Jan 11), Play Your Ukulele Day (Feb.2), Everything You Think is Wrong Day (March 15), Talk Like Yoda Day (May 21), and of course, Cellar Your Beer Day (May 25th).  For the record all of those are real except one.  Care to guess which it is? (answer below)

While I am someone who will only drink IPAs that are less than a month old, my list of other style aged/cellared beers is quite impressive.  I have a 2010 Olde English 800, a 2014 Mamma Mia! Pizza Beer, a 2012 Colt 45, a 2016 Ghost Face Killah , a 2007 Steel Reserve, and an amazing 1999 Wellworks' Spaghetti Garlic Gose.  I can almost see you drooling.

I also have two special bottles stored away.  One is a brown bomber bottle with a hand written date of 1995.  I think it’s one of my homebrews that somehow escaped being poured down the drain.  The other is an undated bottle of Ballantine Ale.  I’m hoping it’s like a tree so I can figure out how old it is.  Instead of counting rings, I can just count the layers of dust.

--------------------

Answer to the question: cellar beer day

Beer Zeppelin

By Vince Capano

Look up in the sky, it’s a bird, it’s a plane….., it’s a Zeppelin!  And it’s on my beer can! The beer was Singlecut Beersmiths’ The Starship DDH IPA.  Despite not ever having tasted the beer I couldn’t care less about it.  I’ve never had a good beer from Singlecut so I didn’t have high expectations this one would break that dubious streak. However, the chance to enjoy a stunning label and to be able to actually peel the picture of the Zeppelin off it was impossible to resist.  One gentle tug on the ship’s nose and I would have my very own Zeppelin sticker.  I could wave it around and pretend I was the pilot of the coolest blimp in the world.  I once even thought about getting a license to fly a real one but there was a long waiting period; it was a GoodYear or so.

The bottom line is that I had unashamedly bought a beer I really didn’t want simply because of the label’s interactive artwork.  Don’t laugh too loud, you would have done it too if you were as big a fan of Zeppelins, Blimps, and Dirigibles as me. Hey, if sport teams, actors, and singers can have fans, why not flying balloons? And for the record, I have fans too.  One’s right here on my desk and it really cools things down on a hot day.

Now I know you’re wondering what really is the difference between those flying dervishes of the sky, Zeppelins, Blimps, and Dirigibles? Pay attention, there’s a quiz at the end of the paragraph. A dirigible is any lighter-than-air craft that is both powered and steerable as opposed to free floating.  Think of it as how you feel before your first beer compared to after your fourth. Blimps, like the Goodyear one, are rigid airships, inflated with helium. They have gas cells surrounded by a framework that that give it the famous cigar shape.   Zeppelins are rigid airships too, but manufactured by only one particular entity, the Luftschiffbau Zeppelin Airship Construction Company in Germany.  Quiz question - who founded that company?  A. Zeppo Airshipo; B. Airo Constructiono; C. Luft Luftschiffbau, D. Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin.  Sorry, your time is up.  It was D. You didn’t win the big prize but thanks for playing along. I feel bad for you; oh the humanity.

Striking cans arrest eyeballs at beer stores, separating themselves from the visual pack. That’s no easy task. Store shelves are mobbed with fruited IPAs, barrel aged imperial stouts, funky beers overrun with weird yeasts, and countless other goodies. However, deploying such eccentric ingredients no longer is such a powerful novelty that it can make one truly distinctive in the swarm of quality beer everywhere. So, the next great differentiator is the package, that is, the can.  Indeed, beautiful art stands out, since, as we know, beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.

While pairing art and beer seem like a bold new move that’s not really the case.  After Prohibition, breweries wanted to reposition beer as a central part of American life since once it was accepted in the home, beer would become part of the normal, established way of living. It seems that back then people didn’t fully realize that beer was life and life was beer, proving once again just how mind numbing and insidious Prohibition really was.

By the mid-1940s however, breweries began to see that the smart use of fine art in their beer sales campaigns added a level of distinction and civility to their product. People were even invited to write to breweries for free reprints of the can's artworks “suitable for framing”.  They were subtly declaring that the advertisements—and beer by association–were appropriate for the home.  Here in the BeerNexus office we have more than a few reproductions of some of the more famous of those old posters.  Admittedly ours have less to do with their artistic content than with their ability to cover up holes, chipped paint, and beer stains.

Beer can designs have become premium visual currency, the markers of good (and bad) taste. The range is wide from the emotive color-scapes on cans of Foreign Objects to the loud, cartoonish art of Sloop Brewing  Think about Other Half's IPAs outfitted in bold, geometric designs; the sci-fi whacky monster designs from KCBC, or the gorgeous typographic treatments twinned to a vibrant color scheme on cans of Modern Times and Oskar Blues.  However there is also a dark side to can art.  How about Village Idiot’s Thong Remover with a picture of a dog removing a woman’s undergarments, Southern Star’s Bombshell Blonde with a picture of a buxom woman straddling  a soaring rocket, or Flying Dog’s Freezin' Season Winter Ale with a label depicting a naked cartoon character standing by a fire?  I grant you that one at least had some logic behind it.  After all, it was winter, and the person didn’t have any clothes on.  If that was you, where would you stand? A fire makes a lot of sense on a really cold day.  If you look carefully, you’ll see it was so cold the character chipped a tooth on his soup.

That label caused enough furor that North Carolina banned it as “undignified, immodest, and in bad taste”, other than that they liked it. Flying Dog, filed suit saying a naked cartoon person may be every one of that ignominious trio but bad taste is legal, according the First Amendment.  They cited the precedent setting case in which the Justices ruled that while you can’t yell fire in a crowded theater the Constitution protects your right to yell theater in a crowded fire. Swayed by that irrefutable logic, the U.S. District Court for Eastern North Carolina ruled in favor of Flying Dog.  Don’t blame me. The only Judge I’m a fan of is Aaron on the Yankees.

Now before you think that decision means anything goes on labels be aware that whether a brewery is trying to push boundaries of bad taste or showcase pseudo cleverness to increase sales, a label design is first judged by the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau even before individual state commissions have their say. It’s the ATTB that sets the basic standards for what’s permissible.  They will turn you down if they think you’re saying something that is directly false by commission or omission, is generally ambiguous, or misleading.  For example, saying your beer is better than Michelob Ultra would be misleading since every beer is better.  Claiming on your label that left-handed Belgium Monks on a volcano in Hawaii make the beer with rainwater from Chernobyl would also be rejected since everyone knows those monks are all right-handed.  One clever brewer submitted a brand to get free advertising from the other major labels. He called the beer "responsibly".  It was rejected.

Remember when, not that long ago, the humble can was seen as a second-class beer packaging?  Back then many thought “good” beer only came in a bottle. Then in 2002, Colorado’s Oskar Blues became the first modern craft brewer to put its product in aluminum. That was no easy task since aluminum is a harder canvas for the artist. On the plus side, aluminum is a whole lot better at holding beer than porous canvas.  Just as limiting, the artist has to deal with the fact that only a little more than half of of the can is visible at one time which can distort graphics and designs in the same way drinking a few pints will.  And if you think you're seeing artistic stars on every single can label on the shelf, it’s called cataracts 

I can see the purists rolling their eyes at all this talk about labels when they believe it’s the quality of the beer that really drives sales.  That’s true in the long run but, sadly, the fact is that if your can is dull and drab few people will ever pick it up in the first place. That high quality beer inside will never be known.  It’s creativity that sells, so beer labels are fast becoming not only a marketing tool but also the world’s newest art form. These artists are creating the Sistine Chapel of the beer world.  Not convinced?  Next time you’re in your favorite beer store take a gander down the rows and rows of beer; it’s like an art gallery.  One thing for sure, you’ll know you’re not in the bread aisle.

FU  QR

by Vince Capano

Who knew you needed a smart phone to get a beer?  Sorry drinkers, but signs, gestations, pathetic pleading, tantrums, waving of legal tender, doing a double somersault tuck half gainer from the highest bar stool, and of course dumb phones will all leave you dry but certainly not high.  Here’s a tale of infamy in the hopes that it will stir the conscience of a nation.

 I went into a local pub that will remain nameless (The Suburban) and sat down at a table for a beer since every stool at the bar was taken except one.  It was next to an inebriated, disheveled, rotund guy with a long white beard mumbling Christmas carols to himself between loud hacking coughs, knocking down cans of White Claus. White Claus? Hmmmm - you don't think it was.....nah.

The bartender was having an intimate chat with a friend who obviously hadn’t paid for her beer and probably the three before that. Two servers were standing in a corner talking about how they hated their job.  Hey, being a server in a pub may not be the highest paying one around but at least it puts food on the table.  Ah, that’s servers….food on the table….never mind.

Then I saw it, the bane of pubs and restaurant goers.  At first, I thought it was a square black-and-white Rorschach test. After careful examination and reflection, I thought I saw a picture of two pint gasses, upside down, half full, in a brewery, in front of a ghost.  I realized that couldn’t be right since breweries don't serve spirits (just keep reading, there’s bound to be a decent joke eventually).  I finally realized it was a QR code (short for “quick response”) and read the ominous line “all menus available and all orders only taken through use of the code”.  My first thought was where’s the nearest dive bar that doesn’t have wi-fi. 

Now before some whistle blowing do-gooder reports me to the CDC, let me say that I appreciate the cleverness of the concept especially in the early days of the pandemic as QR menus are obviously touchless, limiting the spread of viruses and bacteria among staff and customers. They are clean.  Well, that’s only as clean as your phone, which probably isn’t really that clean at all.  Just think back, when was the last time you took it into the shower with you?  I rest my case.

As the coronavirus peak is hopefully past and most restrictions are lifted, experts now agree that the spread of the virus was never mainly from surfaces but from airborne situations.   That means those printed beer menus have been proven innocent of any wrongdoing.  I was right all along in championing them. Now I know how Henry Fonda felt in the movie classic Twelve Angry Men – vindicated (oops, hope that didn’t give the ending away). Somehow, despite such indisputable evidence, QR codes have not gone away. Too bad since their departure would clearly prove all goodbyes aren't sad.

QR codes can ruin the most important of conversations where rapt, focused attention is required.  For example, if I’m at a bar, engaged in a deep, insightful discussion about the subtle differences between Phantasm and Phantom (Quiz Time – which one of those is basically pulverized freeze-dried Sauvignon Blanc grapes and which is the “Ghost Who Walks”, crime-fighter from Bangalla?) — the code will be a fatal distraction from the nuances of the topic since it inherently brings a phone into play.  That phone is like a Klingon tractor beam locking the Enterprise into deadly danger.  It has the power to turn otherwise clear thinking, productive, beer drinking people into dumbfounded captives of a five-inch screen, stroking its glass surface until their fingers get sore instead of where they should be, wrapped around a pint glass.  

A hand-held beer menu at a serious craft pub is like a tableau of drinking wonder, where one can visually compile a glorious sequence of beers by just darting their eyes between the brews. In the not too uncommon case where the offerings are so extensive flipping the menu over or turning a page will be required. I’ve found that most people are up to the task.  It is, after all, a fairly simple process.  With a little practice you could even do it left-handed, with one eye closed.

QR codes also make the very bold assumption that everyone walking to a bar or restaurant owns a smartphone with unlimited internet access (or at least enough data that scrolling through a bunch of pages and PDFs won’t ruin their monthly data allotment).  And for the record, not having a smart phone is not restricted to troglodytes, toddlers, or a time travelers from 1860.  Even someone as sophisticated and worldly as my good friend Brian, aka the “Beer Poet”, doesn’t have one.  His oft quoted response when challenged about his use of a flip phone is legendary - “so, go ahead and shoot me.”  Fortunately, no crazed technophoneoholic has taken him up on it ……yet.

Having a non-smart phone insures a person he won’t spend the whole day scrolling and being forced to stay on airplane mode to make sure he has enough juice to call an Uber to get home.  In the not too old good old days flip phone users used to know that a bar was one of the few places left where they could be entirely comfortable.  It was the one place where they knew, without reservation, that the only thing expected of them when they walked through the door was to be thirsty. Now, they never know what to anticipate or what they’ll be asked to do.  Today it’s menus and ordering by phone, next you’ll need a degree from the National University of Science and Technology to handle the task.  Interestingly, the school is not called the National University of Technology and Science; that would be NUTS.

We all know that bars and restaurants have had an extremely tough couple of years. Maybe they are justified in saying QR codes saves them money on menu printing.  And, if the world is going to insist on disposable menus for the foreseeable future, QR codes might also save some trees.  Who can argue with that?  Personally, I’m 100% in favor of everyone doing their part for the environment.  There are many ways to do that.  I often save energy. I normally use the couch.  To be honest, of all the expenses bars face, photocopies of menus are down there with air for the hand dryer in the restroom.

Studying the online beer menu took me a while.  I had to scroll through what seemed like 400 feet of screens.  Then came the ultimate indignity. I had to order my beer via the phone.  I punched in my selection and credit card information on my phone’s tiny keyboard with clunky, dumb fingers. That took 14 minutes, 3 seconds (not that I was counting).  At that point the only finger I wanted to use was the middle one aimed directly at the bar’s owner.  After that, I had to wait for a notification text to tell me my beers would soon be delivered to my table. Shortly thereafter a disinterested individual placed my beer down on the table and reminded me I could provide a tip in cash if I wanted.  I thought that was really human of her. 

When I decided to order a second beer, I had to place a whole new order online. It felt more like ordering takeout at my favorite Chinese restaurant, No Mo Tofu, than hanging out at a bar.  I admit it is possible that I socialize in some kind of Luddite bubble, but I’ve never heard one person say they love the new QR code experience.  Well, there was one but he was a computer programmer.  That figures.  I once asked him how many programmers it takes to change a light bulb.  He said, “None, that’s a hardware problem.”  I didn’t get it.

My second beer was a can from a brewery that was unknown to me. The order page had an area for comments.  I wrote “Do Not Open – I want to check the date first”.  No one wants a stale beer. For a second, I thought that maybe technology would finally help since that was a concise, clear message.  The server arrived with the can, instantly opened it, and quickly poured it into a glass.  It all happened so fast I couldn’t stop him.  He said, “I saw your glass was empty and figured you’d want another one asap”.  I said, "now why would I want another empty glass?”  I thought listening to that joke was fair payback.   

From what I’ve seen most QR codes lead to menus that already exist on the establishment's website and sometimes even to their home page making you navigate their entire site to get to the needed page. It’s like putting an extra couple of doors between your living room and your bathroom when you really, really, have to go.  In fact, add another “really” to that.

The only potentially good thing about all this QR stuff is that it makes it easier to go out for a few beers with a group of friends who might have otherwise struggled with splitting a check.  That would clearly end the practice of one guy saying let’s just divide the bill equally after he’s had three glasses of Bourbon County Stout to everyone else’s half pint of Yuengling. As a bonus, it’s likely preempted awkward conversations with guys on dates about who’s getting the bill.  Of course, that’s not a problem for real traditional, old-school gentlemen like me who always pay the entire bill.  Such generosity however doesn’t insure a good outcome. A date once walked out on me for being too old fashioned. I was surprised, I thought we had good alchemy.

QR codes lack character, as do rotating beer lists on a screen.  Physical beer menus actually say something about the place, whether they’re chalked onto a blackboard over the bar, snapped onto a letter board, handed out by the sheet to each new drinker, or laminated and tucked under a crystal vase holding a lovely flower (I don’t go to those bars).  Maybe the thing they say is we’re real people who enjoy the pleasure of beer just like you.  And if the menu is a bit sticky or has cross outs for just kicked beers then simply count that as quirky, fun parts of what makes drinking out worthwhile.

Unfortunately, QR codes are usually free to generate and probably easier for pub management to deal with than physical menus.  That just might mean they’re here to stay. Our only hope then, is a collective outcry from we the people.  All beer folks, from Coors Light fans to Cicerones, to beer judges, to craft geeks, to zero alcohol beer drinkers (well, maybe not them) must join together, now, to fight against that Satan’s grid before it’s too late.

Let's shout it together, loud and proud - FU QR.

-------------------------

Almost forgot, the answer to the quiz.  Phantasm Powder is really pulverized freeze-dried Sauvignon Blanc grapes. that bring intense tropical fruit flavor and aroma to beer. The crime fighting Phantom used it in his award winning home brew, the Phantom’s Phantasm.

May The Zen Be With You 

by Vince Capano

Legendary basketball coach Phil Jackson wrote a book entitled “Eleven Rings”.  Now before you say you’re surprised a basketball coach could write anything coherent, never mind an entire book (without pictures no less) be aware that there's a co-author. In the small print on the cover it says “and…” – wait, if your name is in print that small, I don’t care who you are.  Anyway, each ring represents an NBA championship.  It’s no surprise then that Mr. Jackson not only holds the record for most titles but has the highest winning percentage of any NBA coach in history.  The book was a #1 NY Times best seller when it came out 8 years ago, though I only now have read it.  I know I’m a slow reader but nobody’s that slow.  It’s just that I found it at a garage sale last week. Even with a few torn pages it was a better deal than the broken lamp I almost bought.

Mr. Jackson’s nickname is the “Zen Master” so if you guessed the book somehow is really about Zen through the prism of hoops you’d be right. After all, who doesn’t write a book about Zen and basketball nowadays? Early in the book a famous Zen verse is quoted: "First, mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers.  Then mountains are not mountains and rivers are not rivers.  Finally, mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers."  According to Phil, that means at first, we accept the nature of rivers and mountains because we haven't thought deeply about them.  Once we do, we see that they are not as we thought.  However, once we see their true nature, then we understand their essence and "rivers are rivers and mountains are mountains" once again.  He says that insight (huh?) has to do with the Buddhist concept of the two truths (that cleared it up).  It's a circle, but we arrive back at our starting point with a transformed view.  I’m not too impressed since I get that same dizzy feeling after a few pints of Triple IPA.

All that philosophizing did however get me thinking that a bit of Zen can apply to beer.  You're right, I admit it.  I couldn’t think of a good topic this month, zen I came up with this.  Actually, it was the circle part in which we arrive back at our starting point with a transformed view that got me thinking.  Well, it was that and three bottles of Miller High Life followed by two ice cold Rolling Rocks dutifully served to me at a dive bar called Johnnies Tavern.  Who would have ever guessed that along with over a dozen macro lagers on tap and more in the cooler, Johnnies also serves a bit of Zen?  Probably not even Johnnie.

Johnnies is considered one of the best dive bars in the area.  I’m still not sure if that means it’s the best because it’s the worst or if it’s the other way around.  Normally I would never go to a place like Johnnies since I’m an official Craft Beer Aficionado (for the doubters out there, I have a certificate from BeerNexus to prove it. And it cost plenty) but this time I had no choice. 

My regular Saturday group, the Beer Hunting Adventure Coalition, met at a central location at 3 PM.   The club’s Itinerary Planner picked a place called River of Beer as our first stop.  Come on, how bad could a place be with a name like that?  It was a winner for sure. Oceans of Beer might have been more accurate as they had two floors with 35 total taps pouring outstanding craft beer.  Woo-ha!

After a few pints at River, the Planner announced our next stop. At that an audible gasp spontaneously filled the room. That’s gasp, not gas.  Hey, this is a mannerly group.  We all shuddered when we heard those two fateful words; “Johnnies Tavern”.  Like all serious craft drinkers, we had memorized a list of places never go to and Johnnies led the pack.  It’s totally logical – if you know where they have good beer you should know where they have bad beer.  Protests were not allowed by the group’s bylaws, so it was off to Johnnies.  Most of the 25 seats at the bar were taken by people drinking a  glass of Bud and a shot of Tullamore Dew (the $5 special – Johnnies doesn’t do inflation), with others knocking down pints from breweries beginning with every letter of the alphabet ranging inclusively from B to C 

I looked around and marveled at these people truly enjoying their beer flavored with beer.  It was old, old school for sure.  Thinking back, I remembered the days when I enjoyed Miller, Schlitz, Ballantine, and Rhinegold.  While getting them with a fake ID might have had something to do with the fun, I did truly like drinking them.  So, what changed? It seems the process of developing a palate is evolutionary.  I’m guessing that even the geekest of beer geeks began their beer life with a mass market lager and somehow reached the end point of only wanting a Westvleteren 12.  That journey is as old as craft brewing.  It's the drinkers’ sacred quest to reach the mountaintop—the apex of beer knowledge.  But Phil had me thinking there might be more even after that.

The singular greatness of craft is what dominates the philosophical and theoretical structure of our beer lives. But who said that framework is the ultimate end of the journey?  No, you don’t have to answer, that was a rhetorical question.  I once tried crossing a rhetorical question with a joke but ended up with something that had no punchline.  Anyway, the answer is: not Phil Jackson.  In fact, he doesn’t say anything about beer in the book.  I like to think he would have if he ever drank it instead of that oh so expensive Scotch he favored. I don’t drink Scotch anymore though it has less calories and carbs than beer.  One time, to reduce my beer belly, I went on a Scotch diet.  I lost a few days.

As craft drinkers learn about beer, they logically conclude that one style is superior to another style.  That ever-increasing sophistication in the ways of the beer world naturally leads them to enjoy certain types of beer more than others.  In this prescription, the preferred beer is almost always the more intense one.  For example, Double IPAs and Belgian abbey ales are more intense than light lagers so therefore they naturally and innately are deemed superior by beer folks.  That is born out when you look at how people rate beers on Untappd, Beer Advocate, and other such platforms.  For the record, I exclude higher ABV beers from this discussion since we already know that the higher ones are always the better ones, which is likely Phil’s reason for drinking Scotch.

The true Zen of beer appreciation is the ability to locate the sublime in any style (not, of course, any beer).  This means being able to pick up a glass of helles , English mild, Belgian Dubel or even a mass market lager and finding the flavors in each as pleasant and satisfying as when you heft a barrel-aged imperial stout.  It really is possible (please play along, I’m trying to earn a living here). You have to fine-tune your palate to appreciate the difference between, for example, a helles that has dull, simple malt flavors and one that has rich, fresh, and complex malt flavors.  There is great joy in recognizing the presence of subtle esters, inhaling the gentle scent of a particular hop, experiencing the lovely harmony of multiple flavors working together.  It's reveling in a deep pleasure from drinking the beer itself that makes it great.  Oh my, I think I’m going to cry.

On my first day in the Beer Judge Certification Program course, the instructor gave each of the 30 students a glass of Budweiser. After a chorus of boos and laughter died down, he asked for comments. “This is garbage”, “terrible”, “colored water”, “no taste”, “bad” were some of the non-four-letter word descriptors offered.  He then asked each of us to use the official BJCP scoresheet and write down a rating for it using their scale of 0 to 50.  Why beer judges use a best score of 50 and not 100 is beyond me.  My guess is they always see their glass as half empty because at heart they’re pessimists.  I’m the opposite. In fact, I recently put my application in to join the Optimist Club.......but I don’t think I’m going to get accepted.

The instructor waved his hand for silence and asked people to read out their score.  He went around the room with a 12 being the highest.  When he asked me, I wisely opined, “whatever you wrote down”.  I don’t think he got the joke.  When everyone was done, he held up his score – fifty.  I was the only one in the class who got it right.  He explained that as an American Light Lager, Budweiser is just about perfect.  It is what it is supposed to be: a beer to appeal to as broad a range of the general public as possible with no strong flavors. He kept explaining but I admit to not really paying attention.  After beating that trick question, I already knew I’d pass the class with ease.  Besides, I could always, ah, borrow, a few quiz answers from the two guys I was sitting between.  They were obviously experienced, knowledgeable home brewers.  They both had big beards.

I stayed alone after the class to think.  Well, that and to finish off the remnants of a leftover twelve pack of Bud that no one else wanted.  It was then I realized that beer appreciation is not linear; it's circular.  First you love beer naively, out of a simple joy.  Then your head gets filled with a bunch of stuff about what's "good" and you begin disliking beer out of a semi-blind prejudice.  Finally, you come back to appreciating beer for its own nature.  And conversely, that appreciation makes you aware that many “serious” beers are not well made, lacking the harmony and integration that are the hallmarks of the good ones in any style. 

 It may sound a bit simplistic but until I was able to appreciate all beer styles, my journey through the world of beer was not yet complete. And then I went to Johnnies and was enlightened by the true Zen of beer. Because of that visit I can now say with humble understanding that in their essence, rivers are rivers, mountains are mountains, and beers are…….beers.

Take a deep breath. Feel the air expand your lungs and diaphragm. Pause for a second. Now, as you exhale, yell it loud and proud: “Whassuuuuuuup?!”  Ah, you gotta love it. Now try to remember what beer commercial that was from.  I knew you’d get it, especially if you were old enough to drink Budweiser (not that you'd want to) back in 1999.  It was such a cultural powerhouse. that Budweiser’s parent company Anheuser-Busch InBev, believing in the catchphrase’s nostalgic force, rebooted the “Whassup” commercials with a pandemic-related message in 2020—with smartphones instead of landlines (formerly called tin cans on a string).  

Major advertising campaigns, especially for beer, generally do not present logical arguments and claims for their products. Whassuuuuuuup with that? Instead, they seek to associate their product with evocative images and themes.  It’s about fads, celebrities, popular tastes, and meaningless trivia.  To put it another way, beer commercials were memes before there were memes.  Consider, if you will, that it is thanks to Budweiser that we know what a Clydesdale is.  Without their ads the only thing we’d probably say about one is that it’s one really, really big horse.

If you’re a beer commercial historian or a drinker of a certain age you likely remember Bubba Smith and Dick Butkus arguing that eternal debate about Miller Lite: "Tastes Great--Less Filling."  Unfortunately, neither option was entirely true about that beer.  Have one and you’ll see what I mean. Those fun Miller Lite commercials featured a universe of stars not just from the major sports but from less well-known competitive activities like bowling and billiards, an author (Mickey Spillane), a sportswriter (Sports Illustrated’s Frank Deford), and a comedian (Rodney Dangerfield).  For the record, Rodney loved beer, as he once explained: “My doctor told me to watch my beer drinking. Now I drink in front of a mirror.”

Other, perhaps even older beer drinkers can still whistle that infectious jingle, "Hey Mabel--Black Label," though the television commercials it came from have not aired for 30 years.  And think back to when everyone wanted a dog like Spuds McKenzie, the most popular Bull Terrier ever.  That’s unless Snoopy was a Bull Terrier of course.   Unlike Spuds, and despite his universal popularity, Snoopy never made a beer commercial.  The only Snoopy commercials I can recall are his ones for Met Life.  The insurance giant eventually ditched the beloved Charles Schulz character in favor of a new, not so frivolous (or entertaining), spokesperson. When that happened, I not only wrote an angry email to MetLife, I also categorially refused to buy any beer they made.  Okay, I do admit that’s not much of a sacrifice since they don’t make any, but if they ever did, they can scratch one customer.   That’ll show them.

Of all those long-gone beer commercials my favorite was The Most Interesting Man ones with the set up and closing lines of "I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer Dos Equis," and "Stay thirsty, my friends." Just how interesting was The Most Interesting Man? Well, he was really.... interesting.  If he were to mail a letter without postage, it would still get there, he once had an awkward moment just to see how it feels, his shirts never wrinkle, and he has won the lifetime achievement award… twice.

The Most Interesting Man was a bearded, debonair older gentleman with a great voice, a vaguely foreign accent, and a cultured, elegant demeanor.  Hey, except for the debonair, cultured, great voice, elegant, and being a gentleman parts, that’s an exact description of me!  I could have easily played the part instead of that actor (Jon Goldsmith) from Brooklyn.  I would have done it on the cheap too – a lifetime supply of Dos Equis.  Wait, I would lose on that deal since a six pack would be all I could handle of that tepid stuff.  

So, what made those classic beer commercials great?  The breweries would say the great commercials are the ones that sell the most beer, fun or not.  After all, that’s why they were made in the first place.  On the other hand, we consumers think the best ones are those that get us to laugh, preferably without beer coming out our nose.  While beer is at least good for us, I've noticed that most food commercials that make you laugh are usually selling a product that can't possibly be good for you (fast food, doughnuts, candy).  Some would say that the best defense against a funny food commercial is to go ahead and buy the product--and the joke's soon on you (usually around the abdomen).

Great beer ads can even penetrate our popular culture. They become part of the collective psyche of everyone from beer nerds to teetotalers as people muse over them with friends, coworkers, and random drinkers at the local watering hole.   They can sometimes even help in an awkward situation.   More than once a stranger struck up an unwanted conversation with me at a bar.  That’s my cue to ask if they know the slogan: ‘When you say Budweiser, you’ve said it all’?” The answer is always yes.  Then I just say “Budweiser” and walk away.  If the person doesn’t get the hint, I go with the venerable ad slogan, “Busch Beer. Head for the mountains”, leaving out the Busch Beer.

Lately however beer commercials don’t seem to be as much fun as they were or even as prevalent.  Maybe it's because of Covid or the baseball lockout or the fact I never got my broken TV repaired.  Hard to believe but I actually miss seeing those Bud Light’s “Dilly Dilly” spots.  They ran for years and created a spin-off campaign featuring the “Bud Knight.”  If you watched carefully the Bud Knight put a lot of weight on during the run of those commercials, so much so, his brother knights began to call him Sir Cumference.  Hey, don’t boo me;  you knew that was coming.

Interestingly, between 2019 and 2021, beer TV commercial minutes on ESPN, CBS Sports, Fox Sports 1, and ESPN2 declined -18% while airings declined -4%.  Three years ago, those networks broadcast 19,399 minutes of beer commercials. Last year, the total was 15,965 minutes. The conclusion seems to be that that beer commercials’ influence is fading.  And while I acknowledge statistics mean never having to say you’re certain and that 97.314 % of all statistics are made up, in this case they are totally accurate. I found them on the Internet. I rest my case. 

When you think of the greatest football dynasties of all-time, the 1970s Pittsburgh Steelers, 1980s San Francisco 49ers, 1990s Dallas Cowboys and 2000s New England Patriots likely come to mind mainly because they won Super Bowls, which in addition to being a football game, is beer’s marketing crown jewel. As such, you’d have to include another, uh, less human team in that group that dominated its competition in unbelievable fashion: Budweiser. From 1989-1997, the self-anointed "King of Beers" dominated Anheuser-Busch's Bud Bowl, the yearly clash between animated bottles of Bud and Bud Light.  Note to those who lost money wagering on the outcome.  Vince McMahon wrote the scripts.  Bud always won. The fix was in. 

Big beer spent loads on TV ads in this year’s Super Bowl.  Budweiser alone bought spots for six of its brands—focusing on Bud Light Seltzer Hard Soda and Cutwater Spirits, a canned cocktail line.  Oops, did they forget about the King himself?  By the way, a 30 second commercial on this year’s Super Bowl cost over $6 million.  If you sneezed, went to the bathroom, or picked up the pizza slice you dropped on the floor, you missed a massive expenditure.  Don’t worry.  It could have been worse.  You might have missed a wardrobe malfunction during the halftime show.

It seems that beer companies’ audience for TV commercials isn’t only consumers—it’s beer distributors. You know those folks who are the middlemen in the three tiered system.  With some exceptions, all beer, wine, and spirits must be sold by their supplier (a brewery or winery or an importer) to a wholesaler (a distributor), who sells those beverages to a retailer (a bar, restaurant, supermarket, or bottle shop), who then sells them to you (hi there). I like to think of it as the three tier profit system: markup, markup, and markup.  As a bonus, the process gives each group someone to blame for high prices, selling old, stale beer, not stocking new breweries, or having 2/3 of their shelves packed with hard seltzer.  It’s enough to make you long for the good old days when a brewery could get prime shelf space in a store’s cooler with some smooth talking, indisputable logic, and an envelope of cash.

We’ve all seen thousands of beer commercials in our time but how many do you recall where any of the actors actually take a sip of alcohol?   This custom of not showing that sip has created the widespread belief that drinking in commercials is banned or even illegal.  The fact is that there are no government regulations that prevent advertisers from showing people drinking beer on television, yet most producers avoid it. Some call it industry self regulation. It all stems from traditional guidelines that date back to the end of prohibition. You remember Prohibition, don’t you? It was a decade that makes you want to cry into your beer while it denies you the beer to cry into.  Making matters worse, Prohibition created a criminal element, though in retrospect Al Capone might have had some insight into the hypocrisy of it all when he said, “when I sell liquor, it’s called bootlegging; when my customers serve it on Lake Shore Drive, it’s called hospitality.”  

Not only has entertainment moved online and to streaming services, alcohol advertising has followed them there. The rise of e-commerce, largely thanks to COVID, has clearly drawn beer brands to digital spaces. That will only serve to further diminish their use of TV screens where have long been comfortable. Sadly, that means there’s no doubt we’re long past the golden age of TV beer ads.  I’m reminded of that every time I take out my old VHS tape of “Greatest Beer Commercials”. Of course, I can’t play it; come on, who has a tape player that works?  I just look at the cover and sigh.

WRITE IT DOWN

by Vince Capano

More than a few smirks and giggles arise every time I’m sitting at a brewery or pub and take out a pad and pen to write down what beer I’m having along with a few tasting notes.  That’s older than old school.  While some might think that shows I’m so old I can remember when emojis were called hieroglyphics they of course would be wrong.  I do however admit that the older I get the earlier it gets late.

When I first started note taking, I used bar napkins.  They were convenient, fit nicely in my pocket, and most importantly, were free.  You’d be surprised how much information you could write on one despite its small size.  Of course, I had to write around and over many logos, names, and sayings.  There were a few however I just couldn’t bring myself to despoil like the ones that said, “Be Yourself…Somewhere Else”, “Enjoy alcohol, sometimes the truth needs a laxative”, “Cinco De Drinko”, and “A good beer starts and ends with a smile.”  The process worked quite well until one time when I began to sneeze and reached into the wrong pocket. One ah-choo wiped out three weeks of notes.  After that I went to small note pads, three for a buck at the Dollar Store.  I wrote their cost off as a deduction on my income tax. Hey, I don’t mind paying my fair share but there’s no law that says you have to leave a tip.

It’s clear that I’m not the only one who likes to record the different beers drank. For many, a simple list is enough. Some, like me, need more; things like a quality rating, flavor highlights, and a refill for my glass.  Technology enabled folks rely on Untappd, a phone app.  They give their beer a ubiquitous 4 rating and move on for another badge.  That’s all well and good but it’s worth going deeper and writing more detailed information. And even if those notes are less than legible, at least you’ll know you were drinking beer and not at a meeting of The Teetotalers’ International Prohibition Appreciation Society. 

Who should write down tasting notes? It is essential if you’re studying to become a drink professional. Be aware however that’s not the same as a professional drinker.  No notes are required for that status though a strong liver is mandatory. Almost everyone here at BeerNexus qualifies in both categories.  Truthfully, when drinking beer, most of my Nexus colleagues do pick up a pen or their phone.  One thing they never pick up is the bill. 

Even if you’re not that serious about beer, tasting notes can lead to a deeper enjoyment of that wonderful beverage. That in turn will lead you to drinking more which is good for you, especially your brain.  Really.  New research done with rats claims that a compound, xanthohumol, found in ales and lagers is the reason.  According to the study, xanthohumol caused young mice to show “a significant improvement in cognitive flexibility.”  It’s the power and magic of beer!  There might be a small catch, however.  The report ended by saying that to get the same amount of xanthohumol the mice received, you’d have to drink 2,000 pints of beer a day. I’m choosing to believe the first part of their research but not the latter.  I’m no dummy.  Of course, some of you might disagree and say all my beer drinking is slowly killing my brain cells.  That’s okay, I’m not in any hurry.

There’s probably a connection between writing your own insightful tasting notes and your ability to read and understand professional beer reviews, especially those in English.  I used to scoff at most reviews I saw since they were usually for beers I never heard of or couldn’t get.  Then I realized that by reading those reviews I was gaining beer knowledge and improving my descriptive vocabulary. That has helped me to better describe a beer’s flavor.  Now I can  readily throw out terms like worn down crayon, partially thawed asparagus, fresh wax lips, dried elephant pee, hair in a dirty drain, sugar coated Spam, and char-grilled turnip to describe a beer.  And do it with a straight face.

Now I know that you’re thinking tasting notes can be boring. In general, I agree.  Reading them can be an invitation to a nap.  And there’s nothing more dull, dreary, and dismal than watching some pompous "expert" on youtube do it as they stop to slurp and chew their way to the next adjective. Of course, none of that applies to your own notes. I guarantee they will be entertaining and interesting.  Just consider the author.

Putting your impressions down on paper will help you to talk about beer flavors in a consistent way.  That may sound inconsequential but it’s important if you want to figure out which beers taste like one another. That will let you better predict which you'll like or dislike and understand why.  One of the things I learned from my notes is never to buy a beer featuring hops that begin with a Z.  That’s Zlathan, Zythos, Zorro, and Zeppo hops.  They just don’t work for me.  I’ve had to dump so many beers that used those hops that it carried over to eating alphabet soup. I always take out every Z, except one.  Without it how could I ever spell zymurgy?  As a beer guy I was always proud a word that meant fermentation was the last one in the dictionary.  However, in new editions it’s been beaten out by “Zyzzyva”, a sort of weevil from South America.  I now only use the old dictionary and make regular contributions to the Pest Control Council of Brazil, the most ferocious of all Zyzzyva fighters.

Writing tasting notes also has benefits you might never guess.  It improves your observational skills, by making you look at your beer in a detailed and systematic way. No longer will you embarrassingly mistake a Bud Seltzer for a Guinness Export Stout.  It helps you to put nonverbal sensations into words.  Caveat: that skill will be unless if you are a professional mime.  And it can be a memory enhancer since the act of writing notes down is a form of mental exercise.  That is a bit of a two-edged sword however, since you have to drink beer to take notes and some studies have shown that drinking a lot of beer can cause memory loss.  Drinking a lot of beer can cause memory loss.

Saying you’re not good at writing is a very weak excuse for not taking notes.  Look, you’re not trying to write anything as involved as the descriptions on the back of a beer bottle.  The people who did that are professionals who even with their significant skill took several years to create the Government Warning label. You however only need to jot down a few things.  After all. the notes are by you for you.  No one else will ever see them unless you’re caught up in a Freedom of Information suit along with documents about who really was behind the Grassy Knoll. What matters is that you simply write a few words about your impression of the beer.  And please do not tell me you don’t do impressions.

It’s a good idea to settle on some kind of format.  Consistently using the same categories will let you more easily compare one beer to another and one brewery to another. Here’s what I generally write down - any off flavors, how many IBUs, would I buy it again, the date I’m drinking it, the brewery name, the beer's name, the style, the format (can, bottle, draft), where I’m drinking it, and the ABV.  Especially the ABV (don't expect a winner if it has less alcohol than your mouthwash).  And if someone other than me paid for the beer –bless’em- I dutifully write their name down.  That doesn’t mean I’ll buy them one back the next time, but I will put them on my Christmas card list. 

Now that you have all those notes you should organize them in some way.  It will give you the illusion you’re actually accomplishing something.  I put all mine on a spreadsheet proving my tech savviness isn’t limited to knowing how to use a rotary phone.  As for the old napkins and notebooks themselves, I put them in envelopes that have been hermetically sealed, then placed into mayonnaise jars which are then hidden under my porch.  That may sound a bit elaborate but that way I’ll still have those irreplaceable notes when an electromagnetic pulse from space  incapacitates all the world’s computers and destroys Untappd.  

Then all drinkers will come to me for guidance.  EMPs, you see, do not affect paper….or beer.

What Not To Say  by Vince Capano

Recently I was comfortably ensconced at the legendary Libertine Pub when someone who will remain unnamed since he should know better, asked me to recommend a beer.  Easy peasy.  Quickly mumbling the name of a beer on tap I added a few vague comments about the beer’s taste and went back to my pint.  The person, showing even less regard for getting a real answer than before, interrupted me again asking for a further explanation.  Rather than waste both our time with even more general generalities I simply said, “buy it; if you don’t like it I’ll drink it.” A genius move by me of course since I wound up enjoying the beer and it was on his tab.

That incident got me thinking about just how to tell someone what a beer tastes like in terms that would actually help them.  After some headache inducing, exceptionally deep thinking for two full seconds, I gave up.  Ah, but that led me to true insight: it might be more important to know what I shouldn’t tell them.  So, while my beer explanations usually serve to maximize misunderstandings (sometimes even unintentionally) I was ready to turn over a new leaf, or in this case, beer mat.

So as a public service to beer drinkers, beer influencers, beer bartenders, beer retailers, beer salesmen, beer traders, beer servers, and guys selling beer out of the trunk of their car, here’s a tidy list to memorize.

1.   Don’t tell someone a beer is “hoppy”. Yes, hops are a primary ingredient in beer, but the term hoppy doesn’t reveal much at all about it. I understand why people want to use that word but it’s like saying wine is grapey, butter is buttery, or the sand is sandy. The word hoppy is too broad and not very descriptive of a beer despite the fact it works well with Peter Cottontail and Hopalong Cassidy.  

Instead, when under severe pressure to say something worthwhile, you should paint a clearer picture of the flavors and aromas the hops impart.   For example, if someone tells you a beer is hoppy, follow Socrates’ teaching methods and ask, “Is it citrusy, piney, floral, fruity, or woody? Does it taste like mango, peach, melon, grapefruit or pineapple or something else? Is it bitter or does it have a touch of sweetness?”.  You’ll enjoy seeing more than a few alleged beer “experts” squirm trying to come up with an answer.  If they start saying they get exotic flavors like Durian, Rambutan, and Jabuticaba don’t be too impressed.  Knowledge is knowing those are all fruits; wisdom is not wanting them in a beer.

2.  Don’t tell someone a beer is “light”.  The only thing that’s light in this case is your beer vocabulary.  Clearly, a macro brand co-opted that word decades ago to their good fortune (literally) making the word forever linked to low-calorie, low ABV, “quality pilsner” beer.  By the way, I include seltzer in the light beer category.  It only makes sense since that’s how Bud Light Seltzer was invented.  They simply added the word seltzer.  Try it and you’ll see what I mean.  Besides. does “light” mean light in color, light in mouthfeel, light in weight?  To answer that last question scientifically, I once dropped a pint of light beer and a pint of a Belgium Quad off the top of the Empire State Building at the same time to see which would hit the ground first.  Turned out it was a pound of feathers.

You can properly describe light beer as being pale for its color, a beer that you can drink most of the day and night, one that has fewer carbs, or one that has few traces of bitterness (or anything else).  If confusion remains explain that if a can of beer ever falls on their foot they’ll be happy it’s a light beer.  (Sorry)

3.   Don’t tell someone a beer is “dark”.  The only thing that means is that your beer vocabulary is a tad dark. Wait, that doesn’t work.  I thought I could slip in the exact same paragraph as above just changing light to dark and save having to do any thinking.  Oh well.  New start: on the opposite end of the spectrum is the equally confusing color descriptor dark.  The term itself is clear; it’s a misnomer, as people associate dark color with high ABV and high calories. I don’t know who those people are but they’re not candidates for Jeopardy if they don’t realize that a dark beer doesn’t always equal high gravity (good) or high caloric content (not so good).  If that were true, how was I able survive all those wonderful Guinness stouts each St. Patrick’s Day? To be honest, for me and millions of others around the world, every day is St. Patrick’s Day.  With so many people celebrating, it’s no surprise that an estimated 263,719 pints of Irish stout go to waste every year via facial hair. According to scientists, .56 milliliters of Guinness is trapped in a beard or mustache with each sip. And it takes about 10 sips to finish a pint.  That statistic comes directly from Guinness.  Once I read that I immediately shaved.  I’m not getting cheated out of a drop.

Of course, there are other dark beers that are low in both ABV and calories. Consider black lagers and Schwarzbiers.  I know nobody likes them, but they do exist. These styles are brewed with chocolate malt that gives them a brown or black hue and are usually around 5% ABV.  However, unlike Guinness they are not infused with nitrogen.  I once saw a bartender explain just that to a rude customer who said he found nitrogen in beer disgusting.  The bartender must not have cared about his tip for then he told the guy about air.

4.   Sour is another word that is too vague and broad to say much about a beer. Save it to describe people.  Sour, by definition, is specific in that it tells us there’s a high level of acid in the liquid and that it was likely either kettle-soured or fermented with some combination of Brettanomyces yeast and Lactobacillus or Pediococcus or Sillyohsillus bacteria. (Time out for a quick quiz: which one of those did I make up? It’s a silly question I guess).

All of that boring information, however, doesn’t tell us anything about how it tastes. That’s what drinkers want to know so they can have a reason for not liking it.  To me it’s all very confusing. Even the Beer Judge Certification Program (BJCP) guidelines don’t differentiate sour and tart flavors and leading brewers of sours don’t agree on nomenclature.  Of course, a few beer drinkers say that regardless of its name, sour beer, while not hazardous to your health, was never intended for human consumption. Unfortunately, when it comes to those folks evaluating beer it seems cluelessness is not a handicap.

Sour beers come in many styles including Gose, Berliner Weisse, Lambic and Flanders Red Ale. The wild yeast used in brewing them introduces a certain level of unpredictability into the brewing process.  That fact allowed me to call my last two rotten IPA homebrews “sours” in semi-good conscience.

The general rule of thumb is that all Goses are sours, but not all sours are Goses. That’s the way sours goses, I guess. And note they are not to be confused with guez; get it?

5.   Saying a beer has a “funky” taste is meaningless enough to drive the listener to the dictionary to see just what it means.  I did just that, It said, “unpleasant or musty odor”.  Hey, that sounds so good let me buy two cases of it.  It will perfectly compliment my plate of Camembert, Limburger, and the ever-popular Epoisse de Bourgogne, which by the way, is unfairly banned on French public transport due to its pungency.  It is however definitely not banned on the New York City subway since no one could pick it out from all the other foul smells.

 Funky has a whole host of other negative connotations with barnyard, horse sweat, rotting anchovies, and hay wet with urine being the most common.  So instead of funky, I suggest it’s best to use positive terms like overripe tropical fruits. toasted pineapple, pie crust, just mowed grass. fallen leaves, and of course, rich Corinthian leather.  Now that’s funky.

6.   Major hop-heads like me despise “malty” beers but saying that is rather fuzzy (that’s the malty part, not the hatred).  I know you believe you understand what I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant.  Don’t get me wrong, I realize that malt is essential to beer.  It provides the sugars that are fermented by the yeast to create alcohol.  Without alcohol in beer, it’s not beer despite the wackos that buy things like Heineken 0.0, Clausthaler, and Budweiser Zero.  And for the record when people say you don’t need real beer to have fun, remind them that you don’t need shoes to walk but it sure helps. 

Admittedly malty flavors can mean nice things like nuts, toffee, caramel, bread, toast, sweetness, dough, biscuits, crackers, chocolate, dark dried fruits, and honey.  Put them in the right combination and you can get deliciously complex brews like Gulden Draak. St. Bernardus Abt 12 and Dogfish Head Raison d’Etre. Good stuff for sure but for many others, their flavor is missing one thing – hops.  In addition to the flavor hops bring they also lessen the damaging effects of alcohol on the liver.  That heartwarming information comes from a new study with mice. To reach their conclusion researchers gave mice a regular beer with hops and a malt bomb with next to none. For complete transparency the study said that the only way they could get the mice to drink the beer was by giving them their favorite cheese - Mouseralla.  Hey, don’t blame me, I’m just reporting it.

7.   Let’s also stop using the meaningless, mindless madness of “drinkable”, “quaffable”, and even “sessionable”.  Those terms are for people who want to talk about beer without saying anything. Saying a beer is "drinkable" is like getting a delicious pizza and calling it "eatable." It's true, but it sure sounds vacuous.  Calling something “quaffable” or "sessionable" just makes a person sound like they’re trying to justify drinking beer at 9 AM on a weekday. Hey, there's no justification needed for that.

Oops, I left out “crushable”  It’s the same as "sessionable," but it is the preferred descriptive word of choice at frat parties, millennial gatherings, and intramural cornhole tournaments.  Those places are hotbeds for adding "able" to multiple beer terms.  I suggest you do not try that at your local dive beer bar or a meeting of the Followers of Saint Bibulous.  Why put yourself in physical peril if you don't have to?

If after all this you’re still confused about how to properly explain what a beer tastes like it’s best to follow the words of wisdom uttered by Charlie Chan in the 1936 film classic Charlie Chan in Shanghai – “Silence best answer when uncertain”.

Then, Now, and Beyond  by Vince Capano

As the new year begins it might be time to think back to those thrilling days of yesterday, a new, fresh, craft beer in hand, filled and refilled, a feeling of pure adventure and a hearty sip, sip, sip.  With a faithful drinking companion alongside, you were a daring and resourceful rider on the beer frontier, leading the fight for quality in early days of craft. Return with me now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. Craft beer rides again!  Note – please read that paragraph again but with this music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIbYCOiETx0) in the background.  Makes a difference, doesn’t it? And for those aficionados of old-time radio and early TV that is indeed the Lone Ranger theme.  Who could ask for a better hero in these still dreary Covid days than the Ranger?  He wore a mask all the time and never complained.

To put it simply, back in the day craft beer was fun.  Sam Adams was uniquely special, Brooklyn Brown was to die for, and Fritz Maytag was making a beer that tasted nothing like the liquid in his washing machines. At its core, beer was (and is) about enjoyment and those early adherents to craft knew it.  They were cutting edge drinkers, boldly going where few had ever gone before.  Without those early adopters of craft we all still would be debating if Miller is better than Coors or Bud is better than Schlitz.  Thinking back, with no taste stuff like that beer pong was the only thing keeping the industry alive

It’s a shame that no major craft brewery has put a statue in front of their tasting room honoring those groundbreaking pioneers of drinking craft.  Don’t they realize that without we drinkers there is no beer industry? I guess I shouldn’t be too upset at that.  A lot of great people never received a statue in their honor.  For example, Anheuser who said to Busch “Let’s call it Budweiser, Aquafina is already taken.”  Never got a statue.  Adolph Coors’ nephew who said, “I don’t put an orange a beer often, except once in a Blue Moon”.  Never got a statue. Or Michael Jackson’s manager who once said, “give up the glove, start beer hunting”.  Never got a statue.

Everyone loves beer, except of course for the people who don’t.  The lovers say beer presents a fun experience no matter a person's background, level of knowledge, or how annoying the criticisms from beer super snob buddies may be.  They can even have fun drinking a 40 oz. can of  "malt liquor" with or without taking it out of the brown paper bag.  As the iconic beer celebrity Zane Lamprey said, “drinking can be easy”.  Quick aside –nowadays every celebrity seems to have some sort of brewery or distillery.  There’s Casamigos Tequila – George Clooney, Aviation Gin – Ryan Reynolds, Kelsey Grammar - Faith American Ale, Stone Cold Steve Austin - Broken Skull Pale Ale (he used to own a Cold Stone Creamery which he called Stone Cold’s Cold Stone), and many others.  The one celebrity black wolf is Michael Bublé who is now promoting Bubly’s Sparkling Water.  He got the idea when he did a screen test as the next 007 and said, “the name’s Bond,.... Hydrogen bond."   

And no, you can’t stop reading now.

When craft was a mere sparkle in Jim Koch’s eye, American beers were ruled by brands that are now either dead and gone, drastically enfeebled, or -- in a few improbable cases -- still thriving today. There were brands like Ballantine, founded in 1840 in Newark, NJ.  Their Burton Ale made in the late 1940s remains a revered classic to most every beer hunter.  Today the brand is owned by Pabst.  That says it all.  There was Rhinegold, the German-American brand that I never tasted due to being underage (“never” might be a bit of an exaggeration).  I only knew about the brand because of its Miss Rheingold contest which was done with the same amount of good taste as the beer.  There was Schafer, which is popularly credited with introducing American drinkers to Germany's lager-style beer, Schaefer held the crown as the country's largest brewery until giving up the ghost to Anheuser in the Seventies. Their slogan “it’s the one beer to have when you’re having more than one” proved to be prophetic since few people had more than one. There were of course countless more “classic” brands.  Suffice to say, many of these brave breweries fought the good fight and in their failures paved the way for an entire second act in local American craft beer-brewing. Cheers to that. 

Let’s nudge ourselves forward to Fritz Maytag in 1965, when he first challenged so-called “fizzy, yellow” macro-beers. with an impressive portfolio of diverse styles that didn’t really exist in America just yet, like Anchor Porter (1972), Christmas Ale (1975), and America’s first IPA, Liberty Ale (1975). He was told by many people his concept would be unprofitable.  It didn’t make any cents.  The fact is that Maytag was so far ahead of his time it took nearly a decade to turn a profit.  Trust me, that’s a long time.  Hey, a decade ago I was young, poor, unappreciated, and underpaid. Today, I’m no longer young.

For years we American beer drinkers were ridiculed by people around the world for guzzling down millions of gallons of bland, watery, homogenous brews.  Those beer rich nations flaunted their brewing success.  It is, however, probably fair to say their brewing achievements really didn’t spoil them.  They were already insufferable.  Still, there is great fun in the irony that today we have overtaken them in craft beer supremacy.  It’s not where you start but where you finish. Sorry Germany, Belgium, and England.  And yes, I’m ignoring the fact that Bud Light is the #1 selling beer in the US with Coors Light at #2.  Why ruin an insightful opinion with facts?

Our nostalgic look back begs the question - what will happen in the world of beer in 2022?  The easiest prediction is that we all will be drinking more than ever before.  Don’t worry, if you don’t, I’ll pick up the slack.  It would also be easy to say that the coming year will see the desires of the beverage-consuming population wax and wane (no relation to the old vaudeville team of the same name), because it will. And it’s even easier to say that craft beer will cost more. A shocking expose will reveal that the reasons for that will be an aluminum can shortage, supply chain weak links, climate change, multiple full moons, changes in the Gulf Stream, a beer shortage caused by the shutdown of the New Jersey Budweiser production plant as investigators search its foundation for Jimmy Hoffa's remains, and the Brewers Association failure to find the lost beer on Amelia Earhart’s airplane. 

Now for the hard predictions.

1.        Every forecast by “industrial professionals” will claim that 2022 will be the year of lager.  They’ve been predicting that for the last 42 years.  I guarantee that impressively incorrect streak will continue. The only way they will be right is if lager changes its name to IPA.  Those are the same folks who looked into their crystal ball last year and predicted beer sales would decline because it would be a winter with a record setting number of blizzards.  Turns out they were using a snow globe.

2.       Official BJCP (Beer Judge Certification Program) requirements will no longer include a 6 month stay at the Russian Institute of Equitable Judging.  Graduates from that lofty institution once gave the Olympic gold medal in figure skating to a Russian athlete who was actually in the parallel bars event. Now, free of mental impairments and Pavlovian conditioning , beer judges will taste an American beer they like and rate it so. The best beer judge will be given the Snow White award as the fairest of them all.

3.       If you don’t know about Untappd, an app that allows users to rate the beers they are drinking, you probably still use a rotary phone.  Untappd has thousands of users and hundreds of thousands of beer ratings given on a scale of 1 to 5.  Inexplicably, the vast majority of ratings run the full gamut from 4 to 4.  The new year will find Untappd users becoming more sophisticated as they realize every beer can’t have the same quality, taste, and level of enjoyment; some will be better, some worse.  As such Untappd users will shock the beer community by expanding their range.  Most ratings will now be 3.9 to 4.1

4.       Sales of hard seltzer – think of it as gluten free water that can get you totally tipsy – will continue to climb at the expense of beer thanks in large part to Millennials who continue to consume staggering amounts of it.  It started when that generation would want to drink a vodka or tequila soda on the beach but were too lazy, entitled, and narcissistic to bring the mixers.  I, of course, mean that in the best possible way.  Therefore, enter seltzers.  I predict that the soft drink industry will lead the fight against these alcoholic interlopers with items like Coke’s Cokdka and Pepsi’s Vodpep.  Each can of those sodas will have a widget of vodka inside that will empty out when the top is opened. Don’t try to figure it out, I already have the patent.

Of course, if I could really predict the future, I’d be at Monte Carlo’s.  Monte is my bookie from the neighborhood.  Yesterday I used my clairvoyance to bet on Rubber Band in the 7th race.  He lost in the stretch.  Then I waged on Pinocchio in the 8th.  He lost by a nose.  Now please don’t let those missteps make you think my beer predictions won’t come true.  They never fail.

When it comes to beer you can call me Hopstradamus.

Top Ten Christmas Gifts  

by Vince Capano

Jingle bells, jingle bells….it’s the most wonderful time of year and I know what you are most concerned about – what to get your favorite BeerNexus writers for Christmas.  I can only speak for myself when I say that I hope this year you folks send me something different.  I already have enough coal to heat the entire town of Fraser, Colorado for the next 6 years.  In fact, I’m thinking of donating my supply of those "gifts" to the town since they get frost year-round, totaling over 300 nights under 32 °F and because it is named after two of my all-time favorite personalities: basketball player, the NBA great, Walt “Clyde” Frazier and Kelsey Grammer’s character on the TV show of the same name, Frasier. 

Sharp eyed readers may have noticed that the town leaders of Fraser cleverly changed the spelling to avoid copyright infringement or confusion with Mr. Grammer’s beer company, Faith American Brewing, or Clyde’s clothing line logically called, “Clyde’s”.  For those who don’t see a conflict let me remind you that all of the 1,042 town citizens wear clothes and drink beer so the problem is obvious. 

I can tell you that I’ve tried the beer and it’s decent but haven’t worn any of Clyde’s clothes.  I’m not tall enough.

It’s easy for someone to say what not to send but much harder to suggest what you should send.  Not to worry readers, doing things the hard way is standard operating procedure here at BeerNexus so let me give you a list of suggestions.  All are actual items and easily found online.  I was going to say “found on Amazon” but they refused to give me a modest honorarium for the free plug so the heck with them.

Anyway, here we go with real Christmas gifts for a real beer lovers:

1.  How many times while playing golf have you said, “I need a cooler to discreetly fit in my golf bag?” Never, I know, but if you did there is an insulated beer sleeve shaped like a club that easily fits 5 cans of beer.  That should be enough to get you through two holes.  But wait, there’s more.  It is equipped with a removable koozie on the strap to safely hold your beer to keep you hands-free to swing the golf club.  Unfortunately, actually playing the game is part of the beer drinking golf experience.  And for those serious players who fear drinking too much beer on the course will hurt their score, let me remind them that there are only three ways to improve your golf game: take lessons, practice constantly… or start cheating.

2.  Every foot craves a sock so how about a pair of beer socks?  The newest version is a “3D beer mug sock”. They're shin-high socks that are made to look like you have filled beer mugs instead of feet, and they even have a cute little fabric mug handle that stick out from the side of each sock.  Genius stuff for sure.  This is no ordinary cheapo sock dotted with little pictures of beer mugs.  It’s so realistic after a few pints you will be tempted to take it off and drink a nightcap.  For safety, the manufacturer recommends you wear shoes when using the socks for mountain climbing or glacier traversing.  One variant is available for pirates, it’s Arrrgyle.

3.  Craft beer people are clean people, more or less.  The downside of that is shower time cuts into drinking time.  There is now a solution to this problem that has plagued the world for ages.  It’s the shower beer holder.  No, not someone standing outside the curtain to hand you a beer when needed but a handy clip-on the shower head device that will fit any size can, bottle, or 64-ounce growler.  It also has a waterproof side pocket to keep a sandwich or snack safe and dry.   The premium versions has a specially designed “Speaker Bluetooth 4.2 Wireless Portable with Built in Microphone” that allows you to drunk call someone without leaving the tub while giving new meaning to singing in the shower.

4.  Remember when Paul Simon sang “People say she's crazy / She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes / Well that's one way to lose these Walking blues / Diamonds on the soles of her shoes”?  Now you can raise the ante with something much better – a beer bottle opener on the sole of your shoes.  The manufacturer says it’s “comfortable” as long as you don’t walk a distance longer than it takes to get to the refrigerator from your couch.  They make an additional claim that your beer will taste better when you have the proper arch support that the opener provides.  While that claim has not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration it is supported by centuries of empirical evidence from China, which coincidently, is where the shoes are manufactured.  I realize some might not want to buy things made in Red China.  If you ask me what I think of Red China I’d be honest and tell you it looks good on a yellow tablecloth.

5.  Who hasn’t stuck their schnozz into a snifter of insanely good craft beer, deeply inhaled, and said, “Damn, I wish I could take a bath in this”?  The logic is impeccable – since you feel so relaxed while drinking beer, you should feel even better bathing in a tub of it.   The idea is not new. People have been doing it for hundreds of years claiming the hops open their pores and contribute to overall vitality. I get the same effect from drinking the beer, but each to his own.

The problem is that the standard bathtub holds 42 gallons of liquid.  That’s 336 pints. That’s a lot of beer.  That’s a big cost.  That’s a lot of work opening and pouring.  And that’s too much for anyone to drink to drain the tub.  Conclusion – the beer bath is impractical.  Ah, but you can get a close approximation with craft-brewed beer soaps available from many sources.  The cheaper ones will leave you smelling like a pile of stale crushed cans of swill after a frat party but the good ones will leave you smelling like a pile of stale crushed cans of a farmhouse saison after a frat party.  I might actually prefer the former.

6.  Most people want to belong to something so why not give them membership to a club.  No, not some organization that does good works and charitable endeavors but one that delivers beer.  It’s almost the same thing anyway. Besides, charity does begin at home.  Groucho Marx once wrote “I don’t want to belong to any club that would accept me as one of its members.” He probably would not have made an exception for any of the Beer Clubs out there but you can.  The club sends beer directly to your doorstep, it doesn’t get much better than that. One club lures people in by saying “Anyone who’s walked up to the craft beer section at a liquor store knows the choice anxiety that can arise from selecting from the myriad options. Let our company do the choosing for you”.   That’s a bit disingenuous.  After all, you could pick old, stale, crummy beers that no one wants just as easily and quickly as they do.

7.   Americans like their beer cold.  Not only does cold beer hide off flavors it hides all flavors. But what do you do when you’re thirsty but your beer has been sitting on a warm floor for months or was stacked in your backyard soaking up the sunshine?  Now you can chill it fast with the “amazing new Beer Chill Drill”.  I see you rolling your eyes.  That’s exactly how it works.  While there is no shortage of ways to quickly chill your beer, real men, and other people, do it with tools. The Spin Chill Drill Bit chills your beer in mere seconds by rolling it in ice. It's a drill bit that attaches to your drill and holds a beer can or bottle. It uses convection which allows the warm liquid in the center of the container to make its way to the outer edges of the can to be cooled instantly by the ice in the bucket you’ve stuck it in. After several minutes of spinning, open immediately, pointing the can at the person who gave you this gift. 

For those of you are concerned that power outages would make it unusable  or that it's not "green" enough, there is a non-electrical alternative.  It’s the Earth Cooler, an underground contraption that you store your beer in to keep it cool.  It is 100% earth friendly, other than when you have to dig a huge hole to stick it in.  Yes, it's simply an insulated box you burry in the ground. It is not recommended to people who live in a desert.  I was going to make a joke about the desert here but I know some of you don’t like dry humor.

8.  You know those couple of seconds while you go to take a sip of your beer and the TV gets blocked from your view? You’ve missed a touchdown pass, a game winning home run, or your favorite beer commercial.  Horrors.  Modern science and American ingenuity have combined to create a beer glass that solves this terrible, persistent problem once and for all. It’s a scientifically designed beer mug that is slanted in one onside as to not block your vision while you're drinking from it.  It is made from ultra low grade plastic, will hold approximately 1 pint of beer, and measures 6.54 inches tall on one side with the other significantly shorter.  It comes with complete directions (in four languages) to avoid massive spills due to drinking from the wrong side.

I used to have one of them but when some do-gooders started a collection to open a pool near me. I gave it to them filled with water.  They never gave it back.

9.   One should always dress to impress which is why the Beer Tie makes for a great gift.  Its brilliance is in the design – it’s a tie that has a pocket on the front that you can place your beer into to hold it when you're not drinking. The recipient of this gift is bound to be the best dressed person at any event from funerals to business meetings, to court dates. On the extremely rare occasions when some whacky neo-Prohibitionists tell you it’s inappropriate simply remove the bottle.  The tie is made from waterproof neoprene, which keeps your beer cold and keeps the condensation from getting on your shirt.  Let’s say it all together now: “Amazing!” It can be switched between can and bottle mode by flipping up a Velcro strip to give more or less height.  The deluxe edition has a key-chain loop to hold your bottle opener for easy access and is attached around your neck using Velcro. But best of all the beer tie acts just like a koozie so that you don't even have to remove the beer from the tie as you can just pick up your tie and drink directly.  You can’t make this stuff up. Let’s say it again -all together – “Amazing!”

Rumor has it that Albert Einstein originally invented this tie.  He was a true genius though it seems his brother Frank was a real monster after drinking too much beer.

10.   Like most of us I’m sure you’ve been called out by beer experts for drinking directly out of a can.  It’s embarrassing for most and emotionally scarring for many.  Now you can deflect those crushing criticisms with a simple device. Presto, change, abracadabra – your beer can has turned into a beer glass.  Now available as a lovely stocking stuffer is the aptly named “Beverage Can Top Opener”.  It is an opener unlike any other because it fully removes the top making the can a drinking vessel.  By removing the top, you are able to enjoy the aroma of the beverage without the smell of the aluminum.  Of course, if you were drinking a macro lager then there would be no smell at all so you might want that aluminum aroma. For those worried about the can having a jagged edge the company does provides a medical hotline emergency help number. 

What a list.  My hours and hours of research really paid off.  Every item is legit and available for gift giving this year.  One last thing for those readers wondering which one to pick for me.  After due consideration and careful study of the list all I can say is I’d rather have the coal.

Celebrities by Vince Capano

The whole idea of being a “celebrity” is a bit strange.  Andy Warhol once famously said, “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes,” and now that’s somewhat true with the advent of social media.  It seems that if you have enough "followers" on various platforms, you've reached that lofty status.  Then, more people follow you simply because more people are following you.  It’s a win -win circle of dubious achievement since no skill or talent is required.  Of course, that means there are so many of them out there it’s getting tough to determine who are the real celebrities and who are just celebrated. My rule of thumb is that a serious celebrity is any well-known person who looks like they spend more than two hours working on their hair.  However, moving from there to the first rank of celebritydom  isn’t easy.  To accomplish that you must be talked about in a bar after everyone’s had their third pint or my mother has to have heard of you.

Every group and sub-sector of society has its own celebrity cult.  That includes we denizens of Beerland. There are many historic beer celebrities we’ll never get a chance to meet.  No, not because they are too snooty to mix with the hoi polloi but because they’re now in the big barroom in the sky drinking triple IPAs that don’t give you a hangover and are always on sale at $1 per dozen.  Now that’s heaven, figuratively and literally.

An early beer celebrity was Pharaoh Scorpion I (who looks suspiciously like Dwyane “The Rock” Johnson in photographs recently discovered in his lost tomb) who had a prayer etched into stone tablets that “beer should never turn sour.” He obviously preceded the creation of Gose.  Our first President fits in the category too since he perfected a craft recipe for “small beer”— a low, low ABV  brew made with molasses and bran.  It doubled as a slow acting laxative.  Another was William IV, Duke of Bavaria, who adopted the Reinheitsgebot (purity law).  Too bad he didn’t do something about food too. While the beer was good the sausage was the wurst.  Who could forget Queen Elizabeth I of England who drank strong ale for breakfast? I tried it the other day.  It was a bit too much for me. I'm sticking with Guinness over my Cheerios. Then there was George Hodgson who is often lazily credited as “inventing” IPA. He began to brew it in east London in 1752, long before the style reached its modern massive popularity.  Mr. Hodgson almost gave up, thinking it was a hop less task.

 I could go on but after that line I’m sure no one wants me to.

That somehow brings us to more modern beer celebrities.  To further narrow the category down I’m going with ones I have actually met, have been within 50 feet of (quite a bit less than the average judicial restraining order in most states proving I have not stalked any beer idols), or know someone who has actually shaken the hand of a beer celebrity. To shake the hand of the person who shook the hand is like shaking the real hand.  Makes sense to me.  Fist bumps count but only during Covid spikes.

There’s no argument with classifying Garret Oliver as a beer celebrity.  In the world of craft beer, Brooklyn Brewery’s longtime brewmaster has pretty much done it all. He helped engineer the original IPA boom and pioneered creations like chocolate stouts. He’s the editor-in-chief of “The Oxford Companion to Beer” and author of the classic “The Brewmaster’s Table”.  He has been nominated for a half-dozen James Beard Awards.  In short, he’s big timer.  Well, one day I checked my email and was shocked to see I had a message that wasn’t junk.  Even more, it was an invitation to a party and all 475 the invitees were listed in the “To” box.  I found my name, and there, 137 names away, was “Garret Oliver”.  Yes, that Garret Oliver.  Needless to say, I immediately emailed back my acceptance.

I’d like to tell you how great the party was, but it wasn’t, as in wasn’t held.  It seems only 1 of the 475 invitees were able to make it so the host canceled it.  I’m adjusting my criteria and counting that as actually meeting Mr. Oliver.  I hereby give him permission to say the same about meeting me. 

I actually did “meet” (using the 50 feet rule) the icon of all beer icons, Michael Jackson.  He was hosting a beer dinner at a local restaurant owned by a self-proclaimed  “Master Beer Chef” ( I was thinking this would be a good place for a culinary pun but the one I thought of just  didn't pan out.) I arrived early but still was still seated at a table near the rear. Clearly no one at this place was a BeerNexus reader.  I even brought my complete box set (VHS tapes) of Jackson's iconic Beer Hunter tv series, hoping for an autograph.  As the crowd of about 125 people was being seated spontaneous applause broke out when Mr. Jackson staggered, ah, walked, in and sat at the front table.  The man was here. It was a legitimate thrill.

A beer was served with each of the 5 courses and Mr. Jackson rose to speak about each for a few seconds, though one of the times he stood up he didn't speak.  He left for the restroom.  That’s when I noticed that his table was getting a bottle for each person seated there (Mr. Jackson got 2) while every other table got one bottle to share among six people.  I understood why he got more but couldn’t figure out why we got less.  As the 5th and last beer came it was time for the star of the evening’s keynote address.   Unfortunately, it became difficult to understand what Mr. Jackson was saying.  I chalked it up to his English accent and the vast distance between us. The fact that he made a mistake that any one of us could have didn’t seem to be a contributing factor.  After all, some beer bottles do look exactly like a microphone. 

I did get to speak with the great man since he generously stayed around after the affair to chat with anyone.  He graciously even signed my box of Beer Hunter tapes - “To Vince, Happy Viewing.  Michael Jackson, 27 Sept. ‘99”.  It was a good thing I brought a pen with me so he could sign.  Some beer bottles also look exactly like a pen.

I often look to that autograph for inspiration.  The box now sits proudly on my desk as I write this.  Fortunately, my computer looks nothing like a beer bottle.

If you drink craft beer then you know of Sam Calagione, the founder of the famed Dogfish Head Brewery.  The brand’s motto “off centered beers made for off centered people”, perfectly describes his brewing proclivity. and just coincidently also describes a few readers of this column.  Sam created a craft brewing juggernaut, with his beers now available in 45 states. He’s written or co-written five books and won the prestigious James Beard Award.  Although vote totals for the award were never officially released I finished a close second that year and had done so for the past seven.  I saw it on BeerNexus so it must be a fact. Rest assured, everything on this site is true, even the stuff we make up.

Some brewery sales still reverberate today as loudly as a gong at a silent retreat. One that does happened in 2019 when Boston Beer Company, the makers of Samuel Adams beer, bought Dogfish Head.  That helped give Mr. Calagione a personal net worth of over $223 Million dollars including 385,538 shares of Boston Beer Co.  I too have tried buying stock in Samuel Adams and other beer companies.  The main lesson I learned is that the best way to make a small fortune in the stock market is to start off with a big one.   

The news broke that Calagione would be making an appearance at the Libertine Pub to host a luncheon for local distributors.  The public was not invited.  That deterred me but not my intrepid colleague, Glenn “The Big G” Deluca who stealthy entered the room cleverly disguised as Derek Jeter since he knew that Mr. Calagione was a lifelong Yankee fan.  The ruse worked.  Glenn not only got a handshake but also a free beer.  I didn’t get a beer but did get to shake Glenn’s hand so that’s how I met Sam Calagione.  Now before you think that tale may be a bit exaggerated check out the picture at the very bottom of the Big G’s Index page.  Sam’s the guy with a big smile since he was meeting a Yankee legend. Glenn’s the guy with a big smile because he got a free beer. I’m not smiling because I’m not in the picture. 

I’ve saved my personal favorite for last.  He’s the 2020 Craft Beer Man of the Year, Zane Lamprey. Comedian, world traveler, and drinks aficionado. Zane has been to 72 countries, and experienced hangovers in each one.  He has hosted over 100 episodes of television (Three Sheets, Drinking Made Easy, Chug, Four Sheets) where his job was to learn about the indigenous culture by sharing drinks with the locals.  And he got paid for doing it.

Lamprey is currently on his “Laughs and Drafts” national tour.  For reasons unknown one of his performances was at a brewery called Bolero Snort (I don’t get the name either) in Carlstadt, NJ (where?).   Note - according to Google, Carlstadt is just 10.2 miles from the heart of New York City or about 4 hours in real travel time.   The brewery makes beers with names like Hooffa Pilsner, Crushabull Session, Simply Irresistibull, and Bullhalla.  I think you get the idea.  Most of those names are unbulllievable.   

I was lucky enough to get a VIP ticket for the sold-out event.  Arriving about 10 minutes before the start of a special Q&A with Zane “exclusively” for we important people, I had time for at least three beers.  I entered the brewery’s tasting room only to find a line 50 deep screaming for beer from one harried bartender.  With over 300 tickets sold management didn’t have the foresight to hire even one additional worker.  I don't know what their problem is, but I bet it is hard to pronounce.

All seating was outdoors in a fenced off area.  I was quick to notice two things – you could hear and see the entire show perfectly just by standing next to the fence and that there were no outdoor johns.  I didn’t mind the few freeloaders but no porta potties was going to be a challenge.  I could have gotten them a deal with the largest company in the field, Johnny On The Spot.  They’re number one in the number two business.  Even more, satisfaction is guaranteed, or they'll return it for free.  The evening was saved when I discovered two indoor restrooms wisely located near the bar proving the old adage that you don't buy beer, you only borrow it for a while.

Once I found a seat, I carefully measured the distance from there to the stage.  It was exactly 49 feet, 11 ¾ inches, comfortably within my 50-foot limit.    As soon as Zane came out, I would be able to put another notch on my celebrity belt.  

Suffice to say that the show was everything I had expected and more.  Thanks to Zane, it was a dream evening.  He is the real deal, a true beer celebrity.  As they would say at Bolero Snort, that’s no bulloney. 

Patrick Henry Halloween 

by Vince Capano

When a beer drinker thinks of the month of October what first comes to mind?  Of course, it’s Oktoberfest beer.  If you said Octoberfest you’d be right too.  One is just spelled wrong though I can’t decide which.  If you said Marzen you’d be right three. And if you said Festbier you’d probably have several pairs of freshly cleaned lederhosen or dirndls in your closet   Actually, there is a subtle, through real, difference between the beers, but you’d have to be a member of the Beer Judges Certification Program to know or more importantly, to care what they are.  Most drinkers are not perfectionists like certified beer judges.  I once walked into a pub with one of them and all he did was complain, apparently the bar wasn’t set high enough. I can relate, however. I'm a perfectionist too.  I’m also a procrastinator.  Someday I'm going to be perfect.

Some people might have answered my October question by saying "Pumpkin beer".  I admit to thinking putting the words pumpkin and beer together is, in itself, already a bad joke.  Let’s face it, Pumpkin beer is the modern-day equivalent of the mullet. Everybody that brewed one will be ashamed of it in a decade.  I generally have one pint of pumpkin beer each year just to appreciate how much I’m not missing it.

The alternate correct answer to my initial question is Halloween.  It was exclusively a kid’s holiday that has somehow morphed into a fun night at the bar.  And sometimes not so fun.  Of all my bar Halloweens one stands out despite it happening years ago.  It was a dark and stormy night……ah, wait, that’s the opening of my forthcoming novel which you can pre-order soon.  It was a Halloween that I remember so very clearly, which puts the lie to the adage that drinking too much beer can cause memory loss, but it causes memory loss.

I walked into my regular haunt, the Libertine Pub, and quietly settled into my usual seat. The veteran bartender, Jeff, came over and said, “Just read in today’s newspaper that this is the first full moon on Halloween in the past 20 years”.   While I mentally filed this fact as interesting but monumentally trivial, I never realized that Jeff’s revelation was also a chilling warning of the gut- wrenching trick or treat decision that awaited me that evening.

That long ago night began tranquilly enough as I enjoyed a few pints of one of the establishment’s fine craft brews.  My first drink of choice was something called Patrick Henry Ale.  It proved to be quite the tasty, full-bodied, hop laden, bold, and potent beverage.  Indeed, it was just the perfect beer to use in a toast to Halloween since this uniquely American holiday clearly called out for a beer named after a unique American.  You just don’t get more American than Patrick Henry.  If I recall my high school history, he was the founder of the U.S. Submarine Service, who famously said, ‘Give me liberty or give me depth.”

Jeff next reached under the bar and pulled up a pumpkin lamp that he duly plugged in to enhance the Halloween mood.  It’s bubbly, orange, blue-green soft light was ideal for the feeling of peacefulness I had, no doubt courtesy of my second pint of Mr. Henry’s elixir.  Looking more closely at the lamp, I noticed, “It’s a Bud Light” written across the base.  Ah, now I get it.  A cute, one chuckle promotion from our friends at Anheuser-Bush.  “Thought you’d get a kick out of this item and there’s more to come,” Jeff said, “wait until the Bud team arrives”.  I quickly decided not to hold my breath and continued my interaction with Patrick, who, thanks to my third pint, I now knew on a first name basis.

 Almost immediately shouts of “The Bud Guys are heeeeeer! The Bud Guys are heeeeeer!” began to fill the pub.  A trio of individuals burst through the door costumed as what I guessed had to be either the Three Musketeers at Marti Gras, the Three Stooges dressed as Mummers on parade, or Ebenezer Scrooge’s three spirit visitors after multiple shots of spirits.  They were complete with grand flowing capes, rubber swords, polished boots, swashbuckling waistbands and oh so large, feathered hats. The outfits were impressively authentic of something historic whatever it was, though the emblazoned B -U -D on each item slightly strained their authenticity. 

The bar patrons seemed to emit a collective yawn as the Bud Guys carried three huge, nondescript boxes toward my end of the bar.   As they began an animated discussion with Jeff, I noticed that each box was filled with shirts and hats and glasses.  But not just ordinary shirts, hats, and glasses.  This was top of the line, high quality swag.  The shirts had collars with embroidered logos, the hats boasted buckles on the back instead of cheap plastic strips for sizing, and the glasses had no holes.  Clearly this was not a clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk.

The leader of the Bud Guys promptly handed Jeff a credit card and asked that three dozen bottles of Bud Light be placed at the end of the bar, almost directly in front of me.  “Thanks for giving us some space” the tallest Bud guy said as he handed me a bottle.  He then grabbed several more in each hand and joined his partners as they circled the bar chanting “No tricks – only treats!  Free Bud Lights, shirts, and hats”.  No tricks – only treats! Free Bud Lights, shirts, and hats”.  And it was all true.  There were treats and no tricks, but there was a catch.  And it was big.  An even bigger one than in the sign over the bar that read “free beer tomorrow”.

I was blindsided when I politely asked the shortest Budster for my promised shirt and hat. “It’s all yours, but you only get them when you drink a second Bud Light.”  Was he kidding?  Did he mean I actually had to finish not one but two of his tepid, pedestrian, taste free lager while beckoning taps of  flavor packed beers were within arm’s reach waiting to replenish my empty pint glass?  This was taking a Halloween promotion much too far.  

Sensing that giving these guys an erudite dissertation proving their no tricks-only treats chant was an enforceable verbal contract could possibly result in a rubber sword duel, I instantly went to plan B.  Hoping he wouldn’t notice my crossed fingers or have a portable polygraph, I told the Budster that the first Bud Light was just so good that I wanted only one so as to make the memory of this evening a singular treasure.  Ok, not good, but I figured a guy wearing a cape and false goatee might just go for it.  Wrong.  In this case looking stupid was not a mental handicap.

I looked around the bar for support and saw many of my brethren craft beer lovers blithely putting on hats and holding up shirts.  What? How could they give in so quickly?  It was then that I realized this moment was about more than just trying to scam a few very nice, free goodies.  Could it be that my earlier choice of Patrick Henry ale might have been more than just a coincidence? After all, was it not this revered patriot who intoned, “Caesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell; and Budweiser. may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it."?  Didn’t he place honor and great tasting beer above all else?  Didn’t he back up his fiery words with heroic action and sacrifice?  I sat moved and motivated by his stirring words.  They resounded in my head, a symphony of echoes heard and unheard.  History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme.  Was it now my turn to play it out?

Despite his firebrand bravado Patrick Henry was also a very practical man.  It is quite possible that given similar circumstances to mine he might do whatever was needed to get that shirt and hat.  After all, those Revolutionary nights could get quite chilly.  If only I had gotten into the Halloween spirit and worn a costume.  The anonymity of a mask would make my decision much easier.  I know there are some who frown on anyone or any group that is anonymous.  All I can say is that they've written some beautiful poetry over the years. 

I slowly began to recognize that I was smack in the middle of one of those unexpected moments in life when, from out of nowhere, a blazing cosmic exam of truth was being forced upon me.  It is how we react to those moments that forever seal our fate.   One crowd simply smiles, straightens up, and gladly reaches for another Bud, while others look deep in the enlightenment of truth and take the path of righteousness, becoming champions of justice.

“Last chance, Buddy” bellowed the Budster.  I cleared my throat.  Loudly.  Several times.  Now the attention of the entire bar was focused directly on me.  Slowly, majestically, I stood up.  Holding my empty glass high, I turned toward Jeff and simply but firmly said, “another Patrick Henry, please.”  

A frozen silence gripped the entire bar.  Then it started.  A dark shadow sliced through the dim light of the bar toward the Budsters.  Suddenly a blizzard of Bud hats and shirts followed, filling the air. Pleas for glasses of real craft beer were boldly and proudly shouted from every section of the bar. The conscience of a people had been stirred.

The Bud Men scrambled behind a nearby pillar that was, fortunately for them, located on a direct route to the exit.  Salvaging some honor, they yelled, “got to go to our next stop, Happy Halloween” as they disappeared through the pub doors into the engulfing darkness.  Those of us at the bar sat satisfied amid the ruin of spent hats and torn shirts.  Good beer had prevailed.  

Perhaps it is lucky that full moons on Halloween only come once every 20 years.  According to NASA the next one on Halloween will be in 2039.  Do not let that make you think you are safe.  The challenge continues; the danger is great.  It's lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at craft beer’s growth any moment. Beware not only the power of macro products in its various craft disguises but the tsunami of bad taste being unleashed by hard seltzers.  

We need Patrick Henry now more than ever.

JUICE BOMBS

BY VINCE CAPANO

They’re everywhere.  They’re unstoppable.  Try hiding in a dark wine cellar, sealed bank vault, the Lost Dutchman Mine, the subterranean annex of the Bat Cave, Thomas Jefferson’s nose on Mt. Rushmore, or a hidden hut on a lost sandstone mountain on the Norwegian island of Spitsbergen in the remote Arctic Svalbard archipelago, it won’t matter. There is no escape from hazy beer juice bombs.  They are more common than a smart watch on a dumb person.  Look in any beer store or brewery and you’ll see them boldly terrorizing every other style known to brewing mankind.  Hazy, cloudy, juicier than juicy juice IPAs are on a march toward despotic beer autocracy.

There they sit, row after row, up, down, and sideways on every shelf in just about every beer store aisle in the land.  Don’t let their different names fool you. They go by handles like New England IPA, Hazy New England IPAs, East Coast Hazy IPAs, Northeast Double Hazy IPAs, South North East West Coasts Inland Crazy Hazy IPAs, and more named after every other possible compass direction legally allowed.  Adding to the glut is that just about every other beer style have tried to catch the wave.  Thanks to the hazy craze now you can find hazy Pale Ales, Hazy Lagers, Hazy Goses, Hazy Gruits, and even Hazy Stouts (I don’t get it either).  If it’s hazy then it’s juicy.  If it’s hazier then it’s juicer.  We’re now in the midst of the ultimate battle of brewers for hazy supremacy as each try to outdo the others in a mad race to create the ultimate juice bomb.  If they only realized Tropicana already beat them to it.

Plenty of trends have come and gone over the years in craft beer especially in the realm of India pale ales.  There were boomlets for Black IPAs, Belgium IPAs, Red IPAs, Rye IPAs, Cascadian Dark IPAs and other equally forgettable or downright bad incarnations.  That should come as no surprise since IPAs have been the engine driving craft beer for years.  It’s in the brewers’ DNA, not to mention their financial interest, to find the next new thing.  It is inevitable. Few of those attempts, however, have touched the raw nerve — and then hammered on it like a pogo stick — as hazy IPAs.

Being a Juicy IPA means the beer has large amounts of hops that give it an overwhelming fruit- and citrus-forward flavor or “juiciness”. Unlike a classic IPA, these beers are disappointingly lacking in bitterness.  Many beer drinkers and, surprisingly, beer haters, find them easy to knock down. Even when they hit 8% ABV, most hazy IPAs have virtually no boozy burn though you could get the same result when you pour some vodka in Gatorade.  I recommend the Lemon-Lime flavor.

Don’t get me wrong. Anytime you can get people to drink any type of beer it’s a good thing.  I want everyone to be healthy and one way to do that is to drink beer.  It’s good for you.  One study I recently saw showed that one beer a day for women lowered the risk of all-cause mortality as did two for men. Putting my degree in advanced medical logic and alchemy to good use I have concluded that 4 beers a day would then clearly double my life expectancy over the recommended 2 a day.  I’d go up to 8 but who wants to live that long anyway.  After all, I don't want to reach an age when my back goes out more than I do.

The obvious corollary to all this is that teetotalers and prohibitionists are the main reason for the decrease in national longevity.  If we really want to help the country’s heath maybe the government should give out free beer, the way they do vaccines, but without a needle.  Rumor has it that longtime home beer and vaccine brewer turned mystic sorcerer, Dr. Anthony Fauci, will contract brew his award-winning recipes for Lockdown Lager, Purell Pale Ale, Masked Man’s Mild, and the inevitable, Seltzer In Place. 

My many years of being a craft beer lover have led me to one startling conclusion I’m happy to share - Beer is not juice. For example, Kumquat juice comes from a kumquat, one ingredient imparting one flavor (just don’t ask me what it is.  I’ve never had a kumquat).  Craft beer, at its best, is the equivalent of a seasoned dish from a master chef with multiple ingredients working together to create a greater whole that is nuanced, refined, and boasting of layers of flavor.  Sort of like a lunch prepared from the kitchens of legendary folks like Artie Bucco, Bob Belcher, SpongeBob, and the immortal Chef Boyardee.

Hazy juicy fans and those of us who long for traditional IPAs cite the same thing about the style but from different sides – bitterness.  To the juice fan low to no bitterness makes for a heavenly brew, to we old school palates bitterness brings flavor and balance.   Just think of some great bitter beers of the past like Buffalo Bill’s Brewery’s Alimony Ale – “The Bitterest Beer In America”, Dogfish’s Hoo Laud “the Alpha Bitter Beast”, and Cervejaria Invicta 1000 IBU “Bitter like a punch in the face.”  Come on, who doesn’t want a punch in the face from a hoo-laud beast?  Maybe even two (that's punches, not beasts).

The earliest examples of hazy IPA were often dismissed as lazy brewing or putting flour in the beer.  Neither is true.  Making the style, as my several failed homebrewing attempts have shown, is a complicated process.  After one colossal flop I thought about buying one of those countertop homebrewing machines, but a little research showed they really don’t work that well proving that artificial intelligence is a match for natural stupidity. 

In making a NEIPA most professional brewers use water high in calcium chloride, which decreases bitterness and lays the foundation for a creamy, juice like texture. The malt bill gets heavy doses of adjuncts, especially oats and wheat, which soften the texture even more. Specialized yeast does much of the heavy lifting; imparting maximum fruity characteristics.  Hops are only added late in the boil and again in early during fermentation. That results bring the required haze.  But not much balance to the finished product.  Beer should be balanced like your diet.  For me a balanced diet is a beer in each hand.

People sometimes use the term “hoppy” to describe these “juicy” beers.  “Hoppy” to them means notes of berries, melon, mangoes, and more.  In this style brewers are specifically trying to reduce the perception of bitterness to bring those other flavors forward.  My old school definition of hoppy starts and ends with bitterness with things such as resin, grapefruit, and pine in between.  Which is better?  I recall many an intense discussion with those who insisted that hazy juice bombs are better than any traditional IPA ever made.  Being a conciliator and person of peace, I usually took the high road and told them I agreed with them but that means we’re both wrong. 

When New England IPAs first came on the market no one was more charmed by the style’s easygoing disposition and fruit-forward flavors than me.  It was different and fun, so I was excited to try new hazy IPAs from every brewery or bar I visited.  After drinking countless numbers of them more than a few began to seem increasingly rote and uninspired.  It seemed that more and more of those IPAs were being created with maximum “juice” but wound-up tasting like sludgy plant matter mixed with Miso soup in a 16 ounce glass.  Despite that, the majority of beer drinkers still rave about how great they are, seemingly unable to tell the difference.  I’m happy to say I’m no longer in their camp. As Mark Twain said, “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to reform.”

To be totally honest, the last couple of years, I’ve swung up and down on hazy IPAs. I guess you could say I was indecisive, but now I’m not so sure.  What complicates the matter is that, in the right hands, they’re capable of being truly delicious beers.  Sadly, those are not commonplace.  When you look at many juice bombs it doesn’t take long to realize that although competently made, they all end up pretty much being the same.  Beyond that, some are simply not good.  In fact, there’s just so much bad hazy IPA out there now that it’s statistically more likely you’ll get a bad one than a good one at this point.  I know you’re thinking that statistics are like a bikini. What they reveal is suggestive, but what they conceal is vital.  I disagree.  In every one of my articles I follow only one tenet –statistics is the art of never having to say you’re wrong.

Now that I’ve explained why you feel so forlorn, upset, morose, and despondent every time you open your refrigerator door and see all those cans of Juicy IPAs sitting on the shelves, I’m ready to help you overcome it all.  Despite the fact that the solution means I’ll be taking a hit but that's what we do here at Team BeerNexus.  Go into your refrigerator and look for cans that say Treehouse, Trillium, Other Half, Russian River, and Hill Farmstead.  Quietly remove them, pack them securely in a box, and send them to me.  I will save you from having to drink any of them and promise to dispose of their contents in the most environmentally friendly way.

No need to thank me.  

THE RETURN

BY VINCE CAPANO

Do you remember where you were the day before the bars closed?  When the wrath of Covid hit and the news of the shutdown became official perhaps you, like me, were sitting on a stool, knocking down one final pint before Beer Armageddon.   It was a scary time wondering just who at the pub might be the Typhoid Mary to avoid at all costs.  My Saturday beer hunting group had settled in at one of our favorite dive bars, Hoover’s.  The place was packed, the bartenders were harried, and we all knew it would be months, years, decades, maybe even a a day or two, before we’d be sitting at any bar again.

Every time I heard a cough, sneeze, or the unmistakable roar of dive bar flatulence I pulled my collar up higher, tucked my chin in, and yanked my hat lower, hoping that if the germs couldn’t see me I’d be safe.  I had thought of disguising myself as a bottle of hand sanitizer, but those costumes were sold out.  Then I almost went with the Dr. Fauci mask as a joke but decided against it at the last minute.  If I used it I’d have to wait two weeks to see if anyone got it.

Our hearty band of beer folks decided to forgo our usual practice of sharing a taste of beer for safety sake.  That also meant if you made a bad beer choice you were stuck drinking it.  “Have another sip” wouldn’t work this time.  Even Covid had unintended consequences. 

Suddenly the gravity of the situation hit me full force.  I realized not only might this shutdown put some places out of business it would put a damper on comedy. For the duration nobody will be able to walk into a bar. As such I decided to make my drink memorable. I ordered a double shot of Irish whiskey, specifically, Proper 12, mainly because MMA icon Conner McGregor, it’s former owner/spokesperson, is a avid reader of this column. Really.  Well, maybe.  Ah, probably not, but perhaps Proper 12 will send me a free bottle for mentioning it.  Don’t worry, I’m a true beer guy through and through.  It wouldn’t look right drinking some serious booze while I’m on the BeerNexus expense account.  Someone might take a video.  I deftly and stealthy poured it in my beer.  Problem solved.

Just because the bars were now closed didn’t mean our steadfast group stopped meeting.  Our motto said it all - “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night will stay we drinkers from the completion of our appointed rounds”.  Now we added “pandemic” to that list of ills.   We decided to meet outdoors for a weekly “happy hour.” 

Since the 1980s, when Massachusetts became the first state to ban happy hour (seems like banning beer Christmas), other states have followed attempting to regulate it in various ways  Of course there are states that don’t ban or regulate at all.  We immediately declared allegiance to those states, declaring ourselves citizens with birth certificates we bought from a small printer in the back of a bodega in Brooklyn to prove it.  He fit our order in between runs of twenty and fifty dollar bills.

Our happy hour proudly defied the laws of time – they were never 60 minutes.  It only takes a few simple words – “Salagadoola mechicka boola  Bibbidi-bobbidi-beer”.  When you put them together what have you got? A time portal. Once you step inside, everything slows down. One hour inside becomes two or three or four hours outside. This is a scientific fact that teetotalers, prohibitionists, and time travel deniers just don't seem to understand.

Our regular venue was the deserted parking lot of a mostly deserted large hotel. Covid restrictions and fears had made travel something to avoid so we were quite alone.  Being solid citizens, we were sure to follow all government guidelines.  We wore masks (I went with my old Nixon one from Halloween 1972) and were careful to park our cars at least six feet apart.  Hey, no one wants to drive a sick car.  For months our small group’s cars outnumbered those in the hotel’s entire lot.  I guess it was fair to say that in this case the parking lot was parking little.

Everyone brought a chair and a cooler (in reverse order of importance).  Our get together began with each person holding up one of the beers they brought.  Being a gentleman, I rarely booed some lackluster selections despite how worthy it might have been of a vigorous Bronx Cheer.  Instead I opted for a polite yawn.  After all, I didn’t want to have anyone think I was a beer snob.  While we didn’t share tastes, we did pass each can around for self-pours.  With a bit of luck, the can of a beer you didn’t like would come back to you empty.  If it wasn’t, a quick sleight of hand would send it around again with no one the wiser.  All those hours of watching the Masked Magician had finally paid off.

We met every Saturday in the far corner of the lot.  The rare hotel guest would give us an occasional admiring wave.  We had become the face of the Covid Resistance Movement.  Until a vaccine was ready, we’d keep beer alive.  It was a heady (not Topper) time.

Our small plot of pandemic defiance was partly under a group of lovely trees.  They provided delightful shade during the warm summer months, then as autumn came, they showed us that their leaves didn’t actually fall, they flew, taking their time to gently wander on this their only chance to soar.  Eventually our world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.  Then as the temperature fell each week, we reveled in the surroundings - air so crisp you could snap it with your fingers amidst glorious autumnal bursts of red and yellow. 

It’s lines like those that can really make a person cry in their beer.

Step by step, slowly it turned into Niagara Falls, ah, I mean winter.  We kept meeting every Saturday and every Saturday it got colder.  And colder.  Short sleeve shirts became sweaters that became jackets that became jackets under jackets and hats under hoods and gloves under gloves.  Yet still we met.  And drank beer. Fingers and hands turned bluer than the mountains on Coors Light cans.  Despite it all we discovered that the good thing about drinking beer in a parking lot in the howling winter wind with a temperature of 14 degrees is that….ah….give me a minute….I’m thinking……well, let’s move on to the next paragraph.

One of the more intrepid of our group, proving his degree from my own alma mater Wossamotta U was legitimate, brought a small propane heater to the circle.  To we frozen drinkers it was the stuff of dreams even if it never worked more than two minutes in a row.  The warming flame kept going out.  Please don’t blame the beer being spilled on as the cause of the problem.  I couldn’t figure it out so I asked everyone to stop to think about it but we forgot to start again.

We were there for the first ice storm, snowfall, sub-freezing temperature, and hailstorm of the season.  We were becoming legends in our own minds.  And then it happened.  No, one of the group getting his lip stuck to a frozen beer can (the parking lot didn’t have a flagpole) wasn’t it.  A vaccine was announced.  I had volunteered for the trial group but changed my mind when I saw a guy with three ears and five eyebrows leave the testing site.  Now it was perfected.  Each of our group rushed to get vaccinated being sure not to make a appointment on a Saturday since beer always comes first.

As more and more people were vaccinated the bars were allowed to reopen. We and beer had survived.  Now we faced the big question- where do we make our first triumphant, mask free, victory appearance? It would serve as a symbol of perseverance , courage, and dedication to beer.  After all, if Covid wasn’t about beer, why were there so many cases?

One of our group suggested we go to an upscale, hipster venue, specifically the one which, in pre-pandemic times, curtly demanded we remove our baseball caps before entering.  We would show them that beer people, caps and all, are back while their uppity wine, cocktail, and imperial seltzer (garnished) swilling customers are still hovering in their fortified germ-free bubbles.  That idea was rejected since we didn’t want to kick anyone when they were down and because none of us wanted to pay $9 for a seven ounce pour of Sam Adams lager.  Clearly we had not only avoided the Covid germ but the Stupid variant too.

The next suggestion was to go to a place where we could once again see real beer drinkers.  We thought of some requirements that might make it even more fun.  Everyone had a suggestion: 

• It should be somewhere that doesn’t try to appeal to cleanliness.  We’d feel more at home there. 

• It should be a place without karaoke, a  jukebox, bar trivia contests, or climate control thermostats.   I filed a minority dissent saying that a TV is fine, but only if it was tuned to non stop repeats of Svengoolie.

•  It should be a bar where the customers don't know or care what Yelp is.  

•  It should be a place the manger would never sit with a liquor rep to taste Japanese scotches.

•  It should be a place without pretense that welcome strangers, especially quirky ones. (I’m resisting the temptation to add “like us”.)

•  It should be a place with good beer, where everyone from 21 year-olds (or younger with quality fake IDs) to 91-year-olds can just sit, enjoy, and talk beer.

“Stop” I said.  We’ve just described our spot in the parking lot.” 

Assuming the hotel was not going to erect a small, heated gazebo for us, the lot just wouldn’t do now regardless of it’s attributes.  Then. like an energy blast from Loki’s fingers or a swift boot from a bar bouncer, the answer hit us.  With harmony worthy of the Herbert Buckingham Khaury Quintet (aka The Tiny Tim Ukulele Four) we sang out as one: “Hoover’s”.

For the record Hoover’s was once named one of the “Best Dive Bars” in the state.  A list like that is a bit perplexing.  If a dive bar is supposed to be shabby and semi-disreputable. is it possible to be better by being shabbier and less-reputable? And if so, wouldn’t the award for Best Dive Bar actually go to the worst dive bar and the Worst Dive Bar award to the best? It’s all very confusing.

When we entered Hoover’s nothing seemed to have changed except the craft beers on tap.  The Sunday Special sign was still there – “We open at 6 AM featuring triple shot Screwdrivers.”  The same friendly and hardworking bartenders were still there.  Most of the same patrons were there comfortably entrenched in their usual seats.  Some looked like they hadn’t left since the bar closed, frozen in time with half filled bottles of Coors Light and empty shot glasses displayed as a symbolic coat of arms in front of them.  

Yes, we had made the right pick for our return.

Our small group had come full circle.  We would start where we ended to end what we started.  The bars were back.  We were back. I’d say beer was back, but we all knew it never left. 

BEER CODE TALKERS

by Vince Capano

Code: DIBEH, AH-NAH, A-SHIN, BE, AH-DEEL-TAHI, D-AH, NA-AS-TSO-SI, THAN-ZIE, TLO-CHIN

Translation: SHEEP, EYES, NOSE, DEER, BLOW UP, TEA, MOUSE, TURKEY, ONION

Deciphered Code: SEND DEMOLITION TEAM TO … (possible alternate translation: BeerNeus is my favorite website)

That’s an example of the Navajo Code Talkers of WWII who used their native languages to send military messages.  The code was “unbreakable”

Twenty-nine Navajos were recruited to develop the code in 1942. They took their language and developed a “Type One Code” that assigned a Navajo word to each English letter. They also created special words for planes, ships and weapons. However, just because a person understood the incredibly complex Navajo language it didn’t mean they could understand the code. A person fluent in the language would hear a message that translated into a list of words that seemingly had no connection to each other, while a code talker would hear a very clear message. It’s sort of like putting a craft beer in a Bud Light bottle and pouring it into a Miller glass before drinking it so you can enjoy a tasty brew while your Macro swill loving buddies won’t think you’re a snob.

I was reminded of the history of the code talkers mainly because I’ve been hanging out with a modern version of them.  They’re a group of beer code talkers who speak in an equally undecipherable language whenever I ask them what they would recommend I drink at our local pub.  

Look, before plunking down some substantial dollars for any of the essentials of life, like a kegerator autographed by Zane Lamprey, a personalized beer can koozie with my name outlined in bottle caps, a titanium bottle opener/golf tee/ back scratcher, and countless other expensive but desperately needed quality of life items I want to know I’m spending wisely. A savvy spender simply must do some research. That goes double when buying beer especially now that the $20 a four-pack barrier is broken as often as hand painted porcelain plates of Augustus Busch drinking a Dogfish 120 while dancing with a lampshade on his head  What, you’ve never seen one? That proves my point - they’re mostly all broken. 

 If you’re buying on Amazon it all about how many stars the item has, if you’re considering a Broadway play you read reviews, if you’re looking for a contractor you check out the Better Business Bureau.  With craft beer it gets a bit harder.  It’s foolish to just blindly make a purchase because you like the label or the name or it’s the only thing in the bar that’s not a Bud product or you’re thirsty and it’s liquid.  I believe the best thing to do is to get intel from a trustworthy, knowledgeable person who has had the beer. Unfortunately, those special folks tend to give reviews that are often indecipherable even to a Navajo.

I know you’re thinking why not check out a beer on Untappd; thousands of “reviews” must be more accurate than the two or three people you’re asking.  Not if you ask the right people, and besides, the range in Untappd ratings between breweries and their beers is somewhat negligible. Check it out and you’ll see the difference between an average beer and world class beer is merely a few tenths of a decimal. The only thing significant about understanding that is you’ve finally proved that struggling through 3nd grade math wasn’t a total waste of time; it has actually does have a real-world application.

I applaud the fact that Untappd is the ultimate in beer democracy.  It gives anyone the opportunity to provide feedback about a beer. Feel free to sign a quick chorus of Power To the People here. I’ll wait. I do however recommend not singing too loudly because there is a “but” coming.  But ….what objective value does a  the opinion of some random drinker in Pocatello, Idaho who just traded in his flip can and string device for a smartphone really have?   Not much unless he can contact the ghost of the great Beer Hunter Michael Jackson with it.

Most of the time there’s no explanation of why a person gives a beer a specific rating.  Maybe the beer was too cold, maybe they were in a bad mood, maybe they just ate a raw onion, maybe they just had two pints of Strawberry Macaroon Imperial seltzer, or maybe it’s just that they don’t know a gose from a grisette or a saison from a Schwarzbier.  To me, many, not all, of those ratings are like the difference between ignorance and apathy - I don’t know, and I don’t care.

We all know someone who constantly rates beers poorly because they simply don’t like the style or because they’ve got a grudge against a brewery.  Then there are others who give a place/beer a great rating because they like the bartender, atmosphere, price, or serving size.  I was going to add ABV to that list but then I’d have to admit I give anything over 10% an extra half point.  Disclaimer - you should only do that if you drink in moderation.  And next time you drink in Moderation, I’ll join you.  It one of my favorite bars.

Now before you think I’m on a soapbox preaching everyone should untap Untappd let me say that it’s a great resource to see what’s new and popular in an area you’re not familiar with.  It’s also a perfect way to keep track of beers you’ve tried and whether you liked it.  I used to write all that information down on bar napkins and keep them in a tissue box.  It was an effective practice until I caught the flu and sneezed my notes away. 

Ratings on Beer Advocate or Rate Beer are more detailed and have a more genuine feel but even they don’t come up to recommendations from knowledgeable beer people.  My go to place to find reliable and semi-reliable beer aficionados is the Table of Elders (T.O.E.) at the Libertine Pub.  To join the group you have to be of a certain adult age (I got a waiver), know a bit about beer (a 100 question quiz is mandatory or you can simply opt to pick up the tab), and you don’t mind been seen with them.  Personally, I would never want to join a group that would be so low as to accept me as a member, but I made an exception in this case.

As a T.O.E. member I was able to get some real insight into beers I should order. I asked one provisional member (he knows who he is) what he thought about the most recent Stone Enjoy By IPA.  He said it was terrible but acidly added “I hate IPAs”.  He repeated that several times along with sticking two fingers down his throat.  I struggled to figure out just what he meant.  Could all this be some sort of code?  Did two fingers mean it was better than the universal one finger salute?  If someone who hates IPAs says a specific one is terrible is he really saying it’s good if you like IPAs?  Is “terrible” an accolade compared to “hate”?  Does the rain in Spain fall mainly in the plain?

I then asked one of America’s favorite beer writers, my colleague, The Big G, what he thought about the Twin Lights New Zealand lager he was drinking.  He said it is just as good on draft as it is in the half emptied 16 ounce can in front of him.  Does he really mean they’re both equally bad? He then added a wry aside, “but it isn’t available in New Zealand”.  Was that code for a negative opinion about New Zealand or a bold statement about international trade and tariffs?  Is he hinting that wine rules there?  If so, it's a pour choice if you ask me.  I prefer beer goggles to wine glasses.

I next asked a true beer savant, Richie, who was sitting across from me, what he thought of the Guinness Export Stout he was drinking.  “It is simply outstanding” he said.  Did he mean I should be out standing in the parking lot so as not to bother him?  Did he mean it stood out from other stouts because it wasn’t as good?  I needed a clarification.  “How much do you like it?” I asked.  “It’s one of the best I’ve ever had” he said with a wry smile.  Could that mean it was the only stout he ever had? Did the smile suggest he was making a joke? Confusion reigned.  I decided to ease into the subject in a roundabout way by asking if the Guinness made in Ireland is better than the version made in Canada. He slyly answered my question with a question.  “Did you know Ireland is the fastest growing country in Europe?  Its population is always Dublin.”  I needed time to think about that one. A lot of time.

The T.O.E. is more than a brilliant, saintly, good looking, heroic, Olympic level beer guzzling group.  That’s more as in more by one.  Yes, one member is a real honest (we hope) to goodness, certified BJCP judge.  He has judged hundreds of events and is widely regarded as on of the top official beer judges on the East Coast.  We’re just not sure which country's east coast it is.  In a stroke of amazing serendipity, his last name is actually “Judge”.  I asked him what he thought of the Tripel Karmeliet he was drinking.  “Give me a few seconds to find some flaws” he said.  He was in full beer judge mode.  Finally he said "it's not bad" quickly adding, "however sometimes there nothing as bad as something that is not so bad."

While the Judge judged I turned to John and Bruce who were represented by two empty glasses we had placed on beer mats.  They couldn’t make it because they were working.  A feeble excuse if I ever heard one. Still, their silence spoke volumes but I wasn’t sure about what.  It was too hard to hear.

Lastly I turned to our leader, Brian, the founder of the T.O.E, the big TOE himself, Associate Professor of Beer Philosophy at my alma mater, Wossamotta U.  He had just taken several long sips of-Andechser Doppelbock Dunkel when I asked for his opinion of it. He took a thoughtful pose that caused me to look around for Auguste Rodin.  After several minutes he turned to the now silent, anxious table and solemnly said, “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar”. 

 There was no need for another word. 

For readers not fortunate enough to have a T.O.E branch or affiliated representatives at their pub I have been authorized by the Big Toe himself say that the best way to select a beer at a bar is to just ask for a taste.  After all, there's no better judge for you than you.  

    Professional Amateurs

by Vince Capano

Technically, “craft” isn’t a beer type or a notation of any special quality, achievement or accolade.  It just means the beer/brewery fulfills these requirements established by the Brewers Association –

Small

Annual production of 6 million barrels of beer or less (approximately 3 percent of U.S. annual sales). Beer production is attributed to a brewer according to rules of alternating proprietorships.

Independent

Less than 25 percent of the craft brewery is owned or controlled (or equivalent economic interest) by a beverage alcohol industry member that is not itself a craft brewer.

Brewer

Has a TTB Brewer’s Notice (a straightforward $39 fee to the government) and makes beer.

Conspicuously absent (maybe wisely so) is the requirement that it be good beer.

With around 7,800 breweries in the US and more opening daily simple logic says the odds are long that they are all making a quality product.  Many however are.  Yes, despite a numerically stacked deck, many new breweries that seem doomed for failure turn out to be surprising winners, the beer equivariant of the “miracle on ice” when U.S. beat the Soviets Olympic ice hockey, the New York Jets defeating the Baltimore Colts in Super Bowl III, or the “Fighting Penguins” of Juilliard College winning the NCAA Football Championship.  Okay, that one might be a stretch.  Let’s change it to playing the National Anthem at the game.

In strictly a business sense it’s not easy for a new brewery, even if it’s a good one, to survive.  They are in, as the pandemic wains, a very competitive marketplace that gets more competitive daily. Consider that from a volume standpoint there’s now more beer than ever occupying the same amount of space. That however is not necessarily a bad thing for we consumers though admittedly there are too many breweries for any mortal to experience in a lifetime.  However, I would give it a try if someone wants to loan me their private jet, provide an unlimited expense account, and a stomach double the size of Andre the Giant’s.

Despite not having any of those necessities I’ve soldiered on trying to find as many new breweries as possible.  That quest has led me to the conclusion that all craft is not good craft and in some cases not even up to macro standards..  My evidence may be anecdotal, but a good anecdote is essential, especially when dealing with snake bite, food poisoning, or a big hangover.

Most of the new breweries I’ve visited recently are small.  Feel free to throw a “very” in there.  They are usually helmed by an owner/brewer who was a decent homebrewer with a medal to his credit from some local beer club’s  version of the “Interstellar Universal Championship of Brewing Excellence” competition, or more accurately, a sparsely entered contest to see which beer is the least bad.  In it, he beat out the only other entries, one from a locksmith, Otis Campbell, who entered moonshine by mistake, and one by Beatrice Taylor that tasted like pickle juice. (If you’re not a fan of the Andy Griffith Show go back and skip those last 2 sentences,).  

Regardless any triumphs, the fact of the matter is that most home brewers are strictly amateurs.  That is of course until they get the financing to open a brewery.  That singular monetary achievement somehow instantly transforms  them into a true professionals, their marginal brewing ability notwithstanding.

No matter what your line of work there is a big difference between an amateur and a professional.  For example, the difference between an amateur thief and a professional thief is that the amateur says, "Give me all your money!", while the professional says, "Sign here please!".  Even in the world of fine arts that difference exists. Most amateur poets who attempt to write a novel fail. They didn’t realize that novels are for pros.  (Sorry)

For quite a while my BeerNexus colleague Dan Hodge has touted a local brewery called Harvard Veranda.  Note to the reader who cares about authenticity, I changed the name slightly so as not to offend anyone.  So, for the record, if you think I’m talking about Yale Terrace just forget those thoughts.

Dan’s slick lure was saying “this place makes the worse beer you’ve ever had.  You’ll have a lot of fun if you go.” While others who heard his declaration thought he was nuts, I didn’t have to think.  I knew. No, wait, I mean I knew it would be fun.  Dan, you see, is never wrong.  Well there was that one time he thought he was wrong but he was really right.  Dan went on to explain that he ordered two flights since that would enable him to taste every beer there.  Of the eight beers he said one was barely drinkable, three were unintentionally sour, and the rest were as bad as getting pre-declined credit card in the mail. As he got up to go, leaving beer on the bar for the first time in his legendary beer drinking life, the bartender told him the beers were all made by the owner who was an “award winning home brewer”. Enough said. 

I guess you’re wondering if anyone who heard Dan’s evaluation ventured out to (wink, wink) the “Harvard Veranda”.  Of course, I did.  It was, as he said, fun.  I had fun watching customers slug down everything on tap with happy enthusiasm and fun laughing at myself for being there.  I had the same 8 beers as Dan.  I left 7 half-filled glasses on the bar.  As I was about to leave the bartender asked if I would like a mini tour of the brewhouse since that’s “where the magic” happens.  I could only conclude it was Black Magic.

My next adventure was at a brand-new brewery called Tied Up which, once again is not the place’s actual name.  If you think it’s actually called Untied you’d be wrong.  Really wrong.  I’m not kidding.  Wrong. Noooooo. That’s not the place.  How did you know?  It too had an owner/brewer who was an award-winning homebrewer.  I know the award was legitimate because my friend Livingston Judge is also in that club that ran the competition.  Good enough for me.  I met Livingston there and he was all smiles as we entered thinking a treat awaited.  It must have been Halloween since there was no treat, only a trick.  And it wasn’t fun.  Bad, as I learned, can be fun but mediocre is annoying.  And trust me, I know mediocre.  In fact, I have a mediocre superpower. I can see into the future, but only to correct my own typos in this column.

Livingston agreed the beers were far from stellar. Living up to the integrity of his last name he entered a bunch of poor ratings on Untappd, the Internet bible of beer evaluations.  His honesty earned a backlash from fellow club members.  His triple, not secret, club probation ends next month.

My third example is Fort Nonsense Brewery.  That’s it’s actual name.  I didn’t change it mainly because there’s no categorical antonym for “fort” and as such proves they probably don’t care what’s written about them. I tried each of their 5 beers.  They were mediocre versions of the mediocre beers at “Tied Up”.   In a word, they were subpar, which coincidently describes the mediocre sandwich I had for lunch.  I have a feeling that joke fell as flat as the beer I had there.

The list could go on and on but I think you see the validity of my point whatever it was. 

All this begs the question - what if beer greats like Tree House, Trillium, Other Half, Russian River, and The Alchemist started out the same way?  If they had grown into greatness might not these homebrewer breweries and countless of their ilk do so too?  Truth, justice, and thirst required a return visit to see if they had changed. 

I waited three months before returning.  Undercover of course. I put a Band-Aid over the “BeerNexus” on my hat and two across the “BeerNexus” on my shirt.  Anonymity would insure a more objective experience.  I felt like John Taffer, the host of TV’s Bar Rescue, stealthy going in for reconnaissance. 

This time I visited the breweries in reverse order to be completely fair and because I got lost twice. Fort Nonsense had just opened their inside seating area, but all the seats were taken when I arrived.  I was told tables were available outside.  Shockingly each one was empty.  I huddled under my table’s small umbrella as the rain from a vicious thunderstorm continued to pour down, trying to figure out why no one was there.  Eventually I saw a notice “order at window”.  I was able to do that without getting too wet though that was not the case walking back since my pace was slowed by carrying a flight of three 5-ounce pours.  It might have been five 3 once pours or one ten and a five or…..all I knew for sure was that it was $16

The verdict - they had not improved.  They were not delicious, delightful, delectable, or de-lovely.  They were de-proved  I couldn’t even blame it on rainwater possibly getting into the glass since it could have only helped to un-grit a gritty NEIPA, smooth out a burnt, thick Porter, and dilute the off flavors in the Pale Ale.  Gone were the glory days of their mediocrity.

“Tied Up” also changed but for the better.   It had gone from being on the underside of below average to the heights of being just undistinguished, uninspired, and, unexceptional.  A tip of my mug to them since improvement of any kind should be acknowledged.  It’s progress not perfection that counts.  If they continue their current pace, they’ll take their place alongside Trillium and Tree House in less than a century or two.

It took a lot of courage, but I finally decided to also revisit the horrid “Harvard Veranda”.  Sometimes you have to take a hit for the team.  BeerNexus readers deserve the complete story.  My plans were set in stone.  No backing out.  Onward through the storm.  Full speed ahead and dam the torpedoes.  Fifty-Four Forty or fight. Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes.  Give me liberty or give me death. Remember the Alamo.  I was more than ready.  Then it hit me.  “Harvard Veranda” is closed on Tuesdays.  And guess what, the day I was going to visit was Tuesday.  There was nothing I could do except wait until next Tuesday and hope for the best.  I’m a patient person.  I was prepared to wait for dozens more Tuesdays.

Upon reflection perhaps I’ve been a bit too critical of these and other new homebrewer breweries.  Everyone has to start somewhere.  So, let me officially amend my original premise that some craft  breweries do not make good beer.  All beer is good, it’s just that some beer is better than others.

Mean To Make It Clean

Enjoying a few beers at the famed Libertine Tavern the other day I accidently knocked a glass from my buddy Brian’s tasting flight off the table.  Unforgiving gravity did the rest.  Now before you say I was guilty of alcohol abuse let me state that the glass was empty. 

The four-ounce glass broke into 11 pieces of various sizes. I know there was eleven since I tried to pick them up but stopped when an enterprising employee came over with a mop and a broom.  Fortunately, they were handy since he had just served a beer to a skeleton.  But why eleven pieces?  I’m not sure but I am sure that the spectacle brought screeching hoots and hollers from many of the other patrons.  I guess they had never seen a glass or a floor before.  At least not together. Anyway, that got me to thinking about beer glasses, which is a lot better than thinking about floors.,

First off, if you don’t use a glass to drink beer you might not be interested in reading beyond this point.  I won’t mind since you are probably a sloppy person.  After all, if you pour your beer out and don’t use a glass, things can get messy. 

Imagine it’s a joyous occasion - you have a beer in your hand.  It could be a longtime favorite, a new release, a barrel aged gem, a craft icon, or even macro swill. Perhaps you’re at a bar or a brewery and order a pint or a tasting flight.  The number one thing that can ruin your experience, other than seeing the bill, is to have the beer served in a dirty glass. 

We’ve all seen it though you might not have realized it when you did.  No, we’re not talking about lipstick on the rim, fingerprints on the sides, or a deceased fly interred on the rim.  Dirt can be much more subtle. Here’s the key telltale sign – if you see bubbles clinging to the side of your filled glass that means it’s dirty.  Some wise guy bartender might tell you it means the beer is appropriately carbonated, if so, then he put an appropriately carbonated beer in a dirty glass.

Not to worry or call the beer police when dirty glasses cross your path.  There are relatively easy fixes that can be applied, whether you’re drinking, at home or at a pub. 

Next time you’re at a bar, brewery, or restaurant watch how they clean their glasses.  There are two common ways glasses are cleaned.  Take a peek under the bar.  If you see only one sink it’s time to leave before catching one or more types of debilitating maladies.  If you see two sinks you can stay but make sure your vaccinations are up to date.  If you see three proceed on.  Next watch how the bartender cleans the glasses.  Most competent ones first take out any solid substances like an orange wedge from that pretend Belgium wheat ale covertly made by Coors, or blobs of food from someone who didn’t chew their meal properly.  

After that the first sink comes into play.  It’s filled with water that is used to rinse and scrub the glasses.  Unlike the brewing process, the kind of water doesn’t matter. Wet is the only operative element. The second sink should be filled with hot water.  How hot?  Most cleanliness experts like Mike Rowe and “Pig-Pen” Schulz agree that 120 degrees is the minimum to kill most bacteria and only cause tolerable first degree burns to the bartender’s hands.  The third sink is filled with sanitizer dosed water.  Note it’s not water dosed sanitizer. That sink also provides a convenient place to dip your hands in when you run out of Purell. 

Those who like not only the effect, but also the taste of sanitizer should take the glass from the third sink and immediately put it in the freezer or ask your bartender to do it.  The sanitizer will freeze directly onto the glass and the beer will then stick to it, giving even a Budweiser a unique, distinctive flavor profile. 

The second most common way to clean a glass is with a dedicated glasswasher. No, not some kid in the back room applying an aqua-thermal treatment on glass under a constrained environment, but a machine.  Think of it as an Alexa that performs a service but doesn’t eavesdrop on everything you say.  Larger ones will employ a rack system while smaller ones can be individually hand loaded. These will use steam heat to make sure that the glasses are clean and ready once they are removed. Warning – when you open the door don’t try catching the released steam, it’s easy to mist.

Also note that if you or a bar serve mixed drinks, like White Russians, the milk fat contained in the dominant ingredient can leave residue on other glasses, causing that dreaded schmutz.  By the way, there’s good news for “schmutz” fans.  It was just admitted to the august precincts of the Scrabble dictionary though its adjectival form, schmutzig has not.  That doesn’t seem quite fair.

I’m guessing that there are some rare instances where a home doesn’t have a dedicated dishwasher, or three sink equipped wet bar.  After asking “why not?” there are few things I recommend that the dedicated beer drinker do to make sure his beer glass is clean each time. 

Head out to the local dollar store or go online (and pay ten times it’s worth) for a brush with soft bristles.  Any kind of brush will do though an official beer bottle brush with an A+ rating from the BBBB (Beer Bottle Brush Bureau) is best. The key is to only use that brush for glassware.  You will be tempted to double up on soup bowls, dinner plates, and other items that touch food.  Don’t do it unless you want ultra tiny, unseen bits of stale tacos, un-popped popcorn, slimy spinach, and anything else you eat to be in your glass.

When you use the brush remember it’s a cleaning utensil not a hair grooming device.  Use some energy and pay attention to the seams and crevices in the glass.  Every kind of glass, regardless of its design, has a lot of places where debris can hide.  You are on a search and destroy mission with the operative word being the latter.  May the Force be with you.

According to the instructor in my Cicerone class it’s always best to use a non-petroleum-based dish washing liquid. Easy for him to say.  If you’re like me, you have no idea which dish washing liquids are petroleum based and which are not.  I have enough problem just telling dish, clothes, floor, and drain detergents apart, never mind knowing their ingredients.  It’s akin to knowing who really owns Elysian, Blue Point, Devil’s Point, Anchor, and Ballast Point breweries.  It’s not always on the label.  Since I usually buy whatever dish washing liquid is on sale, my luck ensures it probably is petroleum based. Sometimes it seems the world is a bowl of schmutz. 

One big problem with the proper non-petroleum based liquid and that bottle on my kitchen sink with the bright spring flowers that gets my dishes and paper plates semi-clean, is that they both leave a residue behind. Because of that, before using any cleaned glass it is important, be it at home or a bar, for the glass to be thoroughly rinsed out. 

Most good bars use a small “star” sink, or rinser.   You simply press the glass rim down onto the rinser, which shoots a spray of water into it.  As a bonus you’ll find that a just rinsed glass is more slippery, meaning there’s less friction when beer fills it. This allows for a more fragrant head.  It also means there’s a better chance you’ll drop it providing some free entertainment for any onlookers.

At home you should simply pull your sink tap handle back and rinse the glass thoroughly.  Then do it again.  After that, allow your glasses to drip/air dry.  Do not use a towel, dishcloth, shirt sleeve, handkerchief, curtain, or any other nearby cloth.  For those who are extremely fastidious, try bringing your glasses to the local firehouse and have them hose them out.  The extra pressure in the line works every time though expect some breakage.

All this talk about beer glasses begs one big question – what kind of glass should you use for beer? We all know that the type of glass can enhance the taste of your beer though it will do nothing to enhance beer that has no taste.

There are as many styles of beer glasses as there are companies and websites willing to sell them to you.  Some are truly functional, some beautifully designed, some easy to hold, and many as boring as jokes about clones, they're all the same.  In my opinion every serious craft drinker should have 5 different glasses in their residence, plus dozens more with colorful logos that you, ah, absent mindedly,  put in your pocket at many a bar and brewery.   

As for the five essentials here they are -

The pint glass.  Even this ubiquitous item has sub-categories. In the UK there is the 20 ounce  Imperial Pint which was adopted as an official measure by the British Parliament in 1824. In the US we have a 16-ounce pint glass that magically only holds just 12 ounces when the bartender at my local pub fills it up.

The “shaker” pint has a slightly inverted cone shape with a widening near the top edge  that allows the formation of creamy foam.  Its shape also enables the glasses to be stacked inside each other.  If you only have one glass then that’s not a big deal.

The mug. These are sturdy vessels made of thick glass, smooth or dimpled, with a handle that prevents the heat of the hand from cooling the beer and you from dropping it.  Mugs come in different denominations: The “Mass or Maß” is a one-liter beer mug, like you see at the Oktoberfest celebrations. It’s a must have mainly because it holds a lot of beer meaning you don’t have to get up to go to the fridge as often. There are other versions of mugs which come in various sizes.  They are shaped like an inverted conical glass and, well, come on, you know what a mug is.

The Pilsner glass.  These are tall, slender and conical holding about 12 ounces, often looking like a trumpet. Its form showcases the beer’s color/clarity/carbonation.  It also allows foam retention to maintain the flavor and aroma of the beer.  While it most enhances pilsners, you can pour other styles of beer into the glass, but you do so at your own risk.    

The Tulip glass.  This glass’ curved tulip-shaped design favors the capture of the aromatic qualities of beer, while its tight mouth allows the formation of a thick layer of foam.  Its size is also perfect for potting flowers, most notably (you guessed it) tulips.

The Snifter glass. – This one has a full rounded bottom surface that is designed to increase the transfer of heat from the hand, to warm up the beer.  Think of it as a reverse Coors Light can.  Instead of wanting the mountains to turn blue you want them red. The upper part narrows inward to enhance and capture aromas.

The sifter's cousin is the chalice.  This type of glassware creates a dense, thick foam that retains the beer's intense aromas on the surface while allowing proper oxygenation. Its wide mouth allows the drinker to take deep sips giving you an opportunity to chug but with some class.

There is one last thing you should know about your beer glass regardless of size or shape - never look at it as being  half empty, look at it as halfway to your next beer.

It's hard not to admire someone who can knock down a flight of six glasses each filled with five ounces of craft beer in about 30 seconds, under the bright lights of national TV no less.  It's even harder not to respect someone who holds the Guinness world's record for using a saber to open champagne bottles at 51 in one minute. And it's downright impossible not to totally love the guy who is the singular ambassador of drinking to the world along with being 2020's Craft Beer Marketing's Man of the Year. There is only one who has done all that. He is Zane Lamprey. 

There's no doubt that if there's a vote for most enviable person on the planet, Zane Lamprey would be the odds-on favorite to win.  An election upset would be impossible especially since I have an ample supply of phony mail-in ballots left over from the last election. 

For well over a decade, Zane's job has entailed two basic things: travel and drink.  Joining him in many of his adventures are buddies Steve McKenna, and Pleepleus.  Steve's name has become synonymous with high levels of intoxication. As Zane explained, "You're buzzed if you get the courage to talk to someone that you wouldn't talk to when you're sober. You're drunk if you try to kiss someone that you wouldn't talk to when you're sober. And you're 'Steve McKenna'd' if after talking to and kissing that person you lick their face"  As for Pleepleus, he's a stuffed toy monkey. Once you say that there's not much more to add.

Zane, a mild-mannered comedian, actor, writer, producer by day he is a TV drinking icon by night...and of course day too.  He has built a career as a drinking traveler. Or maybe a traveling drinker. Either way it works to the delight of his millions of fans around the world who know him as their "wish I was him" guy staring in cable network shows like "Three Sheets" and "Drinking Made Easy". No need to wonder what the shows are about. The titles tell it all.

Three Sheets remains the pinnacle and gold standard for drinking shows that travel the world. Admittedly I don't know of any other. It ran for four seasons and earned Zane a legion of fans who still revel in the 52 episodes originally aired from 2006 to 2009 on networks like Mojo HD, FLN, Travel, and Spike. Yes, those really were networks, of a sort. 

It's clear that anyone who creates, writes, and produces a series featuring him drinking beer (and just about anything else with alcohol) on the air, to the point of extreme happiness, is fearless in today's Puritan Cosmos.  He even details a drinking game for viewers to play during each show which today might not pass network censors or escape social media vigilantes. Then again, that might explain why those shows expired from the airwaves.  Not to worry, they survive and prosper in places like Prime Video, youtube, and many others. 

I know you're interested in the drinking game. Who wouldn't be? The rules are simple.   When someone in the show burps (the show is, after all, not on PBS) the last in your group to acknowledge it with the sign of the Z - thumb on forehead, finger on top of head - has to drink, point out continuity issue and someone has to drink, if Steve is mentioned you drink, if you see Pleepleus you drink. If you watch the show you drink. Supposedly the game increased the show's ratings dramatically. I wonder if my column would get more readers if there was an Adventures in Beerland drinking game? You read the word "beer" you drink. You see a typo you drinnkk. You come across a punctuation error;,you.drink.;: ; You can't stand reading anymore of this, you drink.

The shows allowed Zane to travel to over 72 countries and multiple domestic locales. Each place has its own exotic libations, drinking culture, and cast of characters.  And yes, Zane got paid for it. For those of us who can't live that dream, we at least can take pride in the fact that one representative of humanity does. His only occupational hazard is a hangover but with each one he can console himself by knowing he took a hit for the team. Just another reason why he is so adored by fans and the makers of Tylenol.

Oh, before I continue let me unequivocally state that Mr. Lamprey, BeerNexus, and I, all support drinking in moderation. No, not the bar. The Moderation Pub closed last week because of the pandemic. Moderation was a wondrous place to go to have a beer. As people say, everything is fine, in Moderation.

As to his personal imbibing Zane says, "Back at a certain point it was drinking to have fun. Now it's more about the discovery, the journey.  It's more about the product than the effect." He said that with a straight face, proving his bonafides as a professional comedian.

Three Sheets is more than just a drinking show, though some find that part a bit subtle. It's a history lesson, a seminar on indigenous alcoholic beverages, a geography treatise, and a unifying look at people who drink just like us. You won't see Zane focusing on the typical tourist traps. Instead of statues of dictators, you'll see him search out the elusive Zubrowka, illegal in America but very popular in Poland.  Instead of a tour bus to the middle of the spring break area of Mexico, you'll follow him on the Tequila Train to the heart of tequila-making country. You'll watch him taste the finest champagnes and cognacs in their respective regions in France and learn from master vintners about how they are made. I even eschewed beer for that episode and played the drinking game with the top-rated champagne I could find for under $6. I sprung for Andre Brut, at $5.99 for a 750ml bottle.  I knew it was a winner the minute I saw it had a cork and not a screw off cap.

I did not emulate Zane when he had a 100-proof kaoliang infused with snake blood in Taipei or sipped Scotch that they said cost ten thousand dollars a bottle in Scotland. That was a dumb purchase considering he could have had 1,666.667 bottles of Andre Brut instead. 

On the shows he enjoyed a dozen varieties of vodka in Poland, traced the path of the Malbec grape from France to Argentina, and visited a bar in Belgium that serves more than two thousand beers.  I was particularly disappointed in that bar, despite its having a lot of different shaped glasses, because not one of the two thousand beers was my favorite one, Neshaminy Creek Shape of Hops to Come. Because of that I had no choice but to cancel my trip to Belgium this year and substitute Croydon, PA.  It's an even trade-off.

My favorite part of the shows is not necessarily the educational or drinking components. It's the people who wander in and out of the bars, wineries, and distilleries that Zane is visiting. There was a guy who grabbed Zane's beer and downed it in seconds, a character who kept coming over to his table to beg for free champagne, a Dublin firefighter who beat Zane in a (disputed) chugging contest, and an angry Jamaican rum maker who was more than livid that Zane didn't sip, but chugged, a glass of her expensive, rare, 25 year old, world renown, rum. And there were others, from Dukes to doormen, vintners to winos, mixologists to just mixed up, that he meets along the way. It's a showcase of real people enjoying real drink, having real fun with Zane, who is as real as any of us. 

Perhaps the most important lesson of Zane's shows is that you can spend hundreds of dollars to go on a tour to see the country and learn about its history, but if you were to spend that in a pub buying a few rounds, you'll learn much more about the people who made the land and who live the history.  According to Zane "nothing works better as a social lubricant and to get people to open up than buying a round. You'll get some great advice about where the locals eat and drink, will probably get invited to hang out with them again, and will most likely make some friends for life." Zane, next time you're in the area buy me a few rounds and I'll be happy to prove you right.

In December 2020 Zane was named Craft Beer's Marketing's Man of the Year. Considering all he's done for beer drinking the award was long overdue. However, since this was the first time the award was ever given, I can overlook that.  Zane, too, in his acceptance speech harbored no rancor for not getting the award sooner as he said "I had a professor in college tell me that drinking beer wouldn't advance my career. He was wrong," Zane laughed, "I couldn't be more honored to be the first Craft Beer Marketing Awards Man of the Year. I'd say I'm speechless, but as a comedian I'm not capable of that."

In presenting the award CBMAS co-founder Jim McCune said "For over a decade, the name Zane Lamprey has been synonymous with beer. I first saw Zane on the TV show Three Sheets, where he introduced us to libations from all over the world. He did so with a genuine appreciation for the locals and a hilarious sense of humor that kept us entertained." Unfortunately, Mr. McCune was all business. If I was giving the speech, at that point I would have burped then immediately made the "sign of the Z".

Zane would have approved.

The power of the pen is indeed mighty.  It can move people to tears, inspiration, anger, greed, and joy.  It can topple

empires, make and break, kings.  It can get you to do what you don’t want to do. The internet has many such people of the pen.  Sometimes they’re called “influencers”. Technically an influencer in social media is a person who has built a reputation for their knowledge and expertise on a specific topic, usually a meaningless one. They make regular posts about that topic and generate large followings of enthusiastic, engaged, easily led people who pay close attention to their views no matter how silly they might be.

There are various types of influencers, or practitioners of social media shilling.  There are the mega influencers - people with a vast number of followers on social networks. They usually have more than 1 million followers on at l east one platform and make an impressive income stealthily promoting things.  There are micro-influencers who are one step down on the scale followed by the nano-influencers who only have a small number of followers.  They tend to be experts in obscure or highly specialized fields.  I’m personally a nano influencer on the topic of ventriloquist mimes who also do Elvis impersonations.  Recently I just doubled the number of my followers to 2.

Then there are beer writers who justifiably wield a special influence over their readers and even on other beer writers.  I refer specifically to my colleague, the widely read Glenn “The Big G: Deluca whose January 2021 column about NA and Zero Alcohol beers was a revelation to me.  I learned far more than I ever wanted to know about no- alcohol beer. He influenced me to try some for myself.  

Since BeerNexus demands full transparency (if the Invisible Man was a website this would be it) I do admit that my flirtation with NA/Zero beers also was influenced by the fact that I was on antibiotics for a sinus/ear infection.  Now I know you’re thinking I should have asked the doctor if it was okay to drink beer while taking the medication.  I did. In fact, I asked several doctors in a determined quest to find at least one who would say go ahead and knock a few pints down.  I couldn’t.  Eventually I was able to find one inebriated pharmacist at my local pub who told me that with the medicine I was taking, drinking “in moderation” was okay.  I once drank in a bar called Moderation, but I don’t think that’s what he meant.   Besides he seemed to actually be enjoying a pint of Bud Clamato which immediately

lowered his credibility.

All the doctors I spoke to agreed that to get the full benefit from the pills I should stay away from alcohol for the ten days it would take to finish them all.  So be it, but it’s easier said than done.  After all it’s my job.  Well, technically

drinking beer isn’t my job but writing about it is.  One without the other is a bit hard to do. They go together like a horse and carriage.  It's a combination you can't disparage, you can’t have one without the other. Then I read The Big G’s informative and fun article.  Here was the answer to my prayers.  I could drink beer and still follow doctor’s orders.

I rushed out to my local beer store.  Of course, I wore a mask. It was the Deadpool mask I used last Halloween. Hey, I'

didn’t want anyone seeing me buying this stuff.  And being a good citizen, I wore a virus protection mask over that. I’m worried about catching the virus.  It may be a matter of chance but I’m not the lucky type.  With my luck if I was a

politician I’d be an honest one.

The store is a regular stop for me.  It’s a huge place with hundreds of beers. It is so big people have been known to get lost in it for days at a time.  A few of them unintentionally.  Navigation for me was not a problem however since knew every part of the place or at least I thought so.  It took me nearly 40 minutes to find the NA section.  I had never been there before since in the past N-A was an N-O.  With deft use of my phone’s GPS I found the section, well hidden in the far end cooler near the employees only auxiliary washroom.  The cracked glass of the door of the cooler was half covered by a yellowing poster of Clydesdales merrily pulling a 50-ton beer truck (their smile had to have been CGI) over the saying “Wassup?! - Budweiser”.  It was a classic. But not in a good way.  Think of it like the difference between a classic ’57 Chevy and a classic ’57 Renault Dauphine.

Unfortunately, I forgot to print out Glenn’s article as a reference, so I was on my own as I looked at the three NA and

one Zero beer the store had.  Clearly even this behemoth of beer purveyors didn’t give these types of beers any

respect.  Store management must think everyone hates these kinds of beers.  That’s ridiculous, everyone hasn't tried

them yet.

Despite knowing about the amazing sales growth of NA/Zero beer I do admit to thinking I was in for a bout of liquid sadness.  After all, simply because a lot of people buy something doesn’t make it good.  Think of the countless people who bought Beanie Babies, the Pet Rock, double neck guitars, AstroTurf indoor dog potty rugs, and gold infused Lord of the Rings miniature replica helmets made by the Franklin Mint.

Despite your taste buds providing evidence to the contrary it’s important to note that non-beer begins its life as real

beer before the alcohol content is stripped. Therein lies a problem; alcohol is a flavor itself, adding dryness,

mouthfeel and a soothing warmth. Without it, you get many NA beers that are sweet and syrupy, perfect for topping

on your breakfast pancakes.  I personally prefer Lawson’s Finest Liquids’ Fayston Maple Imperial Stout drizzled over

my pancakes.  For those who fancy themselves as a homegrown Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen give Porter Beer

Pancakes with Porter Maple Butter Sauce a try.  Cooking tip – drink all leftover Porter and another pint for good luck.  

Chef Ramsey will never know.

Looking in the cooler my first surprise was that the NA beers were priced the same as most regular non-craft alcohol beers, around $10 for a six pack.  That’s $10 you pay them, not the other way around.  Essentially, you’re paying for what’s not there.  It’s like paying the same price for the same size box of pasta that used to contain 16 ounces but now holds 13.25 ounces or a bag of Doritos which now hold 20 percent fewer chips than before.  If you don’t believe me count the chips yourself.  

A store employee saw me trying to look through the cooler glass and asked if I was lost.  I told him it was just the opposite; I had found the section of NA beers.  He looked surprised and simply said “Why?”.  Not wanting to cause a scene I responded by saying “it’s for a friend,” He nodded and said the selection is small since they just sold a six pack last month.  He pointed to some scribbled tasting notes left by an anonymous  defrocked Cicerone on the Clydesdales’ poster, fittingly on horses’ rear end.  It was a review of the NA beer Sol Cero which “tastes like stale corn flakes in milk. awful!  Watery, no carbonation, and it’s skunked.”  Other than that, I guess he liked it.

I opted for three beers I had heard of – Sharps, Heineken 0.0. and Lagunitas IPNA.   I figured it would show me the wide range of flavors in the category since there was an immense difference in their ABVs going from 0.0% all the way to 0.5%.  That reminds me of my favorite actor Keanu Reeves whose acting skill runs the gamut of emotions from A to B.  If you’ve never seen him in a John Wick film, you should. How can you resist an action flick with the line “John isn’t exactly ‘The Boogeyman', he’s the one you send to kill the f**kin’ Boogeyman.”

Almost forgot – back to the beers.  Sharps is made by Miller.  It looks like Miller. Smells like Miller. Tastes like Miller

but with a double water chaser.  It is flat and lightly sweet.  Its best feature is an odd chemical something in the very

brief finish that leads me to think it was made with authentic Chernobyl water.

Heineken 0.0, when you drink it really cold, is reminiscent of Heineken, but there’s something vaguely still missing –

beer.  It’s somewhat malty, grainy and skunked just like its regular strength big brother.  It starts off decently but then

hops and malts are suddenly phased out to leave a dry, metallic taste.  The beer is vaguely acceptable, which you

can take as a compliment…..or not.

Lagunitas IPNA certainly has a clever name.  It must be clever since it took me several hours to figure out what the “N” stands for.  No, it’s not for nose though this beer has one though not of Cyrano de Bergerac proportions.  Its nose features noticeable smells of hops, pine and citrus up front, with a touch of dank green onion in the back- ground.  Taste is similar but far less intense with a light hop and caramel flavor.  Some pine notes appear at the finish.  It’s not terrible and is quite tasty with a double shot of vodka, stirred not shaken, in it.

As the days of my pill taking wore on my beer frustration grew.  I sought the advice of another BeerNexus colleague, the erudite Dan Hodge who has some expertise in the medical field.  He once was the second understudy to an actor playing Dr. Moriarty in a community theater revival of the Medical Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.  Good enough for me.  Dan told me to start drinking beer immediately, that doctors always say not to have it with antibiotics only because it’s what they were incorrectly told in medical school. To prove his point, he ended by saying “look around, there are more old drunks than old doctors.  So who are you going to believe?”

I’m now healthy and better for the experience.  After ten days without any alcohol the biggest lesson I learned is I should feel sorry for teetotalers, when they wake up in the morning that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.

Who wouldn’t want to be snug as a bug in a rug?  Even better, who wouldn’t want to be snug in a snug especially when that snug is in a pub?  Snugs are part of the grand Irish drinking tradition, probably the one part that is harder to find in modern pubs than a shoeless female leprechaun carrying a made in China plastic Shillelagh drinking a non-alcoholic beer

Prior to the 1950s, Ireland’s drinking establishments were almost exclusively the domain of men, and few respectable women could or would be seen drinking inside. It wasn’t a law, but it was the reigning social convention.  And in fact, many bars wouldn’t let women in (I wonder if they can retroactively sue?). But that doesn’t mean that Irish women never enjoyed an adult beverage. They just did it in a slightly less conspicuous way: inside a small, screened-off room attached to the bar called a snug.  Why they just didn’t disguise themselves as roving Shakespearian actors looking to join Robin Hood in County Cork Forest is beyond me.   And no, I only failed geography and history once.

Almost every Irish pub of the 19th and early 20th century, had a snug for women and anyone else who didn’t want to be seen having a pint or two.  These would generally have a small window for bartenders to pass drinks through so no one could see the patron. Many also had locks so that they couldn’t be opened from the outside, giving whoever was inside almost total privacy.  Think of it as a Catholic Confessional in a bar but without a priest or sanctification. It did however, like its ecclesiastical cousin, sometimes have a sinner inside.

Over time, as it became more socially acceptable for women to head to the bar, snugs began to disappear.  Bars

modernized by adding classier lounges where people of both genders could acceptably order drinks. Proprietors also realized that snugs took up quite a bit of room—they were often attached to the end of a bar, with only those in the snug having access to that part of the counter. Getting rid of the snug meant more people could get to the bar. Yes, back in those bygone days bars could seat to capacity; they weren’t required to limit patrons due to Covid 19 restrictions.  In fact, it was so long ago that the Covid was still in single digit numbers.

As such I felt like I was stepping back in history when I entered the legendary (infamous) Excelsior Pub and found that a quiet little room off to the side of the entrance hallway had somehow become a snug.  I had passed the room many

 times walking to the main bar and not given it a second thought.  It was just a small space with large windows and one

door.  It held a single table, five chairs and banquette seating along the wall.  I had never seen anyone in it until now.  Little did I realize that the only thing this island of solitude needed to become a snug were people drinking.  And this time that’s just what was there.

Five regulars from the Table Of Elders beckoned me to join them as I walked by. The Table of Elders, or TOE as it is known in the pub, is led by group founder Brian Lynch, the Big TOE.  Somehow, he put together a loosely organized eclectic group of sage senior beer aficionados and connoisseurs of classical music from maestro Spike Jones and the dulcet singing of William Shatner. That explains why it’s a small group.  Making an exception to their minimum age requirements they allowed me to join.  I only had to buy four consecutive rounds.  Every meeting.  Every week.  It’s a stiff tariff but it’s impossible to put a value on their wisdom.

Brian explained that the bar and dining area seemed crowded, so he simply commandeered the room.  I have a feeling he too realized that populating the space would transform it.  Maybe it was wishful thinking nestled in a hidden part of his  mind, or maybe he saw it as a vital stop in the vast design of the beer drinking universe ; or perhaps, for a thoughtful, insightful man like Brian, he saw it as a place around the bend where the TOE could jump off into a time where beer was still king. Whatever it was, he had made the perfect choice.  With sunlight, smiles, and serenity, we were now in a snug.

As the beer talk began, I glanced down at my menu.  It seemed to take quite a while for my eyes to focus on it.  As they cleared, I shook my head several times at what I saw.  There was Blatz ("Milwaukee's Favorite Premium Beer"), Schaefer (The one beer to have when you’re having more than one.), Schlitz (“The Beer That Made Milwaukee Famous”), Ballantine ("Hey! Getcha Cold Beer), Rheingold ("The dry beer—think of Rheingold whenever you buy beer"), JAX (“The beer of friendship.”), Iron City (“The Beer Drinkers’ Beer”), and Stroh's ("For when you're feelin' classy, but not too classy." – and you wonder why they went bankrupt).  The “import” section listed lagers from Darty and Clonmel, porters and stouts from Beamish and Guinness, and the venerable Kilkenny Cream Ale.  Classics they were but I knew some had long been out of business. How could the Libertine now be serving them? Not only that,   nary a single cloudy New England brew nor double or triple anything was listed.  If you ordered a Belgium Tripel in this snug, you’d probably just get three glasses of classic lager.

I was in for another surprise when our server appeared.  She wore a blue checkered dress short enough to allow for easy movement yet long enough to meet the demands of modesty, a white apron, a white collar, and short sleeves with peaked white trim. Atop her head was a stiff, white, little hat.  Her apron had pockets which were more functional than fashionable since it held an actual pencil and a pad to take down orders. Even more surprising, she also wore a smile and seemed happy to serve us

The special of the day was a flight of four 4-ounce pours – one each of Schlitz, Ballantine, Rheingold, and Stroh’s all for $1.98.  It was a premium price but look what you were getting.  My flight was duly delivered but this time by a male

server who doubled as the bartender.  Like his distaff counterpart he too was nattily attired.  He wore a single- breasted white jacket, sans lapels of course.  He might have passed for a pharmacist which is no surprise since a bartender is much like one albeit with a limited inventory.  His trousers were black as was a perfectly made bow tie on a crisp, white shirt.  He too smiled and seemed happy to serve us.  It was nothing like I’ve ever seen before.

Later the manager stopped in to ask how we were doing.  I can’t be the only one who thought he looked a lot like Rod Serling.

As a serious beer person, I followed the official flight drinking rules according to the PAABDMR (Pompous Arbiters of All Beer Drinking Meaningless Rules).  Fortunately, I had been studying for my Cicero Aurelius Nero Certification so knew them well. I began tasting in the alphabetical order of the first letter of the brewery name.  In case of a tie I went with the brewery’s location with the farthest West going first.  If there was still a tie I started with the glass with the most liquid in it.  If there was yet another tie, I would order a martini.

I noticed my fellow group members eschewed flights and boldly ordered full pours.  Two sizes were available – 8 and 12 ounces.  In what seemed like an instant they too were served creating an awkward silence around the room since we didn’t have our usual 30 minutes of conversation complaining about slow service.

Snugs do not have TVs or juke boxes.  They simply have quiet, broken only by spoken, not shouted, discussions.   Even so, some of the chatter from the bar area waffled in.  I picked up bits and pieces of a lively argument about who was the better baseball player Joe DiMaggio or Ted Williams,  Hal Newhouser or Bob Feller along with barely audible music which I thought sounded like Stardust by Artie Shaw and I’ll Never Smile Again by Frank Sinatra.  The sounds really didn’t intrude at all.  Things simply seemed as they should be.  I began to think maybe I had too much to drink so I ordered a Tripel.  Right, I got three glasses of Schafer.  That was fine with me; they only added to the perfection of a perfect afternoon.

After several hours we said our goodbyes and decided to meet again the next day at 2:30. I arrived a few minutes early and headed straight for the snug.  Blocking the entrance was a sign that said, “Closed For Renovation”.  I looked in the window. The same tables and chairs were there but I could tell something was different.  It was just another small room that needed an upgrade.

I turned and saw Brian waving at me.  He and the rest of the TOE were seated at a large table in the corner of the main bar/dining area.  I walked past blaring TVs showing soccer and basketball games, past people arguing who was the better baseball player Mike Trout or Christian Yelich, past a juke box with someone rapping “laugh now, cry later”, to the table.  I sat down and was glad to see they had ordered for me.  After a long wait a harried server in a green Libertine  t-shirt appeared with a Tripel - Westmalle Trappist Tripel to be specific.  I asked the Elders if they noticed anything different today compared to yesterday in the back room.  No, they said, adding there’s a bit more space for us here up front.  I knocked down the Tripel and then switched to Double IPAs but even those didn’t help me understand how these wise individuals didn’t notice anything special yesterday.  Maybe it was just me.  Did I have one too many?  It has been known to happen.  Instead of little pink elephants perhaps I simply had a different, though classier, hallucination. I vowed to give up beer for at least seven days.  Okay, it was for a day.

Not wanting to rush the start of my teetotalling pledge I finished off another couple of pints then said my goodbyes to the group.  As I turned to leave Brian picked something up from the floor and said, “this just fell out of your pocket” and handed it to me.  It was a coaster with a drawing of the globe and a banner going across it that just  said “Schlitz”.  On the back side there was another Schlitz banner with the slogan “when it’s right you know it.”   

I sat back down and smiled.  I was now sure that for at least one day I really had been in the snug where time stood still. 

It's the end of the year. Time sure flies during a pandemic.  If you are going to miss 2020 raise your hand.  Ah, a bithigher please. That's what I thought.  It was not the best of times and might have been the worst of times.  The year

was so bad even beer didn't taste good.  No, not because I had the Covid, and no again, we're not talking about my

homebrew.

We're all hoping for a great 2021.  And in fact I'm sure it will be.  Recently after drinking several beers of dubious

quality but with an undubious double digit ABV, a sudden insight into the future hit me. I felt the presence of the ghost

of the great Beer Hunter himself, Michael Jackson.  He was pulling back a heavy thick veil with the Independent

Brewers logo on it to show me the future.  While I would have preferred him simply giving me a winning lottery number

his revelations about beer were uplifting nonetheless.  I clearly saw that it will be a memorable beer year. Perhaps he

would have eventually given me that number but I had to get up for another beer and that somehow broke the

trance.  At least I remembered these sixteen things that will happen in 2021to pass on to you.  In an amazing

coincidence they are exactly whit I had wished for.

1. Craft breweries will limit themselves to making just one session beer a year and then only in small quantities.  It's

almost impossible to make low ABV beers taste as good as their full bodied big boy brothers so why waste resources

and time trying? Anyone looking for a low alcohol beer can simply buy a Budweiser and add some water. Actually the

water is optional since it would taste the same with or without it.  For the serious session geeks who want a barrel

aged taste a small oak mug complete with a package of 100% GMO synthetic wood chips will be available online.

There will be a separate shipping and handling fee for the chips

2.  The Great American Beer Festival, Beer Judge Certification Program, and all other official, semi-official, and

meaningless but arrogantly pretentious authorities will reduce the number of beer style categories that receive

awards at competitions.  The move for this has already started as the 2020 GABF went from awarding 107 to 90

medals.  That's about a 15% reduction.  That may sound drastic but it really wasn't.  Here is what they did.  Baltic

Porter became a subcategory of International Dark Lager, Belgian Dubbel (does the name Quasimodo ring da bell?)

was combined with Tripel for a new category called Belgian Style Abbey Ale which also includes a new subcategory

called Other Belgian Style Abbey Ale.  And Fresh Hop beer was placed in a subcategory of Experimental Beer. Huh?  

Not to worry,  in 2021 there will be only two categories winning medals - Best Lager and Best Ale.  All other entries

get a participation certificate.

3.  The hottest new beer will be a revolutionary non-juicy, bright (not cloudy), knock your socks off bitter, piney,

alternate version of a New England IPA featuring hops forward, backward, and in the middle, balance be dammed.

For those who say I just described a serous West Coast IPA you're probably right but it would never sell with a nam

e like that.  No, this new beer will simply be known as NNEIPAOOOS.  The few who take time to look it up will see it

stands for New New England India Pale Old Old Old School.  Eat your heart out Heady Topper fans.

4.  The seemingly never ending, irresistible siren call of hard seltzer will come to a whimpering end.  No longer will

beer sales take second place to the inexplicably high numbers posted by fermented sugar water. Hard seltzer will be

done in by a simple and more pure concoction - plain seltzer water with a small attached bottle of flavored vodka. For

those favoring a stronger version instead of vodka the bottle will contain Everclear.  There will be a lively black

market for this in the eleven states that currently ban the high octane (190 proof) neutral grain spirit.  Eventually half

of those states will legalize it but only for intra-state imbibing.

5. Six packs of 12 oz. cans will replace craft beer's ubiquitous four packs of 16 oz. cans as modern science proves

conclusively that 72 ounces is more than 64.  People will also come to appreciate the emotional and spiritual uplift

provided by opening cans and filling glasses more often.  Special weighted cans will be offered to those seeking to  

combine exercise with their drinking.

6.  Clueless people who rate beers on various websites will be required to write at least one sentence explaining why

they gave that score.  Non-partisan, independent panels of beer drinkers will review all submitted reasons before

allowing the post to ensure that things like "it has a good taste and is easy to drink" will never, ever again appear on

anything but a t-shirt.  Although this will cause a massive drop in reviews posted no one will care.

7.   In a stunning turnaround no beer writer or industry sage will predict that lagers will finally be making a comeback.  

However because of the historical importance of the beer those oft wrong soothsayers will be required to drink

nothing but lagers for six months so as to keep the style alive and as penance for making us read the same baloney

over and over for the past two decades.

8.  Several states will pass laws mandating anyone drinking at a brewery tasting room to have a beard.  While all

people who are professionally associated with breweries have long had that as a workplace requirement it will be a

first for patrons.  To help them and in an effort to avoid lawsuits by members of beardless pressure groups,

breweries will make use of no longer needed Covid face masks by gluing artificial hair to them.  They will be given out

for free with the purchase of one beer thereby meeting the legal requirement.  Several breweries following this

practice will be nominated for the National Green Industry Award but lose in a controversial decision over late arriving

mail -in votes from Chicago.

9.  Beer labels will be required to have all printed material in contrasting color to the can's background and in large

enough font to make it legible to a person with 20/200 visual acuity from a distance of 15 feet.  Many people will

consequently stop being lured by exquisite can art into not knowing what they were buying .The label will include all

pertinent and non-pertinent information about the brewing process, ownership, location, malts, water, and hops. The

brewer's home address will also clearly be printed in case picketing and harassment is needed to protest an

undrinkable drain pour.

10.  In a much ballyhooed blind taste test before a record pay per view TV audience a craft beer will beat Wayfarer

Golden Mean Pinot Noir 2014, Elijah Craig's 23 Year Old Single Barrel bourbon, the Balvenie 21 Year Old Port Wood

Scotch, and HWD CLIX Vodka as the Best Drink In The World.  The award will be rescinded when it is discovered that

the brewery is secretly owned by Anheuser-Busch and had long ago been unceremoniously tossed out of the

Brewer's Association.

11.  Cooking with beer will become a national craze.  Some people will actually put it in the food.  My heretofore

secret recipe for Mashed Potato Soup will reach #1 in downloads.  Here is my actual recipe - in a pot cook some

onions and loads of garlic.  Add a large container or two (depending on hunger) of mashed potatoes.  Never never

mash your own potatoes. That's real cooking. Gently stir in a pint or two of beer. Add more beer if you can't finish

the one in your hand.  Cook on low heat until it tastes good. If serving to someone under 21 continue to cook until it

tastes like mashed potatoes with beer instead of  beer with mashed potatoes.  As an added bonus to making this fine

soup your kitchen will smell like a brewery saving you thousands of dollars a year on air sprays and kitty litter box

deodorizers.

12.   A new national holiday will join prestigious beer related ones like these already on the books - Jan 24 World

Bartender Day, March 20 National Bock Beer Day, April 11 King Gambrinus Day, May 7 National Homebrew Day,

Sept. 8 National Sour Beer Day, Sept. 27 National Crush A Beer Can Day  Oct 1 National Barrel Aged Day, Oct. 9

National Beer and a Pizza Day, Nov. 12 National Happy Hour Day and March 27 National Michael Jackson Day.  The

new holiday will simply be called Beer Day.  Its elegant simplicity will capture the imagination of a thirsty nation.  Like

Happy Hours that are anything but an hour this holiday will last for 12 months.

13.  Despite a cadre of retailers and distributors receiving harsh jail sentences for violating the new Fresh Beer Law

the Sell Old Stock Cartel's power over the industry remained unabated.  Because of the Cartels making offers they

could not refuse almost all breweries stopped dating their cans saying what people don't know can't hurt them.

Consumers in turn find little to no fresh beer on the shelves.  They promptly revolt as millions turn to home brewing.

That in turn forces them to decide between drinking stale, oxidized, cardboard flavored beer from commercial

breweries or their own fresh but terrible tasting brews.

14.   Several colleges offer PhD degrees in Responsible Beer Drinking.  Graduates are highly prized by major

industries since they have been trained to never spill, always use coasters, only use titanium bottle openers, never

chug, always use a glass, and never sneeze while drinking which can cause beer to squirt out of their nose.  Other

self-accredited organizations appear also offering certification in Imbibing. Those passing their rigorous curriculum

get the title of ThreeSheestserone.  To date only one person, Zane Lamprey, has pass the infamous Kobayashi

Brewaur final exam.

15.  An automatic convertible beer glass is invented that saves people the embarrassment of using the wrong glass

with their beer of choice.  It easily converts from shaker pint to tulip to thistle to chalice to Teku to Red Solo cup with a

push of a button. This modern marvel of technical ingenuity and creative genius runs on nineteen hundred AAA

batteries which are not included with the product.

16.   After some reflection I'm now fairly sure it wasn't Michael Jackson telling me these things.  It was just a  

hallucination caused by one too many glasses of Dogfish 120 with a side of their World Wide Stout.  As such I'm sorry

to say that none of these items will ever happen.  The whole darn list is wrong.  Wait, I take that back. One of these is

totally accurate - #16.

Cheers and Happy New Year!

Make Beer Your Holiday Gift

It’s the holiday season and that means gift giving to relatives, friends, and of course your favorite beer writer. Okay, I

get it. Make it your second favorite beer writer.  Now just what do all these people want? Let’s say it all together…

BEER.  It’s one thing to know what to get but it’s another to shop wisely for it.  And so in an effort to move up on that

gifting list here are a few tips from me to you on how to buy beer and what to do with it as you wait for the big day

when you play Santa.

Each of these flawless insights will be revealing and unfortunately humorless.  (Will the clown that said that’s just like

all my columns please stop reading now).  Where was I?  Ah, yes, make no mistake – uncovering insights is serious

business. Each of these gems have been born out of  eureka moments, intellectual prowess, a touch of alchemy and

intensive periods of investigative sleuthing. Well, I’d like to think that but the truth is I have been dopey long enough

to have committed the same mistakes so many times that a bit of learning was inevitable no matter how hard I

resisted.

1. When buying beer repeat constantly to yourself, no date, no buy, no date, no buy.  It also works as no buy, no

date and maybe even as no no buy date.  The lure of a fancy can from a brewery that is new to the store’s shelf is a

powerful thing.  Don’t be taken in by it.  Normally I would tell you how I fell for that exact ruse again just last week but

to maintain a minimum level of credibility I won’t. Instead here is an insight from the last time I was shopping for beer.

As I entered the huge liquor store I noticed an employee wheeling out a large cart filled with beer to be placed on the

shelf. This beer had to be fresh. Remembering my extensive top secret CIA surveillance training (not that CIA, the

other one -Culinary Institute of America) I began following him around the store.  I cleverly paused to look at bottles of

$400 Macallan 18 YR Sherry Oak Scotch and  $300 bottles of Elmer T. Lee Single Barrel Bourbon.  He never noticed

me despite my overdue for a washing BeerNexus t-shirt and well worn Yankee cap not quite fitting in with the other

shoppers in those sections.  He kept moving and finally stopped just past the display of items I was a bit more familiar

with - $5.99  quart bottles of Mr. Boston’s Wild Cherry (pretend) Brandy, bottles of $3.99 Arbor Mist (almost) Wine,

and a pyramid of special holiday packs consisting of 99 cans of PBR.  It may have been PBR but a 99 can pack is

nonetheless breathtaking.

It didn’t take long for him to place several cases of cans on the shelves.  He quickly moved on and I went to the beer.  

I didn’t care about brewery or style.  I just wanted something fresh. Really fresh and this had to be it.  It would mean I

had finally beaten the system.  I picked up a can (it was an IPA) and turned it upside down to revel in its freshness

date. It was 9 months old making it the stalest fresh beer I had ever seen.  Moral of the story – check dates and

never, never trust the retailer.

2.  Get your ABV (alcohol by volume) money’s worth.  That does not mean you should buy a beer for its ABV alone.

I’m shocked, shocked that anyone would do that. After all, just because I personally don’t know anyone dumb enough

to pay a stiff fee for non-alcoholic beer, soft cider, or pure prehistoric glacier water from the Sea of No Return doesn’t

mean they don’t exist. The reality is that it’s hard to make a full flavored beer that is memorable under 7 % ABV. All

the devotees of session beer have succumbed to false advertising and fake news.  I’m sorry to report that you can

drink all the Michelob Ultra or Miller Amazing Super Lite Yellow Water you like but you still won’t be able to run a

marathon, dance non-stop at posh clubs with near anorexic people, or swim the Black Lagoon without being caught

by the creature. Since that’s the case why not enjoy yourself?

ABV is important since it’s part of the reason for the existence of beer. Beer and its alcohol have a glorious history

reaching back  thousands of years, give or take a few hours.  Of course we’re talking about responsible, moderate

consumption (the editors would have put that in if I didn’t) of alcohol because in the right amounts it can have a

salutary effect on your physical and mental well being.  Frank Sinatra put it another way, “I feel sorry for people that

don't drink because when they wake up in the morning, that is the best they're going to feel all day.”

It’s easy to compute the ABV value per ounce.  Take the cost of a bottle and divide it by its size. That’s cost per

ounce. Then take the ABV and either multiple or divide it by that answer.  Somehow either process will work.   

Actually I’m not sure about any of this but the higher the number the better.  Maybe.  

3.  Buy from a good independent brewery unless they make bad beer or charge more than $20 a four pack. Of

course if you’re trying to impress someone with a holiday gift it’s okay to buy that four (or even a 2 pack) for $30 or

perhaps an ultra premium fool’s gold bottle for $100.  Yes, there are more of those than you might think. That’s beer

and fools.  If you do anything like that it is important you “forget” to remove the receipt when you give the gift.  Credit

needs to be given when due.

Look for the Independent seal on the label.  As global beer makers purchase formerly independent craft brewers,

knowing which breweries are independent is confusing. The certified independent craft seal let’s you know you’re

purchasing craft beer from people who are the essence of a movement that gave us the real deal.  Going with the

seal gives you the opportunity to finally stick it to The Man — those soulless and tasteless swill-peddlers — just by

drinking good beer. You’ll be putting a double woo-hoo whammy on those riding the Death Star trying to destroy

craft. That is not to be confused with Deth’s Tar beer from Revolution Brewing, one of the great ones.  How did

George Lucas miss that tie in?  Who wouldn’t want to drink a Deth’s Tar on the Death Star?  That’s aside all the good

guys of course.

If you’re not sure about which style of beer to give someone make your purchase based on the brewery.  Yes, some

craft breweries are simply better than others. “Craft” doesn’t insure quality.  There isn’t a home brewer who hasn’t

thought he could open a craft brewery and many have done just that.  Now just think of just how many great

homemade beers you’ve had that were truly outstanding.  Just a few.  In fact the last time someone gave me a

homebrew they said was outstanding, after one sip, I was out standing in the kitchen pouring it down the drain. So

when in doubt stick with a brewery you’ve had good beer from in the past and stay away from those that are hit/miss

or outright lousy. Of course that begs the question what breweries do I recommend. Usually those that send me free

samples.   

4.  Don’t worry if you bought that gift beer when it was cold , wrapped it with cheesy, though appropriately cheery,

holiday paper, and had to let it sit under your Christmas tree for a while. It will not explode. It will not turn to

undrinkable sludge.  It won’t go bad instantly or in the sophisticated parlance of the professional beer judge, it

won’t go "skunky". It is an old pervasive myth that cold beer, when warmed to room temperature will soon begin to

smell like Pepe Le Pew with a touch of hops.

Skunking is a reaction caused by light interacting with a chemical compound found in hops and has nothing to do with

temperature. However do not store the beer next to your crackling holiday fireplace unless it’s the one shown on TV

each Christmas.  Heat acts to speed up the process of oxidation which causes some beers to develop a stale,

cardboard-like flavor, accompanied by a note of sherry.  If you like sherry and are on a tight budget you might try it

but (this is just a wild guess) you’d probably be better off buying a cheap bottle of the stuff.

5.   It’s best to gift a beer the recipient has never tasted or heard of. The more obscure the brewery the better. Not

only does it add adventure and mystery to your gift you won’t be blamed if the beer is alarmingly putrid.  After all how

could you know such a rare bottle touted by the store manager in hushed tones was a loser?  On the other hand, if

it’s good you will be acclaimed a beer hunting genius. Actually, most beer drinkers tend to like a new beer the first

time they try it or at the very least withhold judgment.  It might take quite a while to decide on things like Närke Cask-

Conditioned Stormaktsporter from Iceland, Lord Thorndike Browne from England,  Ægir from Sweden, or Ye Olde

Colt 45 English 800 from the USA.

Obscure styles work too.  Try a Dampfbier, an old German style brewed with expressive Weizen yeast but with barley

malt instead of wheat.  It’s basically a Hefeweizen without the wheat or just a Nichtweizen.  Weizen up and give it a try

(sorry for that one, I won’t let that happen again).  Another good choice is a Sahti.  It’s a Finnish farmhouse ale

brewed with juniper instead of hops.  Hey, I never said this stuff was good, just obscure.  Then there’s the never

popular but rarely seen Gratzer, a Polish style ale brewed with oak-smoked wheat malt. Anyone lucky enough to get

a case of these Grodziskies for Christmas was surely on Santa’s list though it’s debatable if it was the good or bad

one.

In the unlikely event you can’t find any of those on your supermarket shelves then it’s okay to go with Koyt-kuit-kuyt

beer.  It has three aliases probably because it is a three-grain beer that until the late 19th century was the most

commonly consumed beer in the Netherlands. It was usually drunk out of wooden shoes.  If you’re giving this to a

special friend be sure to include them.  Just get the right size.

So there you have it 5 important considerations when giving beer as a gift.  There is however one vital caveat – they

only apply if your friend likes beer.  What should you do if he doesn’t?

Find a new friend.  I’m available.

It's Too Old

It’s the holiday season and that means gift giving to relatives, friends, and of course your favorite beer writer.  Okay, I

get it. Make it your second favorite beer writer.  Now just what do all these people want? Let’s say it all together…

BEER.  It’s one thing to know what to get but it’s another to shop wisely for it.  And so in an effort to move up on that

gifting list here are a few tips from me to you on how to buy beer and what to do with it as you wait for the big day of

Santa’s arrival.

Each of these flawless insights will be revealing and unfortunately humorless.  (Will the clown that said that’s just like

all my columns please stop reading now).  Where was I?  Ah, yes, make no mistake – uncovering insights is serious

business. Each of these gems have been born out of  eureka moments, intellectual prowess, a touch of alchemy,

and  intensive periosd of investigative sleuthing. Well, I’d like to think that but the truth is I have been dopey long

enough to have committed the same mistakes so many times that a bit of learning was inevitable no matter how hard I

tried to the contrary.

1. When buying beer repeat constantly to yourself, no date, no buy, no date, no buy.  It also works as no buy, no

date and maybe even as no no buy date.  The lure of a fancy can from a brewery that is new to the store’s shelf is a

powerful thing.  Don’t be taken in by it.  Normally I would tell you how I fell for that exact ruse yet again just last week

but to maintain a minimum level of credibility I won’t.  Instead here is an insight from the last time I was shopping for

beer.

As I entered the huge liquor store I noticed an employee wheeling out a large cart filled with beer to be placed on the

shelf.  This beer had to be fresh I thought. Remembering my extensive top secret CIA surveillance training (not that

CIA, the other one -Culinary Institute of America) I began following him around the store.  I cleverly paused to look at

bottles of $400 Macallan 18 YR Sherry Oak Scotch and  $300 bottles of Elmer T. Lee Single Barrel Bourbon.  He

never noticed me despite my overdue for a washing BeerNexus t-shirt and well worn Yankee cap not quite fitting in

with the other shoppers in those sections.  He kept moving and finally stopped just past the display of items I was a

bit more familiar with -  $5.99  quart bottles of Mr. Boston’s Wild Cherry (pretend) Brandy, bottles of $3.99 Arbor Mist

(almost) Wine, and a pyramid of special holiday packs consisting of 99 cans of PBR.  It may have been PBR but 99

cans is nonetheless breathtaking.

It didn’t take long for him to place several cases of cans on the shelves.  He quickly moved on and I went to the beer.  

I didn’t care about brewery or style.  I just wanted something fresh. Really fresh and this had to be it.  It would mean I

had finally beaten the system.  I picked up a can (it was an IPA) and turned it upside down to revel in its freshness

date.   It was 9 months old beer making it the freshest stale beer I had ever seen.   Moral of the story – check dates

and never, never trust the retailer.

2. Get your ABV (alcohol by volume) money’s worth.  That does not mean you should buy a beer for its ABV alone.

I’m shocked, shocked that anyone do that. After all, just because I personally don’t know anyone dumb enough to

pay a stiff fee for non-alcoholic beer, soft cider, or pure prehistoric glacier water from the Sea of No Return doesn’t

mean they don’t exist. The reality is that it’s hard to make a full flavored beer that is memorable under 7 % ABV. All

the devotees of session beer have succumbed to false advertising and fake news.  I’m sorry to report that you can

drink all the Michelob Ultra or Miller Amazing Super Lite Yellow Water and you still won’t be able to run a marathon,

dance non-stop at posh clubs with near anorexic people, or swim the Black Lagoon without being caught by the

creture. Since that’s the case why not enjoy yourself?

ABV is important since it’s part of the reason for the existence of beer. Beer and its alcohol has a glorious history

reaching back a thousands of years, give or take a few weeks.  Of course we’re talking about responsible, moderate

consumption (the editors would have put that in if I didn’t) of alcohol because in the right amounts it can have a

salutary effect on your physical and mental well being.  Frank Sinatra put it another way, “I feel sorry for people that

don't drink because when they wake up in the morning, that is the best they're going to feel all day.”

It’s easy to compute the ABV value per ounce.  Take the cost of a bottle and divide it by its size.  That’s cost per

ounce.  Then take the ABV and either multiple or divide it by that answer.   Somehow either process will work.   

Actually I’m not sure about any of this but the higher the number the better.  Maybe.  

3.  Buy from a good independent brewery unless they make bad beer or charge more than $20 a four pack. Of

course if you’re trying to impress someone with a holiday gift it’s okay to buy that four (or even a 2 pack) for $30 or

perhaps an ultra premium fool’s gold bottle for $100.  Yes, there are more of those than you might think. That’s beer

and fools.  If you do anything like that it is important you “forget” to remove the receipt when you give the gift.  Credit

needs to be given when due.

Look for the Independent seal on the label.  As global beer makers purchase formerly independent craft brewers,

knowing which breweries are independent is confusing. The certified independent craft seal let’s you know you’re

purchasing craft beer from people who are the essence of a movement that gave us the real deal.  Going with the

seal gives you the opportunity to finally stick it to The Man — those soulless and tasteless swill-peddlers — just by

drinking good beer. You’ll be putting a on double woo-hoo whammy on those riding the Death Star trying to destroy

craft.  That is not to be confused with Deth’s Tar beer from Revolution Brewing, one of the great ones.  How did

George Lucas miss that tie in?   Who wouldn’t want to drink a Deth’s Tar on the Death Star?  That’s aside all the

good guys of course.

If you’re not sure about style of beer to give someone make your purchase based on the brewery.  Yes, some craft

breweries are simply better than others.  “Craft” doesn’t insure quality.  There isn’t a home brewer who hasn’t thought

he could open a craft brewery and many have done just that.  Now just think of just how many great homemade beers

you’ve had that were truly outstanding.  Just a few.  In fact the last time someone gave me a homebrew they said was

outstanding, after one sip, I was out standing in the kitchen pouring it down the drain. So when in doubt stick with a

brewery you’ve had good beer from in the past and stay away from those that are hit/miss or outright lousy.  Of

course that begs the question what breweries do I recommend?  Usually those that send me free samples.   

4.        Don’t worry if you bought that gift beer when it was cold , wrapped it with cheesy, though appropriately cheery,

holiday paper, and had to let it sit under your Christmas tree for a while.  It will not explode.  It will not turn to

undrinkable sludge.  It won’t go bad or as in the sophisticated parlance of the professional beer judge, it won’t go

skunky.   It is an old pervasive myth that cold beer, when warmed to room temperature will soon begin to smell like

Pepe Le Pew with a touch of hops.

Skunking is a reaction caused by light interacting with a chemical compound found in hops and has nothing to do with

temperature.   However do not store the beer next to your crackling holiday fireplace unless it’s the one shown on TV

each Christmas.  Heat acts to speed up the process of oxidation which causes some beers to develop a stale,

cardboard-like flavor, accompanied by a note of sherry.  If you like sherry and are on a tight budget you might try it

but (this is just a wild guess) you’d probably be better off buying a chap bottle of the stuff.

5.        It’s best to gift a beer the recipient has never tasted or heard of. The more obscure the brewery the better.  

Not only does it add adventure and mystery to your gift you won’t be blamed if the beer is alarmingly putrid.  After all

how could you know such a rare bottle touted by the store manager in hushed tones was a loser?  On the other

hand, if it’s good you will be acclaimed a beer hunting genius. Actually, most beer drinkers tend to like a new beer the

first time they try it or at the very least withhold judgment.  It might take quite a while to decide on things like Närke

Cask-Conditioned Stormaktsporter from Icland, Lord Thorndike Browne from England,  Ægir from Sweden, or Ye

Olde Colt 45  English 800 from the USA.

Obscure styles work too.  Try a Dampfbier, an old German style brewed with expressive Weizen yeast but with all

barley malt instead of wheat.  It’s basically a Hefeweizen without the wheat or just a Nichtweizen.  Weizen up and give

it a try (sorry for that one, I won’t let that happen again).  Another good choice is a Sahti.  It’s a Finnish farmhouse ale

brewed with juniper instead of hops.  Hey, I never said this stuff was good, just obscure.  Then there’s the never

popular but rarely seen Gratzer, a Polish style ale brewed with oak-smoked wheat malt. Anyone lucky enough to get

a case of these Grodziskies for Christmas was surely on Santa’s list though it’s debatable if it was the good or bad

one.

In the unlikely event you can’t find any of those on your supermarket shelves then it’s okay to go with Koyt-kuit-kuyt

beer.  It has three aliases probably because it is a three-grain beer that until the late 19th century was the most

commonly consumed beer in the Netherlands. It was usually drunk out of wooden shoes.  If you’re giving this to a

special friend be sure to include them.  Just get the right size.

So there you have it 5 important considerations when giving beer as a gift.  There is however one vital caveat – they

only apply if your friend likes beer.  What should you do if he doesn’t?

Find a new friend.  I’m available.

Workout With Beer

Are you one of those who stepped on a scale recently and saw the real Covid 19 - as in 19 extra pounds?  Ekes!

For those of us who now have a "beer belly," I hope those genius scientists working on a vaccine are also developing

something to deal with that oh so apparent consequence of the virus.  While sheltering in place flattened the curve

it did the opposite to many a midsection.  Those six pack abs have turned into a keg.  It seems those days sitting at

home provided time for extended daily happy, really happy hours, which meant extra calories consumed courtesy of

all those extra beers.  That does not apply to those drinking no carb, no calorie, no taste, no flavor, no hops, no

nothing, triple super ultra light beer.  Never trust a skinny beer drinker because they’re probably not really drinking

actual beer as we know it.

Now before you start saying I’m anti-beer let me go on record as acknowledging that beer does not necessarily

cause “beer bellies”.   The culprit is too many calories.  Any kind of calories whether from alcohol, sugary beverages,

oversized portions of food, water, sleeping, breathing, or laughing at my articles (sometimes) can increase belly fat.

However, alcohol does seem to have a particular association with fat in the midsection.  In general, alcohol intake is

associated with bigger waists, because when you drink alcohol, the liver burns it instead of fat.  No one ever said the

liver was smart.

The most important question is not why but how can we avoid total embarrassment when people see us in the post

shutdown world.  As the country continues to open up we’ll soon be back in the judgmental eye of everyone with a

phone and twitter account just waiting to make our weight gain the next viral laughing stock.  The answer to this

problem is easy.  Lose some pounds.  Makes sense to me.  However doing that is a bit more involved.  The first rule

is don’t give up beer.  Rule 2 is to review Rule 1 until you know it by heart.  Rule three is to look in the mirror and

yell at yourself punctuated by firm slaps to your face if you forget Rule 1. The point is that you can exercise and then

hydrate yourself with beer. Really. In fact, if you are looking for the perfect recipe for drinking more beer exercise is

your answer.   

Finishing a workout with a refreshing beer has a long tradition among athletes.  More than a few marathons, bike

races, and ski events have beer tents in the finishing area though they stop short of actually putting them on the

course for reasons unknown.   After a run or just a brisk walk think how refreshing a beer would be.  And believe it or

not it’s actually good for you.

Beer companies have been marketing specifically to fitness folks for quite a while.  Think about those Michelob

Ultra commercials or the promotions for Harpoon Brewery’s Rec League Pale Ale, or Avery Brewing’s Go Play IPA

touting beer as the perfect post workout and healthy lifestyle drink.  Yes, it’s a stretch to call Michelob Ultra beer but

the point they’re making is valid with craft beer too.

Before you say that’s just the beer in me talking there are many surveys that prove avid exercisers tend to drink more

alcohol than their sedentary counterparts.  In fact, one big survey found that  drinking beer is associated with a 10%

increase in the probability of exercising vigorously.  Although InBev paid for, created, and conducted that survey

there’s no reason to doubt the findings.  Besides, I found it on the Internet so it must be true.

Semi-reliable science has also been researching the positive aspects of a post-exercise beer. The big caveat in

understanding these studies is that getting hammered won’t help your recovery after a strenuous workout.  It also

won’t help you think wisely, sing on key, be witty (well maybe half of that), get on Jeopardy, or dance better (I don’t

buy that one since it always seems to work for me).  All agree however that it’s a different story if instead of getting

blitzed you just throw back a brew or three.  

Admittedly beer won’t hydrate you better than water, but it’s not worse either since it’s mainly water.  So if water is

good it’s just as good as itself when it’s in beer. Besides, alcohol is always a good thing whether you use it as a

beverage or for killing Covid 19 germs.  

For those of you who believe alcohol is a diuretic let me set you straight. A randomized trial by researchers at

Loughborough University (it took quite a while to find a study from anywhere to support this theory) looked into the

diuretic and hydration effects of small doses of alcohol and found that when people were dehydrated, alcohol’s

diuretic effect was blunted as their bodies worked to restore their fluid balance.  The only thing they forget to mention

is that the best way to have perfect fluid balance is to have beer in each hand. That was confirmed by a study

conducted at Wossamotta U.

The researchers had 16 male volunteers do a vigorous run in a hot laboratory. I have no idea why anyone would

want to do that but they did. Afterward, the participants were offered either mineral water or beer.  Those choosing

the water were asked to leave the study for, well, being just plain dumb.  The beer, after all, was free. The runners

eventually did the protocol once under each condition, three weeks apart. The final results showed that moderate

beer intake had “no deleterious effects” on hydration.  Take that you teetotaling health nuts.

The beer used in the research was Carling which inexplicitly has been Britain’s best selling lager for more than three

decades.  Frankly, it’s not a very good beer, despite what Mabel says.  BeerAdvocate gives Carling an

embarrassingly generous rating of 62/100 which is a lot higher than what I give it.  I guess the researchers don’t read

BeerNexus or simply like cute green bottles.  Interestingly a couple of years ago Carling was called on the carpet for

advertising their lager had a 4% ABV although it has brewed at 3.7% for nearly two decades.  Why the concern over

a lousy three tenth of a percent?  The lower ABV meant a lower tax rate.  If they taxed on taste Carling would be

owed loads of money by the government.

To be fair I did find a couple of studies that suggested beer, because of its alcohol, whether consumed with protein or

carbs, reduced the muscle-building response to exercise and might, therefore, impair recovery from training. But

here’s the part they don’t want you to know: the subjects in these studies drank a lot of beer — about seven pints.  

From what I understand they had many more volunteers than were needed.

Now that science has proven you can exercise and still drink beer before, during, after and in between workouts –

yes, it’s not just for breakfast anymore - the question is which workout program is best.  I found it - Team Body

Project.  To say it's all yoga is a bit of a stretch, there is a lot of cardio which will help you in the long run,  they also

have a lot of resistance exercises which will lift your spirits…. ah, I think that’s enough, more than enough.  Ok, you

talked me into it, one more.  I tried working out by lifting dictionaries since I thought that's how you get definition.  

Right, that was one; make that four, too many

Team Body project is just about the perfect place for any beer drinker who wants to lose weight. The trainers

constantly drink.  Of course they say there’s water in those bottles but even if it's true, that doesn’t mean you can’t

put something in yours that has equal scientific credibility.  Some of their workouts involve weights but as head trainer

Daniel Bartlett often says in his authentic English accent, “if you don’t have weights use a tin of beans.”  A tin of

beans according to international weight equivalences is nearly the same as a can of beer.  So forget the weights and

beans and just use beer which makes for great efficiency when it comes time to enjoy a post workout refresher..

One of the great things about Team Body Project is that there are programs, plans, and over 400 individual exercise

videos ranging from easy to medium to Chuck Norris level.  If you reach that height you, like Chuck, can have a

calendar that goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd, because no one fools someone in such great shape and

you’ll be so strong that at the next zombie apocalypse the zombies will try to survive you.

I admit to starting at the easy level where you exercise while sitting down.  Yes, you workout while literally being

seated the entire time.  It’s very creative, fun and effective.  Once time I got so tired I had to stand up to get a rest.  

After completing the program I never looked at a chair the same way again.

The creators of Team Body Project, Alex and Daniel Bartlett, as far as I know, are not nor have ever been brewers,

professional or amateur.  I don’t hold that against them, at least not that much.  After all, without them I wouldn’t have

been motivated to find a scientifically proven reason to rehydrate with my favorite morning beverage.

And I don't mean coffee.

There's No Place Like Home

Just call me the slickster from now on.  On second thought my super slick slickness should earn me the title of Sir

Slickster. I just crushed a most savvy fermented beverage aficionado and cross state beer smuggler in a staggering

display of dipsy-doo now you see it, now you don’t beer trade.  It started with a soliciting email detailing the beers this

long time buddy who just returned from a Boston area vacation had available for exchange.  All were from Trillium

and Treehouse.  Yes we’re talking that Trillium with a 4.47 / 5 rating on BeerAdvocate and that Treehouse with a

4.49 rating.  It doesn’t get much better than those scores.  Of course we’re not counting my last home brew which got

a 5.95 / 5 rating (by me).