Presumably, it had very little to do with what I feel like ranting about right now, but first... some perspective.
America has a fairly illustrious beer history. At least it's managed to pack a lot of history into it's short life span. The trick to packing that much history into that little time, is to start as early as possible.
Which we did. Excluding the fermented beverages which were already drank here by the Native Americans, the earliest occurrences of brewing were as early as 1587, in Roanoke, Virginia. No accounts record their brewing as good, but they were brewing nonetheless. Dutch colonists, in New Amsterdam (or Old New York), were brewing in 1612.
In 1620, the Pilgrims earned their place in history. Most Americans know the story of how they landed on Plymouth Rock, and then proceeded to be such incompetent settlers that they invented Thanksgiving as an excuse to ask the natives how to survive off the land.
What most Americans don't know, is that the reason they landed on Plymouth Rock without the right equipment to survive the New England climate, is that they weren't supposed to land there. They intended to go to Virginia, where there were already some colonies. Unfortunately, their ship started running low on beer, and when forced to make a choice between sharing with the religious fanatics or having beer for themselves, the sailors dumped their passengers and cargo as quickly as possible instead of finishing the trip.
One would hope the Puritans understood, as they actively promoted brewing themselves. They viewed beer as an aid to temperance, a less evil distraction from one of my other favorite beverages: Whisky.
If we jump forward a century and a half, we're getting to the part in history when these new colonies were getting rowdy, and a little unhappy with their British overseers. In 1770, George Washington and Patrick Henry called for a boycott of imported British beer, to try and promote the domestic brewing industry. Their boycott never got as much attention as the Bostonian Tea drinkers, who were apparently a lot angrier about their beverage than a bunch of beer guzzlers.
By 1810, Jefferson was trying to talk President James Madison into creating a Government Agency specifically to promote national brewing. CBA and FBB are both possible acronyms we might be dealing with now, if the war of 1812 hadn't seemed a little more important to them at the time. Of course, either of those seems more appealing than the BATF we have instead.
In fact, Washington, Jefferson and Madison were all brewers. One day, when I'm feeling less lazy than usual, I might even haul myself over to the New York Public Library to check out Washington's Porter recipe that they have on display there. Of all the famous patriotic names, one who actually wasn't a brewer was Sam Adams. He was a "maltster". He would soak and dry barley to turn it into malt. He wasn't very good at it either. He inherited his malt house from his father, and drove it straight into the ground. It's not too surprising, actually. Apparently he didn't drink.
It wasn't until the early 1840s that 2 vital things happened. The more globally relevant event was the invention of the Pilsener, which coincidentally took place in a town called Plzen, that would become the most popular beer style in the world. At the same time, in America, some of the more well-known breweries that are still around today were starting to form. There are some relatively complicated stories surrounding the founding of Miller and Schlitz from that period. At least, they're too complicated for me to relate before I finish this paragraph.
By 1850 there were only a little over 400 breweries in the country. It took a good long decade for that number to triple to over 1200 breweries. It took another ten years for that number to repeat the act and leave us with a historic high of 4,131 breweries by 1873.
The next 45 years saw the beginning of the US brewing industry's death. Breweries started to become national as transportation became easier. Silly laws prohibiting brewing and bottling on the same premises killed many of the smaller breweries who couldn't afford the bottling equipment needed to become a national brand. This helped knock the number of breweries back down to a little over 1500. This was also the time period when the Prohibitionist movement was starting. They used WWI, and the resources it required, as an excuse to pass laws prohibiting the use of foodstuffs in the manufacture of alcohol. Following the war were the worst 13 years in our brewing history.
1920 to 1933 were difficult years, to say the least. They successfully killed off all but the most major of breweries, who survived by working in almost-related industries. They sold malt, officially for cooking. They sold beer-type beverages, but without the alcohol. And some continued to sell beer, albeit illegally, to speak-easies and other new American 'institutions'.
After prohibition, just as America was starting to learn to drink beer again, another World War entered the picture. This allowed the larger breweries to grow larger and more famous through government beer contracts supplying the troops. It also led to the popularity of really, really, really, light beers. The larger part of the American consumer market was suddenly the women still at home, and they tended to want beer that was especially easy to drink. Once every single brewery had become adept at brewing this style, there was no turning back. We've been drinking it ever since.
From 1946 to 1976, the largest breweries went on buying sprees. The last small breweries merged, got bought by larger breweries, and then got sold as pieces again. The number of transactions was phenomenal. It was quite a mess. The largest sale, at least in its effect on the brewing industry, was that of the Miller Brewing company to Phillip Morris. That sale, and the money they were able to start pouring into advertising, is what allowed Miller to rise from obscurity into the number 2 beer sales position, right behind Anheuser-Busch, which is pretty much how that whole segment of the market has stabilized over the last 15 years.
If you're still with me, I'm getting really close to the point of this whole column. In case you don't remember, I want to complain.
The plot twist that caught all the large beer companies by surprise was the rise of the micro brewery. Although not historically first, the purchase of the Anchor Steam brewing company by Fritz Maytag in 1977, started the new market segment. The most vocal boost occurred in 1985 when Sam Adams appeared on the market. Since then, micro brews have exploded in popularity, and the large companies have been forced to notice, even going so far as to try and make their own micro brews, such as The Plank Road Brewery, so they could control that part of the market as well. Luckily, they've been less than successful thus far. It was these plot twists that lead directly to my attendance on September 14 at the Brooklyn Beerfest.
This is the part where I rant.
I went to the beerfest expecting to try lots of beers from all around the country from lots of micro brewers I don't usually try. In this, I was not disappointed. I expected to see a variety of different styles, types of beer different from the Bavarian Hefeweizens I usually drink. In this I was not disappointed. I expected to really enjoy tasting the spoils of all these different micro brews, to enjoy the ones successful enough to get national attention, presumably based on their amazing flavors and superior craftsmanship. In this, I was sorely disappointed.
What I learned at this beerfest was that if a micro is going to be successful enough to be national, and have their beers sold throughout the country, then they need to use a lot of extra water in their brews. They need to make sure that any flavors which might actually distinguish their version of a style from every other version of it is taken out.
When I drink a beer, I want it to have something special, something that jumps out at me when I try it, kicks me in the palate, and lets me know why I should be enjoying this beer. Almost none of the micro brews represented there had that. I had IPAs that may as well have been called RPAs, for Really Pale Ales, I had hefeweizens that not only forgot what the hefe part of the word is, but also seemed to have forgotten what the weizen part stands for. If I want to drink watered down, weakly flavored beer, I don't need to go to a micro brewer to find it, the frat parties from my college days had more than enough.
I'm not implying they were all bad. There were at least 2 good American breweries there. Besides my natural bias in their favor for being local, I actually like some of the beers from the Brooklyn Brewery. I forgot about it when writing last month's column, but I've had their Hefeweizen, and it wasn't bad. I've enjoyed their IPA as well. But I still preferred most of the German beers present to theirs. Jon really liked some of the Rogue beers, and still orders their Hazelnut Nectar at Peculier.
Despite these glimmers of hope, we have a long way still to go. My favorite beer at the show was also the weirdest beer I have ever had. It was a Belgian beer called Rodenbach. Despite being brewed with only traditional beer ingredients, i.e., only barley malt, it tasted like someone had shoved a bushel of cherries into the bottle. The first sip immediately made my face do its best impression of a grape becoming a raisin. I thought I would never taste it again. But about half a minute later, with the aftertaste still working it's magic in my mouth, I couldn't wait to have more.
We had our obligatory tasting of all the beers there. We think there were over a hundred, but lost count when the numbers starting getting too large, so we make no guarantees for anything over 3. Finally we ended up at the Hacker-Pschorr/Paulaner table; Jon with his Paulaner Hefeweizens, and me drinking the Hacker-Pschorr Oktoberfest, a very nice beer, with a lot of malt flavors.
Not being quite old enough, it's difficult to know how much American beer has changed since the days of Jefferson pitching his National Endowment for the Malts. I hope we're doing better, even with the half century of back peddling we endured. So in order to expedite my personal pursuit of happiness, I think it's the responsibility of all brewers out there to focus on making beer that I like. If it doesn't sell? Not my problem. I'm way too poor to support myself, never mind all of them.
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As usual, if I'm blatantly, or even subtly wrong, feel free to drop me a line and let me know what an idiot I am.
-- phillip karlsson, brew guru
october 06, 1997
