Great Lakes Turns 25

1988 was a good year for craft beer in America.  Phil Eckhardt’s The Essentials of Beer Style was published, one of the first tomes to document what have since become the recognized styles of beer across the world.  A number of the elder statesmen of craft beer were founded (though at the time, the term microbrewery had not yet fallen out of vogue), including three from the West Coast –  Oregon’s Deschutes & Rogue, & California’s North Coast - & two from the Midwest – Chicago’s Goose Island & Cleveland’s Great Lakes.  It’s encouraging to see these mainstays still going strong, & I bet some of them never expected to be where they are now – especially Goose Island.  In the spirit of commemoration, Deschutes has spearheaded a series of collaborations dubbed Class of ’88, teaming up with different combos from this group & releasing some pretty interesting brews. 

We’re proud to say that one of the alum from this class is right in our backyard.  Great Lakes has been a stalwart in the area, with a relatively limited distribution up until the last few years.  They’ve focused on putting out solid, quality brews & knocking out a really great regular line-up – their Dortmunder Gold & Edmund Fitzgerald Porter remain on a lot of drinker’s short lists.  I admire the fact that they tend to keep their repertoire pretty tight, without overwhelming the market with new brew upon new brew.  What they do let out of the gates is great – check out their latest, Rye of the Tiger & Alchemy Hour for evidence of this.  Their seasonals are consistently favorites, among them Nosferatu, Oktoberfest, Christmas Ale, & Blackout Stout.  And their Barrel-Aged Blackout Stout is a consistent draw for the most diehard & beer-geeky among us, who flock to the brewery each year when it drops. 

On top of creating a great product, Great Lakes is committed to sustainability in what they refer to as their Triple Bottom Line, espousing sustainable economic, social, & environmental practices.  They engage in bioregionalism as much as possible, their building site is a historical preservation, & they make a point of being a good community citizen.  For more on this philosophy, visit www.greatlakesbrewing.com or check out Christopher Mark O’Brien’s book Fermenting Revolution, which talks extensively about the good Great Lakes is doing.

If this sounds like a love letter to Great Lakes, sue us!  We’re happy to be celebrating their Silver Anniversary at The House from May 29^th to June 1^st.  Join us as we welcome the regional Great Lakes rep, Connie, who’ll be meeting, greeting, & pouring on Wednesday, the 29^th, when we’ll be tapping the brewpub-only Ohio City Oatmeal Stout & giving away Great Lakes glasses; Thursday, we’ll be tapping another limited release: Rally Drum Red; Friday, we summon the Lake Erie Monster Double IPA; & on Saturday, in addition to Commodore Perry IPA & Dortmunder Gold, we’ll dig into their collaboration with Deschutes, an Imperial Smoked Porter in celebration of the Class of ’88.  And what would a party be without giveaways each day?  So come join The House in honoring Great Lakes Brewing Company, one of craft beer’s best.

Butting Heads Over Budding Hops

There’s been a lot of hubbub around an opinion article that appeared last Thursday on slate.com.  The author was making the case that hoppy beers are the biggest obstacle to craft beer’s mainstream acceptance, as many beer-drinkers equate craft beer with tasting like pine needles/grapefruit pith/cat urine – not necessarily a great taste for many.  On-line forums lit up & our own Facebook wall was active with folks weighing in on their love of or hate for hops, & whether they thought American craft brewers are overdoing it when it comes to adding those flavorful little green cones to their beers.  Some of craft beer’s most outspoken personalities have critiqued hyper-hopped brews: Garrett Oliver’s made the analogy that “No chef brags about having the saltiest soup” & Jim Koch’s asserted that “There’s not a huge set of skills to make an 80-IBU beer”.  Fightin’ words indeed, especially considering that they come from the mouths of quintessentially East Coast brewers.

On our own little Facebook “forum”, it was great seeing people get passionate & voice their opinions about a polarizing topic.  Opinions trended toward either “What is it with American brewers & their stupid hops?” or “If you don’t like hops, there’s plenty of others to pick from”.  We’ll spend a second & just validate the latter point – it’s a big, happy umbrella with craft beer, & if choice A doesn’t suit you, try choice B, C, or R.  We serve many well-seasoned craft drinkers, many among them who are just not into IPAs, or sours, or Belgians, or lagers, or whatever. 

But reading this article brought two personal anecdotes to mind around the issue of appealing to consumers.    In the first, I was drinking with a few friends who like good beer & the conversation gravitated to that topic.  We shared our appraisals & praise of the Belgian-inspired strong ales we were drinking, when a buddy remarked, “Man, I can’t wait ‘til breweries get over this overly hoppy trend.”  I might be paraphrasing, but you get the gist.  I get it – I disagree, but I get it.  It’s no secret that prominent hop profiles are probably the biggest “love-it-or-hate-it” dimension of the new brewing paradigm, & are a hurdle a lot of folks can’t (& don’t necessarily want to) clear.  My response, however, was that hopped-up beers are not going anywhere any time soon – roughly 99.9% of American breweries make at least an IPA. 

And I got a little defensive from a patriotic/historical standpoint.  Hops – American hops – are what have distinguished American craft beer from practically the get-go.  Sierra Nevada’s Pale Ale (& its predecessor, New Albion Ale), considered tame by today’s standards, was revolutionary in its inception for its bold use of Cascade hops & paved the way for pretty much every hoppy American ale that came after it.  American brewers had less going for them in the way of domestic malt, but found a cornucopia of flavors in American hops & came to sire a whole family of beer that was uniquely American.  This has been the main aspect of American beer that’s caused European brewers to break with tradition & actually try to emulate (as opposed to just mock, as was previously the case).  The word “American” in any style title – IPA, stout, porter, barleywine, brown -  basically denotes a greater hop presence than its European counterparts.  American, American, American.  So part of me says that you don’t have to like hoppy beers, but at least respect them & their role in this country’s beer renaissance.

However, another part of me remembers a little happening with one of my best friends a few years ago.  It was the rehearsal dinner for my wedding, & I’d picked a place that knew & served quality beer.  When the server asked for drink orders, my buddy ordered a Yuengling.  “I’m sorry, we don’t have that here” was the server’s reply, “but I think you’ll like our pale ale.”  I tried to call the server back & tell him to get their light lager, but was too late – he was on a mission to “upsell” & “convert” my neophyte friend to the good stuff.  When he returned with the hoppy pale, my friend took a tiny sip, set the beer down, & stuck to water for the rest of the evening.  With the best of intentions, that server tried to show my friend the light & failed.  Just an endorsement for mutual respect.  We promote the respect for beer in its myriad flavors, styles, personalities, & support challenging ourselves.  But we also realize that failing to respect someone else’s taste & evangelize where it isn’t wanted doesn’t help anybody.

Give the Shaker a Break

It’s solid.  It’s utilitarian.  It’s iconic.  It’s fair to say that the shaker pint – commonly just the “pint glass”, the tapered, angular glass that resemble an upside-down thimble – is the most-used beer-serving vessel in the U.S.  But more & more aficionados – from stalwart brewmasters Vinnie Cilurzo & Garrett Oliver (Russian River & Brooklyn, respectively), to UC Davis brewing professor Dr. Michael Lewis, to renowned beer writer Andy Crouch – are calling for the disposing of this glass from its place as industry standard.  A common talking point among the brew literati is “the proper glassware”, making the demand that, if beer is going to secure a place of esteem equal to wine, it needs to be served in glassware to optimize its head retention, its aroma, its clarity, its serving temperature.  We also think that beer deserves to be put on a pedestal, & you’ll find an array of glassware at The House: tulips, for those heady Belgian ales; snifters, for those potent barleywines & strong ales; flutes, for those fruity sweetened lambics; vases, pilsners, nonick pints, goblets.  And we happen to hold the shaker pint in the same regard.

One argument in defense of the shaker is from the “anti-snob” position, basically “It’s beer.  Don’t be so patrician, just get over yourself & enjoy it.”  There’s some validity to that.  A good article from Charlotte Beer makes the point eloquently, saying that, yes, beer deserves to be experienced at its utmost, but there’s a time & a place, & if you’re too bent out of shape about the kind of glass that you fail to appreciate the beer, whose fault is that, really?  If your head is so far jammed in the glass that you don’t notice your company & surroundings, you’re missing out on at least 50% of the experience anyway.  And sure, a pint glass is certainly preferable to a plastic cup (I’ve drank at places that claim to be self-respecting where this was the delivery method of choice – ooooh boy). 

But I’d even go so far as to claim that the shaker pint is actually the best vessel for certain styles.  Doesn’t a good stout just look more appealing served in a tall, assertive glass?  Don’t the round body & straight sides feel good in your hand?  There’s something about picking up & putting down that sturdy pint of beer that just feels like it fits, that defines it as a hearty, robust beverage & separates it from the dainty “refinement” of wine.  The owner & brewmaster of Beachwood BBQ state that the shaker pint is their preferred glassware for IPAs & Double IPAs, & I agree.  Something about aggressively hoppy beers really shines from a shaker, the head holds up very well to deliver that aroma, & the thick, sticky lacing working its way down the sides is the icing on the cake.  It’s a beer that says “Here I am,” & the glass props that up.  It works great for many styles: browns, pales, ambers, stouts, bocks, most lagers, IPAs – a lot of the “work horse” styles.  This is not to knock any other sort of glassware; they’re all great & deserve to be recognized.  But the shaker pint fits easily alongside the curvy, aerodynamic styles.  Maybe we do need to just get over ourselves & enjoy the beer.  But maybe the shaker pint is just right for the time, the place, & even the brew itself.