Even after the War of Independence, Americans continued to make ales
exclusively until 1842, when the famous beer of Pilsn, Bohemia (known in the
United States as a Pilsner) was introduced to the world. Unlike the dark, heavy
ales of the time, this new beer — a lager style — was crisp and golden. More
importantly, it was transparent. And with drinking glasses just coming into
fashion, the clear-beer fad spread. (See Gerald McLeod’s feature for a more
detailed history of the Pilsner.)
Soon the Pilsner supplanted the ale as the everyday beer in America (as well
as in almost every other country around the globe). By the 1960s, the American
version, a bland and watery mutation of the original, accounted for over %90 of
beer sales in the United States. But while Anheuser-Busch and Miller cornered
the market with their lifeless lagers, some beer drinkers were searching for
alternatives.
Save the Ales
With the gradual repeal of state temperance laws from the Prohibition Era,home brewing became a legal way to circumvent the Pilsner monopoly. The brewing
process essentially involves extracting sugars from a treated grain, usually
barley malt, with hot water; seasoning the resulting solution, or the wort,
with hops; and then adding yeast to the wort to convert the grain’s sugars into
alcohol and carbon dioxide — a process known as fermentation. There are two
fundamental types of yeast used to achieve this final step, and the choice
between them determines whether the product will be an ale-type or a lager-type
beer.
Ale yeasts, which are also used to make other beer styles such as wheat beers,
float to the top of the wort and ferment there, while lager yeasts sink to the
bottom to do their business. Lagers, or “bottom-fermented” beers, e.g.,
Pilsners, bocks, and Oktoberfests, require refrigeration during fermentation as
well as ice-cold storage, which helps explain why most early American
homebrewers opted to make “top-fermented” ales, whose warmer fermentation and
maturation make them more convenient and less costly to produce at home.
Gambling that their countrymen would pay for quality, top-fermented
alernatives to the insipid domestic Pilsners, a few farsighted homebrewers
scaled up production. Thus began the microbrewery movement that has burgeoned
in the United States over the last 10 years and is presently filling Austin
bars like The Gingerman, The Draught Horse, Dog & Duck, Lovejoy’s, and
Crown & Anchor with a new generation of ales and ale lovers.
If there is one drawback to this bounty, however, it’s the speed at which it’s
reached fruition. With new beers arriving in town weekly, supply seems to be
baffling demand, particularly for those just beginning to explore life beyond
Budweiser. Fortunately, however, there is a method to this newfound madness. So
grab a bowl of pretzels and pull up a pint glass, as we survey the suds of
River City.
American Pale Ale
The darling of the American micro movement is known as a “pale ale,” a beerstyle that originated in England but has been redefined in the United States
due largely to differences in hops. “Hops” in beer talk refers to the sticky,
resinous buds of the hop plant that are added to a beer for seasoning. Ales
derive much of their personality from the two basic types of hops used in
brewing: flavoring hops, which effect a pleasant bitterness and dryness to
counter the sweetness of the malt; and finishing hops, which account for much
of the beer’s aroma.
The American pale ale (APA) is a sweetish, fruity, amber-red beer, typically
with a big bouquet of flowery finishing hops. The style is epitomized by Sierra
Nevada Pale Ale, a full-bodied brew that balances a bittersweet palate with a
piney, floral finish; Boulder Pale Ale, a recent Austin arrival, has a similar
flowery nose but is drier and lighter-bodied than the Sierra Nevada; Anchor’s
splendid, perfumy Liberty Ale has an uncharacteristic straw color and an
uncanny drinkability; and despite its misleading moniker, the top-fermented
Celis Pale Bock’s bitter, fruity palate is clearly akin to an American pale
ale.
A stronger, hoppier version of pale ale evolved from the special style that
England shipped to India during the days of the British Empire, known
appropriately enough as an India Pale Ale, or IPA. Today, the term has lost its
meaning in England but is being revised here at home. Waterloo Brewing
Company’s Guytown IPA is a typical example and the Oregon Brewery’s IPA has
recently made its debut at the Gingerman, the Draught Horse, and Trudy’s Lone
Star.
Many small American breweries are also producing variations on the pale ale
theme under labels such as “extra pale,” “amber,” “red,” etc. These names —
the results of marketing — may reflect the use of a different type of malt or
yeast, or they may just mask an inferior ale. In any case, the beers to which
they refer are not usually far removed from an APA.
Bitter Ale
In England, a bitter (no `s’) was originally the draft version of the bottledpale ale, but a more definite distinction has evolved. Today’s bitter is a
bronze-to-copper brew that derives its name from a strong presence of flavoring
(bitter) hops. The bouquet is often fruity but not perfumy as in many pale
ales, and a crisp, dry palate makes this style a nice alternative for those not
enamored with the sweetness of the APAs.
English pubs often serve several versions of bitter, distinguished by epithets
such as “best bitter” and “extra special bitter,” or ESB. These beers generally
ascend in alcoholic strength from the regular bitter on up through the special,
but there are no rules; one pub’s ESB is another’s best. Compare the import,
Fuller’s ESB, with the domestic Redhook ESB (both available on tap at Dog &
Duck, the Gingerman, the Draught Horse, and Lovejoy’s). The former is
fruity, malty and copper-colored, with a scintillating bitterness, while the
latter is lighter in color and body, considerably drier, and even more
pleasantly bitter than the Fuller’s. Balcones Pale Malt (“pale malt” is the
type of malt used to make a bitter; the term does not refer to a beer style) is
fuller-bodied and maltier than a typical bitter, but the stringent hoppiness of
Balcones’ best effort lands it somewhere near this class.
Brown Ale Brown ale, exemplified by the famous edition made by the Newcastle brewery in
northeastern England, was originally created there to compete with the pale
ales to the south. These deep-amber ales are much less hoppy than both American
and English pales, their most noticeable characteristic being a smooth, nutty
palate (hence the occasional use of the word “nut” before the style’s name).
St. Arnold’s brewery of Houston makes an outstanding edition, with a richness
belied by its light-brown color and a delicious cocoa aftertaste. This
chocolatey flavor is even more evident in the dark, scrumptious Nut Brown
Nectar produced by the Rogue brewing company of Oregon. Pete’s Wicked Ale, on
the other hand, is a new-wave American brown, with a deep copper tinge and a
sweet palate matched by a hint of berry in the nose. All three are available on
draft at the Gingerman.
Barley Wine
Barley wine, another distinctive British ale adopted by Americanbreweries, is so-named because of its high alcohol content and heavy, sweet
flavor, both of which can approach those of a sweet red wine. It is almost
always bottled, but Old Foghorn, an exceptional domestic version made by the
Anchor brewery of San Francisco, is available on draft at the Gingerman and the
Draught Horse. In summertime, this style works best as a dessert beer.
Porters and Stouts
These are the famous dark, bittersweet ales of London and Dublin made with(barley) malt that has been roasted until black. They are better suited for
cool weather (and material enough for an entire article within themselves), but
a dry Irish stout like Guiness or Murphy’s always complements a plate of
oysters. The Copper Tank brews a stout that’s lighter bodied than the imports,
with a nice coffee flavor in its bite. Boulder and Anchor each make outstanding
porters.
Wheat Beers: Austin’s Place in the Revolution Although it’s been said that America’s beer revolution is merely an English
ale renaissance, the craft breweries are beginning to turn their attention to
another class of beers particularly well suited for hot climates like Austin.
These are the wheat beers — top-fermented (ale-type) brews in which 30-60% of
the barley malt has been substituted with wheat malt.
Although the most famous purveyors of this genre are the Bavarians, credit for
introducing local patrons to the acidic twang of wheat beer goes to the Celis
Brewery and its classic Celis White. The Belgians are famous for
seasoning their beers with adjuncts in addition to hops, and Pierre Celis’s
witbier, as the Belgian rendition is known, is no exception. Smacking of
coriander and orange rind, this spicy brew has converted many Austinites to the
style, particularly as a tonic against the Texas heat.
Traditionally served with a slice of lemon, Bavarian wheat beers, or weizen
beers, are also superb thirst-quenchers. They’re marked by a tart, fruity
palate and — especially in the darker versions, or dunkelweizen — a
satisfying spiciness reminiscent of apple cider. Like Celis White, weizen beers
are commonly bottle-conditioned, which means that additional yeast is added in
the bottle to promote a secondary fermentation. In this case they are known as
hefeweizen (“hefe” means yeast) — cloudy, effervescent
beers with an addictive tanginess imparted by the added yeast, which settles to
the bottom of the bottle and is delicious poured over the beer’s head.
Joining Celis in the local wheat beer market this week is Shiner, which has
just debuted a honey hefeweizen that should become a standard in the
capital if it can approach the level maintained by the German brands of
Franziskaner, Hacker-Schorr, and Julius Echter. All of these breweries make
excellent hefeweizen beers, available bottled in gourmet shops or on tap
(except for the Julius Echter) at the Gingerman and the Draught Horse. Red Hook
also makes a good bottled hefeweizen, and Waterloo Brewing Co. brews a
wonderful draft version, which is occasionally available mixed with its
raspberry beer to make a delicious cooler.
For those who don’t care for the yeasty sediment of a hefeweizen, a
kristalweizen may be worth a sip. This is a weizen beer from which all
the yeast has been filtered, leaving behind a clear (“kristal“) wheat
brew. St. Arnold’s bottles a kristalweizen, and it’s available on draft
at Dog & Duck.
The filtered Pete’s Wicked Summer Brew is also made with wheat malt, but the
percentage relative to the barley seems to be lower than in the weizen beers.
It is less acidic, though deliciously seasoned with a touch of lemon, and very
refreshing. I recently sampled a similar type of wheat beer in California made
by Rhino Chaser, accented with peach instead of citrus. Together, these beers
may may forecast a new American interpretation of the wheat style.
Where is Beer Headed?
In addition to the Bavarian wheat beers, right now the craze in the brewpubsof Portland — the vanguard of the American beer scene — is a dark, spicy ale
made from rye malt. The Gingerman has been serving Redhook’s rye for about a
month, and Waterloo Brewing Company is on top of the scene with its own
fresh-brewed edition.
The most exciting phase of the micro movement may be yet to come, however, as
presaged by the recent release of Sam Adams’ Golden Pilsner. Although the lager
does not match the delicacy and flavor of a genuine Czech version, it is
certainly superior to Budweiser and its clones, and other craft brewers are
likely to follow suit. Here in town, the Bitter End recently served a Pils for
a couple of weeks, and Austin’s new Live Oak Brewing Company is set to
introduce a Pilsner in October. If the small brewing companies begin to
encroach on Anheuser-Busch and Miller’s turf by reinventing the American
Pilsner, then expect the sparks in the beer revolution to really begin to fly.
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This article appears in July 19 • 1996 and July 19 • 1996 (Cover).