You're reading this article, so you're probably a Hopkins student, parent or brave professor. Statistically, this means you are probably a beer drinker. Furthermore, you are probably really, really sick of drinking light beer. And with good reason: Light beer is the horrendous bastard child of the beer world that gets better test scores than the prep school kids, like Budweiser.
As you know if you've recently taken Intro to Business and didn't get your memos from one of your friends in another section, you know that one company decided not to stand for this. Taking the microbrew business concept and giving it an injection of national distribution, Boston Beers, the makers of Sam Adams, Boston Lager and the extended family of over 20 beer products, launched the craft beer phenomenon.
No longer would beer lovers be forced to drink their local mediocre brews (Yuengling and National Bohemian spring to mind.) With national distribution, big league marketing and, at times, corporate acquisition, craft beer is now everywhere.
The Boston Beer product line is a microcosm of the national craft beer market. Some craft beers are good. Some, for only a little more than the price of a six-pack of Natty Ice, give the drinker a veritable plethora of beer flavor that a would-be fraternity rusher could only dream of while patiently waiting for a red plastic cup to fill with foam. There is but one caveat.
Most craft beers suck. Including some Boston Beers.
Now, it is understandable that the increased amount of flavor in these beers would turn some tasters off and entice others, which is why popular beers have little flavor: No one really hates them. And the increased flavor in some beers (such as Sam Adams Oktoberfest or Summer Ale) makes them fairly decent beverages.
Imagine opening a Sam Adams Brown Ale. You pour it into a cup, sniff it and realize that it is actually carbonated bottled water from the Charles River taken near the Fenway Park sewage outflow. There is nothing patriotic about this beer. In fact, it leads one to worry that a foreigner might actually order one and be ruined on American beer forever. Sam Adams's Web site claims that Brown Ale is "dark in color, yet medium-bodied" and later claims that it has a "deep malt body." A discriminating reader will note the contradiction in beer vocabulary and realize that not only is s/he being lied to, but that "Brewmaster" is not a real word, and as such, the man responsible for this beer is merely a funny-looking guy with a beard in the commercials and not someone who knows how to brew brown ale.
Budweiser is another guilty entrant into the sub-stellar craft beer world, following on the heels of the MillerCoorsMcCain empire's foray. I recently imbibed a Budweiser American Ale on tap at a dive bar in my hometown to get the true American Ale experience. I ordered without reservation and softened my palate with a Coors Light draft, after which, anything would taste better. This statement does not hold true for American Ale.
My assessment is that Budweiser tried to brew an India Pale Ale, but it came out red and not very good, but they decided to mass produce it anyway. As I neared the end of my beverage, an intoxicated fellow threw his empty glass at me and yelled something profane. I think he was drinking the same thing and was upset about the taste.
Now, I do not mean to imply that all craft beers are disgusting and lead to Jekyll and Hyde personality shifts. In fact, some brewers have created craft beers that are fantastic and taste like the sweet nectar of hop-growing regions of the world. Red Hook's Late Harvest Ale and Longhammer IPA, and most anything brewed by Dogfish Head spring to mind (and inspire me to go to Wine Source).
Sadly, most craft brewers think all one must do to make a nice beer is mix some hops, yeast and water, come up with a fancy label design for Joe Sixpack and let marketing do the rest. Beware when you stand in the back of Schnapp Shoppe trying to look like you're 21 or when you're in front of the Wailing Refrigerator Wall at Wine Source, which is daunting to the amateur beer pilgrim. Go ahead and ask an employee, because they know what is good beer and what is actually canal runoff or something tilapia fish were raised in.
Perhaps I'm being dramatic, but America now stands at a beer crossroads. Americans can, as they have done since Prohibition, accept ersatz "quality" beer as a way of life and miss out on the world of flavor that awaits just beyond the quality beer horizon. Or we can stand up, as the rest of the beer-drinking world has for centuries, and demand delicious brews for reasonable prices. The choice is ours; we should choose wisely.
