In their article, the Brewer’s Association states:

In 2009, craft brewers represented 4.3 percent of volume and 6.9 percent of retail dollars for the total U.S. beer category. With the total U.S. beer industry representing an estimated retail dollar value of $101 billion, the Brewers Association estimates the actual dollar sales figure from craft brewers in 2009 was $7 billion, up from $6.3 billion in 2008.

In the grand scheme of things, craft beer is still the needle in the haystack, but these figures have some profound implications.  First of all, Americans are drinking considerably less beer.  A nationwide drop of two percent is no small margin.  Second, some are clearly transmigrating to different suds.  And thirdly, and most importantly to me, there is room for considerable growth in the craft community, and people are ready for it.

The beauty of capitalism (sorry Michael Moore…I do know it has its flaws) is that it is very responsive to market conditions:  A struggling giant inadvertently opens the door for the little guy.  An investor who reads these figures will be less inclined than before to get in bed with a company like inBev and more interested in getting in on the ground level with a micro brewery start up…perhaps the start up that Mike and I dream of every night.

Case in point, us beer geeks aren’t the only ones to take notice of our small victory:

The 2009 growth and popularity of beer from small and independent breweries did not go unnoticed by industry observers. The National Restaurant Association Chef Survey (see results), for example, cited “locally-produced wine and beer” among its top five overall trends to watch for in 2010. In the alcohol and cocktails category, the organization ranked “locally-produced wine and beer” as its top trend, while “food-beer pairings” came in at number five on the list.

Little by little, people are tiring of conglomorate.    Herd mentality is waning.   The same capitalistic system that grew some of the beer giants to their inflated sizes is now the force that is humbling them. This gives me hope.

In my opinion, craft beer will never completely overtake big beer as long as American’s continue to bow before the one eyed monster in our living room that boasts of the macro brewers marketing budget.  Besides this, the magnanimous nature of the craft brewer has little to no room for contested market space, dollar motivated mergers/takeovers, and all around consumerism.

At this point, while I rejoice over craft beer’s growth and will continue to do so in subsequent years, I don’t mind that it is still a part of the minority/margin (and not just because my arrogance craves the esoteric).  Should the big boys completely fail and we were to wake up tomorrow with InBev, Molson-Coors, etc. a thing of the past, I would hope that marginal mom & pop diversified nature of craft beer continued on.

Here’s to all the micro and craft brewers out there eking out a living for our sake!  Cheers!

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“Absence makes the heart grow fonder…”

So the saying goes, right?  But is it true?  A little context before I answer…

For personal reasons, for a short spell I have had to cut beer (and all alcohol, but I rarely stray from beer) out of my diet.  That’s right.  That sweet and bitter nectar that makes us swoon, that divine gift of God, delicious and sustaining elixir I find myself abstaining from.  I have tried to replace it.  Ginger ale, root beer, and sparkling water fill my glass at night…and they are a disgrace.

The first week wasn’t too bad as I worked fervently to displace thoughts of beer with others.  But after eight days, I found my mouth moistening uncontrollably at the mere mention of anything beer related.  Tears fill my eyes as I read reviews of beers that should be filling my cup and mouth.  As I read, I shut my eyelids and swish imaginary  beer in my mouth and contemplate the mirage of flavors:  mmmm sweet taosted caramel malt, a hind of lemon grass and pine nuts…is that melon I pick up on?  Ooohhh, what a nice spicy and bitter hop finish.  But I open my eyes and it was all in my head.

I open my refrigerator, and there is beer in it, but I must resist the temptation.   My beer cellar calls to me, and the two kegs of homebrew in my basement are desparate for attention…but they must wait.

Now, my body feels no different.  My energy level remains the same with or without beer.  I sleep the same, wake up feeling the same, and my small gut has yet to recede.  It has been three weeks and I feel no chemically driven compulsion to drink a beer.  It isn’t the warm and fuzzy feeling, warm cheeks, or tingly tongue that I miss.  It is the delicious flavor that can come from no other source, alcoholic or not, that we call beer.

It is horrible.  It is a horror.

My only consolation is that soon, very soon, I will be reunited with a delectable pint of ale, and I daresay it may be the best glass I’ve had in years, regardless of style, origin, or general rating.

How about you?  Have you ever given up the bubbly stuff?  Did your heart pine like mine?  Am I the only crazy one here?

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First of all, it really did take quite a bit of effort to post as much as we have.  I think about it sometimes. We’ve literally written the equivalent of more than a 1,000 page book on the site.  That’s a serious amount of writing.  As far as myself, I also do quite a bit of reading and thinking on the subject of beer aside from writing for the site.  So, for every hour of writing I do on the site, I’m doing at least a few hours of reading, thinking, and dreaming about beer.  I know that Nate does a lot in that respect as well.  But why do we write?  Why am I irritated when we don’t put up a post on a given day? Why am I happier when we have a couple of posts up?  Simple…you guys and girls.

I’m certain that writing for our humble site would have been a very difficult task without the encouragement, interaction, and sheer readership that you have given to us.  It makes it so much easier when you have fellow enthusiast around you. I could name, re-name, and re-re-name all the people who have supported our site.  I’ve written a post or two thanking them for their support, so I won’t go back into that aspect of the site right now.  At any rate, Nate and I would like to thank everyone for stopping by.  Our ardent readers, our new readers, and even our occasional ones deserve a ton of credit.  Thanks to everyone…I hope to be telling you about a million before too long.

Enjoy the picture of me plotting for more visits with my dastardly perv-stache.

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While roasting my own cocoa beans the other night, I realized that it was not an easy thing to do.  That chocolate bar that we grab is not easily processed.  I wanted to put some cocoa beans in a brew that I was making, so I heated the oven and started going.  (I read up on it, so I’m over-simplifying.)  I worked on those things for about 30 minutes or so and realized that I over-cooked them slightly.  The cocoa flavors were there but so was a touch of bitterness and a smoky quality.

The whole process got me thinking about the nature of trial and error.  Error can be a great thing because it’s a building block for the next trial.  I learned what I did wrong and expect a better result the next time.

Why do I mention all this?  How many attempts did it take to isolate a yeast strain?  How many trials and errors did it take to arrive at a certain flavor profile or grain type?  How many batches of grain were burnt, undercooked, or otherwise ruined because of trial and error?  What sorts of happy accidents occurred as a result of an unplanned error?  I think the answer to all these questions is…a lot.

I put those cocoa beans in my beer.  Why?  I thought they were imperfect but useable.  In some ways, that’s why I keep brewing beer.  I never have a perfect recipe.  Never have I found “the beer.”  I am personally the collective sum of all my trials and errors… and I’m a better brewer for it.

However, this is not all introspective and existential.  Sure, I’m proud of the growth I’ve made.  Yet I still have to remind myself that I’m the recipient of the shared trials and errors of thousands upon thousands of brewers.  Every time I roast a bean, use some grains, sip a beer, pitch some yeast and literally work with hundreds and thousands of other aspects of beer, I’m sharing in the trials and errors of my beer brethren.  Cherish your beer!

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Music and beer have gone together for ages.  In fact, many of the old hymns you may sing in your churches actually credit their music to old pub and drinking songs of the middle ages and earlier. And how many epic love songs were written after a few beers got the artist thinking introspectively?

The song you are listening to right now (which just oozes of pure awesomeness) I actually downloaded from some random MySpace music page back before the mighty empire of myspace tumbled.  I wish I could attribute some credit to the artists, whose names are “Scott and Jimmy,” but the MySpace page has long since vanished. It’s too bad.

Many a time I have sat down at my guitar and tried to compose a sonnet as lovely as “The Answer Is Beer,” but have always come up short. I hope to someday compose a song of such beauty. When I do, you will be the first to know?

Do you like the song? Have you written an ode to out beloved beverage?

“Though the question isn’t clear, the answer, is beer.”

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Here’s the thing: the basic message deals with the fact the all aspects of the market place are dominated by the big boys. Distribution independence is a rare commodity, and everyone is in bed with the big players.  I wish that I was simply being hyperbolic like I love to be, but the issue is real.  I remember a while back that a certain other website was grousing about not being able to get Stone while they were planning a new facility in Europe.  But maybe the fingers could have been better spent pointing right down the street at Budweiser.  Either way, fair distribution and a level playing field are veritable impossibility.

Have you ever complained about not being able to get certain beers?  Me, too.  There are a myriad of reasons why you might not be able to get a beer.  A brewery might just not be big enough.  Maybe there are simply a finite amount of possibilities.  Maybe you can see the beer at eye level (a point made in the movie).  But maybe, just maybe, the distribution is just not there.  Either way, is craft beer awareness a bad thing?  Is putting a dent in the wallet and mullet (NASCAR reference) of an empire such a bad thing? Click and read the original apologetic for the movie.  And purchase it.  I’m answering the call to action as many ways as possible.

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Which brings me to beer ratings…

I’ve discussed in the past how at times, certain beers achieve cult status, simply because in a viral sort of way, the herd deems one beer “the best,” and the intrepid reviewer would hate to disseminate a contrary opinion.  Now, some beers are the best, because they simply are, “the best.”  I have had plenty of top rated beers achieved beer God status on their own merit.  From time to time, however, I stumble across a beer that makes me wonder why it is so coveted by the craft community.

Yes I have a beer in mind.  It is Hopslam.

Before I go further, let me silence the haters.  I LOVE Hopslam.  I think it is delicious.  I buy a bottle or two every year at it’s release.  I love Bell’s Brewery.  They produce quality, delicious beers.  Hopslam included.

Why the disclaimer?  Not to long ago someone on Twitter asked, “What beers do you think are overrated?” I responded, “Hopslam;” to which the inquisitor replied, “even this year’s? i think it’s pretty tasty.“ Tasty, yes…overrated…yes.

I drank three Hopslams this season, one a week three weeks in a row, trying to see if I could taste the pixy dust in this brew that inspires someone to pack the trunk of their car (saw a picture of that scenario) with the stuff.  Each sip was good…very good, but each sip wasn’t a euphoric experience as described by countless twitter updates the past month or so.  The beer is very well balanced, has a nice sweet and fruity malt with a caramel aftertaste, and a tasty hop profile (I picked up on Centennial).  It finishes smooth.  No complaints.  I’d rate it 4.25 out of 5 subjective but not arbitrary stars.  That’s a great rating.   But it’s not the 6 out of 5 (yes I saw that on twitter) that the community attributes it.

I’m not alone in this.  Billy Broas quickly agreed and said that in his opinion, were Dogfish Head’s 90 minute a special seasonal release it would be considered as sacred as Hopslam.   He’s on to something.  The fact that 1) Hopslam is a limited seasonal release, 2) it comes in an expensive $17.99+  six pack (actually this is a great deal compared to other Double IPAs that are served up in bomber sizes) and 3) it’s called Hopslam, contributes to its respectable yet overinflated (in my opinion) eminence.

I know in your head you are asking me, “Nate, so what IS better than Hopslam?”

Plenty, I’m sure but here’s one: Southern Tier’s Oak Aged Unearthly
Imperial India Pale Ale.  After reading about the non-oaked version over at Beer and Whiskey Bros, I had to try it, and boy an I glad I did.  This beer is packed full of complexity, even moreso than Hopslam.  The flavors are so familiar but so unique and avant garde at the same time.  Hops and fruity malts give way to serious whiskey flavors and lush earthy oakiness, peppered with occasional sour bites.  Like Pavlov’s dog, I’m drooling on my keyboard (Pavlov’s dog was a renowned blogger, you know).

Feel free to disagree with me.  It’s beer after all, and beer is open to a wide (but not total) degree of subjectivity.  Before you go and answer one or both of these questions:

1) What beers do YOU feel are overrated in the craft community?

2) What makes Hopslam so highly rated?

And remember, this post is not a diatribe against one of my favorite brewery’s beer.  I love the Hopslam, I’m just not prepared to marry it.

PHOTO CREDIT

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Andrea and I run.  We try to exercise and take good care of ourselves, so we find ourselves running around town.  Often times, when we are not running at the Rose Bowl, we jog to the park where I can do pull-ups and the like.  I never thought that I’d see some abstract and somewhat ridiculous art while running–but there I was.

Lap 1:  I see what looks like an old guy in a diaper with wings on his back standing behind a woman in a dress, who is sitting on a bench with a man beside her and a dog on her lap.  Meanwhile, the photographer is taking a picture of the scene.  Already this was strange because it was maybe more surreal that most things I’ve seen (even during my days of hallucination).  I happened to be listening to Helter Skelter while I was running, too…that didn’t help me from feeling like was tripping.

Lap 2:  I thought I had a better handle on the picture when I passed the second time.  The old man had a bow and arrow…ah!  He was cupid, but why was he old?  It must be old cupid shooting the man and the woman so that they’d fall in love.  Right?!

Lap 3:  I saw the peanut butter come out.  Apparently, the peanut butter was being placed on the cheek of the woman. Why?  I figured that out when I saw the dog going to town on the cheek of the young lady.  Was the picture getting clearer or more convoluted?

Lap 4:  I gave up trying to figure out what was going on so I just decided what the scene meant.  Apparently, love (or cupid) is old/old-fashioned.  Love has missed its mark and created the oddest of situations in which the owner and pet have a love relationship (what’s happening with the rest of that peanut butter?).

Is this just some random mumbling?  I suppose it is in a way, but it did get me thinking about beer.  Whenever I drink a beer one time, it’s immediately approachable.  The more “laps” I take on the beer, the more I get it.  Beer just isn’t one of those abstractions.  It’s accessible, meaningful, and not enigmatic.  As a bonus, no dogs have to lick your face for you to say something meaningful about your brew.  Thank God that beer is not abstract.  Can you imagine how painful it might be to try to keep pace with the example above?

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Of course, a beer analogy ensues.

In 2002 Samuel Adams wowed the world with it’s release of a monster of a beer, Utopias, which boasted an ABV of 27%.  Go ahead and search around online for it.  A quick google search revealed a several year old bottle for $599.99.  Sam Adam’s spends years making this beverage, aging it in used liquor barrels.

Sam Adam’s inadvertently started the big beer race, and it seems to have picked up speed in recent months.  First off, let me state that there is an overwhelming trend of bigger beers.  It seems the higher the ABV, the more interest a beer generates.  Remember The Bruery?  Of course you do.  They brewed that big old imperial stout, Black Tuesday.  Prior to the Black Tuesday hype were they even a blip on your radar?  Interesting to the theme of this article is a comment made to Mike when he was touring Bruery.  I recall him telling me that a brewer said, in reference to Black Tuesday, that they wanted to eventually push the ABV beyond that of Utopias and that they didn’t even care what it tastes like.

This was before the release of Tactical Nuclear Penguin, by Scottish bad boys, Brewdog.  Tactical Nuclear Penguin was marketed as  The Strongest Beer in the World.  This experiment in ridiculously high ABV weighed in at 32%.  I still have not tried it, so I cannot vouch for it’s magnificence, and I am not going to spend my kids’ college fund on it, so go here to read some reviews.

It seems a German brewery–Schorschbräu–just couldn’t stand the fact that Brew Dog’s proverbial lawn was greener than their own, so they brewed up a better tasting higher ABV brew that boasted and alcohol content of 40%.

Weeks later, Brew Dog is now announcing the creation of their latest brew, Sink the Bismark, that one-up’s the Bavarian Beast by 1% with an ABV of 41%.  And I am getting tired.

Now, I am not opposed to avantgarde brewing and feel that for my purposes Reinheitsgebot is a tad silly.  I am not opposed to big ABV beers.  In fact, I brewed up a 17.4% Belgian Stout; however, in mind was not highly elevated alcohol, but rather a unique flavor.  In fact, Mike defended Tactical Nuclear Penguin, and I agreed with every word he said.  I uphold Brew Dog as brewery that makes fantastic beer, and champion their right to brew up a beast of a beer and still call it beer.

I suppose I’d offer up a cautionary tidbit of advice to brewers, including myself as a homebrewer:  Let’s keep exceptional flavor in focus as the desired end result rather than peripherals such as enormous ABV’s.

For the record, I still want to try all of aforementioned beers in this article, and please do not misconstrue my words as passing judgment upon Brew Dog or Schorschbräu as having forgotten their first love of better beer, because I do not believe they have.  Unlike certain critics, I’ll concede that Brew Dog’s latest creation is still “beer.”  I  just hope that in the next few months I hear less of the world’s strongest beer, and more of the world’s tastiest beer.

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