It’s easy to get lost in the hoopla of beer trading, one-off releases, and beard-grooming techniques, but in the end, being a Beer Geek is really about a deep, unnatural love for beer. A love that transcends class, race, and sex and can only be completely understood by others who have seen that perfectly opaque, lightly carbonated golden light.
Since the time of the ancient Sumerians, humans have appreciated the result of fermented barley or, as we call it, beer. Way back then, it provided the multiple benefits of sanitizing drinking water, delivering sustenance, and taking the edge off after a long day of creating civilization. In short, the world as we know it wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for our forebearers’ affinity for earthen mugs of ale.
Beer has been on a long journey ever since. From the first hopped beers in the ninth century to the barleywines of 1800s England, this sweet nectar has been gradually tweaked to match the tastes and ingredients of different cultures. In the globalized information era we live in today, though, brewers are only limited by their imaginations, and beer drinkers have responded enthusiastically, to say the least. Beer is making a strong case for the world’s drink of choice, and Beer Geeks are banging the rally drum for all to hear.
What does a Beer Geek look for in a beer? This is a complex question to answer, and every adored beer has a slightly different story. A common set of characteristics seems to surface among such beers, however, painting a picture of what it takes to brew Beer Geek gold.
Aroma: A beer must provide an aromatic experience. Beer Geeks savor their beer and get almost as much satisfaction from smelling it as drinking it.
Brewer credentials (optional): Most Beer Geeks pride themselves on being able to appreciate a good beer regardless of its producer. However, knowing a beer is made by a fellow Beer Geek makes it that much more enjoyable.
Mouthfeel: An IPA may be delicious and smell like a hop field in bloom, but if it has the body of club soda, the experience is ruined. Mouthfeel completes the package.
Complexity (optional): A Beer Geek may love the simple, acrid nature of a coffee stout. But to make her heart sing, barrel-age that same stout to add flavors of vanilla, caramel, and coconut.
Taste: A beer must taste good.
Brewing method: Beer Geeks pour their hearts and souls into their enjoyment of beer and expect the people who make it to have the same attitude when brewing. Beer Geeks thrive on learning and appreciating the work that goes into their brews, and therefore frown greatly on shortcuts.
Rarity (optional): A beer doesn’t have to be difficult to acquire, but damned if that doesn’t make everything taste better.
To truly love beer, a Beer Geek needs to know beer, and not just that it’s made from barley and hops. One needs to understand the entire spectrum of types and their nuances. For example, a classic mistake of a noob (a somewhat derogatory term for one who has not reached Beer Geekdom) is to downplay pilsners, grouping them all in with the mass-produced American factory lagers. But a Beer Geek knows the bliss that can come from the floral hops and crisp, carbonic bite of a Weihenstephaner Pilsner. A firm knowledge of the subtleties that differentiate styles allows Beer Geeks to set an expectation for the beer before tasting it, enabling them to maximize the quality of their analysis and subsequent enjoyment (or critique).
The guidelines for beer styles are laid out and defined by two different governing bodies: the Beer Judge Certification Program (BJCP) and the Brewers Association. These two generally tend to agree, though the BJCP guidelines are typically more comprehensive while the strength of the Brewers Association guidelines is that they are updated more frequently and therefore include newly emerging styles (Brett IPAs, for example). For the most part, the guidelines were created for the sake of beer competitions so that beers could be judged against similar counterparts, but they are also used by brewers who design beers.
The style guidelines are written, reviewed, and maintained by an assembly of beer “experts” (historians, brewers, writers, drunks, etc.) who use their combined wealth of experience to come to a consensus on what characterizes a specific style of beer. The guidelines include a description of the expected appearance, aroma, taste, mouthfeel, and overall impression of the beer. Along with the descriptions, there are quantified specifics like IBU range, final gravity, color, and ABV. Since these guidelines are designed to aid brewers in designing beers, also included is information on typical or acceptable ingredients, as well as any historically significant brewing techniques (such as decoction mashing of a bock).
While no Beer Geek will argue the importance of being aware of and understanding the guidelines, many will debate their usefulness. Some say that using them to critique a beer is shortsighted, that they are arbitrary constraints that hamper creativity. The opposing side, the style tyrants, reply that the guidelines are critical, time-tested outlines that lead brewers toward creating the ideal beer.
Here’s an example: You head to your local brewery and order their Belgian wit. By definition, the beer should have a honey-like sweetness, peppery phenols, citrusy esters, and little to no hop presence. This beer has all those things in spades, except it’s got this intense tropical fruitiness from being dry hopped, which you find delicious. The fact that it misses the hoppy aspect of the style guidelines does not make it a bad beer — far from it. But style tyrants would dis-agree and dismiss it as being “not to style.”
Most Beer Geeks know that the truth lies somewhere in between. Style guidelines are viewed as base knowledge. Just as a chef should first know how to cook a basic pot roast before working on their braised, alder-smoked beef cheek recipe, brewers should learn how to brew the classics before looking to color outside the lines.
A Beer Geek has an appreciation for the basic beer styles and can use them as tools for comparison, but judges beers based on their merits, not necessarily their compliance with the guidelines.
Probably the biggest issue concerning styles is in their proper usage (or lack thereof) when naming a beer. Some breweries are reluctant to note a style on their labels for one reason or another — fear of style tyrants, being too cool to be pigeonholed by such things, etc. — and instead they use some random nonsensical name. (Evil Twin Brewing is one of the worst offenders. With names like Even More Jesus or Ryan and the Beaster Bunny, it’s anybody’s guess as to whether you’re buying an imperial stout, an IPA, or the demo tape of a bad ’90s band.) This puts beer consumers in a predicament, not knowing exactly what they’re getting into when making a purchase. Equally bad is finding some suggestion of a style, but it’s too generic, à la Upslope Brewing Company’s Craft Lager. This name is quite possibly the most infuriating one ever conjured, the equivalent of a restaurant menu featuring a dish called “Meat with an Assortment of Things.”
Other times, though, a simple style name is not enough. For example, if a brewery labels their coffee-infused, tequila barrel–aged IPA just as an IPA, they’re not being fair to the consumer. Beer drinkers have the right to more information so they can avoid this beer with all their being.
Again, the foundation of Beer Geekery is a solid understanding of the basic beer styles. Here is a CliffsNotes version of their general characteristics and current Beer Geek attitudes toward them:
Light Lager. Often dismissed due to its inclusion of the “lite” American lager, this category also consists of such great beers as the Munich helles and the Dortmunder export. Sweet, but not cloying, with a subtle hop bitterness, the incredible drinkability of these two styles proves this is a category to be reckoned with. You’re not a Beer Geek until you’ve drunk a Maß (one-liter mug) of Spaten helles while eating some sort of tubed pork meat.
Pilsner. Made up of three different varieties: the German pilsner, best known for its dry finish and high bitterness due to the local sulfate-rich water; the Czech pilsner, maltier than its German cousin and with a spicy hop bite from the local Saaz hops; and the American pilsner, a near-extinct style that early US brewers made with corn and American hops — rich and hoppy, Budweiser this is not. With nowhere in this beer for flaws to hide, Beer Geeks respect the extreme care brewers have to take to create this light, quaffable brew.
European Amber Lager. Oktoberfest beers for the most part, but also includes the Vienna lager, a delicately malty amber with an elegant, dry finish. However, with so many bad versions of this style (ahem, Negra Modelo), it’s an easy category to dump on. Still, anyone who has had the excellent German-brewed versions of these beers realizes there is no better showcase of the kilned Munich and Vienna malts.
Bock. While not a hugely common or popular style in the United States, the intensely malt-rich bocks deserve more attention than they get. Made by decoction mashing (repeatedly boiling wort to kettle-caramelize the malt), these beers are considered by many to be too sweet, which is no surprise considering the most popular — the extra-strength dopplebock — was created to give sustenance to fasting monks. Which leads to the logical conclusion of many Beer Geeks that one should crack a bottle of Paulaner Salvator every Sunday morning for spiritual guidance.
Hybrid Beer. Called hybrid because they could be made with either ale or lager yeasts, the “light” beers of this category includes such American beer staples as the wheat and blonde ales. Not a whole lot for Beer Geeks to get excited about. The amber hybrids are similar but with a little roasted malt and include the German altbier and the common (steam) ale. In general, hybrids are viewed as nothing more than BBQ beers.
English Pale Ale. These are the beers that started the US microbrew craze and the same beers that no one seems to care about anymore. They include beers like Fuller’s ESB (Extra Special Bitter) and Boddington’s Pub Ale. Malty, medium-strength, and made with UK-produced hops, they now come off as a bit flat and unexciting when compared to today’s hoppier, cleaner American ales. Kind of like a Sega Genesis compared to the PlayStation 4. There’s some fun nostalgia there, but there’s really no going back.
Scottish and Irish Ale. Includes traditional Scottish ales, Irish red ales, and wee heavy ales. Malty, sometimes with a hint of peat, these beers have little to no hop presence. This stems from the high taxation and logistical difficulties involved with importing hops from the UK (they don’t grow well in cool Scotland). That and the Scottish disdain for all things British. Not terribly popular anymore, except for the wee heavy ale whose bruising strength speaks to Beer Geeks’ penchant for high ABV beers.
American Ale. The general category for general styles: American pale ale, American brown ale, and American amber ale. Basically, take the English version of these and make them cleaner (yeast-wise, with fewer esters and no diacetyl) and substantially hoppier. While the style guidelines define the expected hoppiness and ABV of these beers, they are always changing, and usually in an upward direction. These are the session ales of the Beer Geeks, and their profiles are constantly tweaked to match ever-changing tastes.
Session is one of the most used and beloved adjectives of a Beer Geek. The word is generally used to describe a beer that can be consumed in relatively large volumes over a long drinking session. Session beers are first and foremost low in alcohol. Some say the cutoff is 5% ABV, while others argue 4.5%. (This seemingly menial difference of opinion will lead some Beer Geeks to come to blows. Beer-fueled passion is an interesting thing.) These beers should also have a low amount of residual sugars (think “lite” beer) and a flavor profile that won’t wear out your palate. Not overly bitter, roasted, sour, or anything else, they are great beers to consume while watching sporting events, BBQing, or supervising children.
IPA (India Pale Ale). First created by the English in the nineteenth century, IPAs were brewed with more hops and had a higher ABV than the traditional pale ales. This allowed them to better survive the long trip to troops stationed in India. Fast-forward to today, and the beers that bear this name have only the slightest resemblance to those initial pioneering ales. Now made with ridiculous amounts of hops and even more alcohol, they’ve grown to represent the evolved tastes of the American Beer Geek. Every few years you’ll find new and creative takes on this style, with the latest fueled by the intensely fruity experimental hops being bred in hop labs around the world. Big-time Beer Geek beers.
Double IPA. Beer Geeks love IPAs. And in the spirit of American ingenuity, it follows that what makes something good (i.e., hops) could be doubled to make it great. Double IPAs (DIPAs) have more hops, more malts, and more alcohol than their predecessor.
The development of the DIPA has followed a similar path as the IPA, with an ever-increasing amount of hoppiness and experimentation with new flavors stemming from the new school of experimental hops.
If an IPA were an SUV, a DIPA would be a monster truck driven by a deranged, drunken Kool-Aid Man.
German Wheat Beer. Essentially hefeweizens (and their obscure darker counterparts, the dunkelweizen and weizenbock), these beers saw ridiculous extremes in popularity back in the early 2000s. A unique flavor combination of banana and cloves along with a fluffy body make for a very distinctive beer experience. Particularly popular among sorority girls and German sheepherders, the German wheat beer is currently in vogue as something to dislike, but it’s enjoying a quiet resurgence among purist Beer Geeks.
Belgian and French Ales. A very broad category that encompasses Belgian wit beer, saison, and bière de garde. From the realm of traditional Belgian brewers and Americans with a fondness for using words such as artisanal, rustic, farmhouse, and handmade, these ales are made with unruly yeast strains and a variety of unusual grains and ingredients. When done correctly, these can be some of the finest beers in the world, giving a talented brewer the ability to showcase unique ingredients. For the same reason they earn high praise in the Beer Geek world. However, since these beers are notoriously hard to define, many beers that aren’t really saisons — but are too yeasty or turbid to be called anything else — get a saison label slapped on them and are sold for a premium. Buyer beware.
Sour Ale. A collection of beers spanning from tart to mouth-puckeringly acidic. Includes the Berliner weisse, a lightly tart German wheat beer; the Flanders red ale, a fruity, almost winelike, oak-aged ale; and lambic, the spontaneously fermented, blended wild Belgian wheat ale. In the early 2010s Beer Geeks dragged this style up from the ashes like a phoenix. Tired of the limitations of traditional yeasts and their flavors, they flocked to the seemingly endless array of flavors that can be derived in these styles. Sour ales are sometimes made with fruits and are typically brewed in small batches, driving up both the price and the Beer Geek’s heart rate.
American Wild Ale. As Beer Geeks began to discover and obsess over the sour beers of Europe, US breweries responded with their own versions. After all, most brewers are Beer Geeks themselves. A new wave of beers that were often sour but sometimes just a little funky (or wild) hit the scene, with very mixed results. This new breed of ales didn’t quite fit the mold of its European counterparts. Often, they were made with different ingredients, brewed untraditionally, and inoculated with cultured “wild” yeast (the horror!). Some incredibly creative soul decided they would be called American Wild Ales, and this worthless moniker has stuck. The style seemingly encompasses any beer from stouts to saisons brewed with Brettanomyces yeast or souring bacteria, and trying to group all of them into a single generic category has proved rather silly. Regardless, the best in the group have shone through and captured a place in Beer Geeks’ hearts.
Porter. Dark, malty beers with roasted notes ranging from coffee to chocolate. Considered a bit more of an old-school style, porters received a popularity boost by Beer Geek darling Hill Farmstead, whose flagship beer, Everett, happens to be a porter. This brewery, which will set most Beer Geeks to dry humping the nearest piece of furniture, helped elevate this humble style back into Beer Geek grace.
Stout. Often one of the gateway beers for burgeoning Beer Geeks who are most familiar with fizzy, yellow lagers; many are shocked and strangely excited about drinking something so dark and full of flavor that they’re used to finding in a coffee mug. There is a huge variety of stout types too, ranging from the hoppy American stout to the dry Irish version, not to mention the powerhouse imperial stout. The intense roasted flavors lend themselves to a variety of creative additions, such as coffee, bourbon, vanilla, coconut, ham hocks, and more, making it a Beer Geek staple.
Beer geeks are representatives of the beer world and thus are often asked the same questions by non–Beer Geeks. A classic example is how a porter and a stout differ, since both are near-black and dominated by roasted malt flavor. The answer is not a whole helluva lot. While beers in the upper end of the stout spectrum are often more roasted and slightly higher in alcohol than porters are, there is a gray area where both of these beers exist. In fact, many of the beers made in the United States that are called stouts would really be better described as porters. Since “stout” is an inherently cooler name, however, it gets used more often.
Belgian Strong Ale. Traditionally, Belgians aren’t fond of categorizing beers and find American Beer Geeks’ insistence on doing it somewhere on the border of amusing and annoying. It’s been a challenge for Beer Geeks to try to define Belgian styles, as the Belgians seem to create every sort of random, odd beer imaginable and not follow many rules. For this reason, the category encompasses Belgian blondes, dubbels, tripels, and the ever-descriptive strong Belgian golden ale and strong Belgian dark ale. A very wide range of profiles appears within these types. However, seeing as they are almost always high in alcohol, flavor-forward, and made in a country other than the United States, they’ve found the recipe for high popularity in the Beer Geek scene.
Strong Ale. The domain of American and English barleywines, two somewhat similar beers, with the English being more malty and yeasty and the American version tending to have more hop bitterness/flavor/aroma. They are very high in alcohol (10–18% ABV), which not only makes for some intense beers but also suits them well for barrel aging and home cellaring — two magical terms to a Beer Geek. Very highly regarded.
Beer competitions are everywhere, and any beer event worth its salt uses certified beer judges (a surprising number use random beer drinkers, any of whose palate may be on par with that of a chain-smoking monkey). The typical path to becoming a legit beer judge is to go through the aptly named Beer Judge Certification Program, which involves both written and sensory tests. By excelling at those tests and logging hours at competitions, judges can rise through the ranks: first Apprentice, then Certified, and finally something like Purple Level III Grand Master (the rank names seem to be heavily inspired by Dungeons & Dragons). Attaining a higher rank will earn a judge a shiny pin that she can lord over lowly apprentice judges who dare contradict her evaluation.
Judging presents a bit of a quandary at first, since you must judge a beer not simply on how good it is but also on how it measures up in its style category. Even so, beer judging can be a fantastic thing. There is no better process to sharpen and broaden your palate than to have to write a small essay describing a beer. However, a Beer Geek doesn’t lose sight of enjoying a beer for what it is, thus avoiding that slippery slope to becoming a style tyrant.
The Belgians don’t take much seriously. They certainly create and enjoy some of the world’s best beers, but they don’t have an ultra-solemn attitude about it all. To them, while a beer must be good and must be paired with the right food and mood, the vast majority of the population hasn’t reached the point of making it a lifestyle. Which is precisely why it’s peculiar that Belgians are so very fanatical about their glassware.
Go to a bar in Brussels and nearly every beer has its own dedicated glass. From a distance, the collection of goblets and tulips is almost overwhelming, making it look more like a Waterford Crystal museum than what it actually is . . . a place to look like a fool trying to pronounce gueuze (see Commonly Mispronounced Beer Names and Terms).
The legend goes that each beer’s glass has been designed to perfectly complement the nuances of that specific beer. The curvature of the glass creates the perfect head retention, the diameter lets in the exact amount of light for the idyllic hue, the arc of lip flawlessly spreads the beer across the ideal receptors on your tongue, and so on. And while some of this might be true, the fact is that much of the Belgium beer glass scene is actually about marketing. American beer bars have neon signs proclaiming what’s being poured, while Belgian bars take the more civilized approach of having their vast array of glasses do the work.
While Beer Geeks understand that much of the hubbub around glassware is marketing hype, they don’t jump to the conclusion that we should be barbarians and drink all beer out of pint glasses.
No, glass type and shape is important to Beer Geeks, but having a glass for every single beer is viewed by most as a bit over the top.
There is, however, a unique fashionista breed of Beer Snob that has completely bought into the Belgian marketing glass scheme and places great importance on coordinating its beer with its perfect outfit, er, glass. Anybody who’s spent beercentric time on any of the social media sites has surely come across the Glass Snob. You post a pic online of an incredible double IPA poured into your favorite Tripel Karmeliet tulip only to get an immediate reply from your “friend” (whom you’ve never actually met): “Glassware fail. At least get the right country.”
A Beer Geek always drinks his beer from some sort of glass, not the bottle or can it came in. While the tongue can detect general tastes such as sour, sweet, and bitter, any of the more subtle nuances, such as fruity hop notes or spicy Belgian yeast phenols, are actually being picked up by your nose. Drinking straight from a bottle or can cuts out these nuances, causing beers to come across as boring and one-dimensional. It’s always okay to ask a server or bartender for a glass if you’re not given one — just don’t make a big deal about it. Advocacy, not snobbery, is the best path to spreading beery enlightenment.
While it may be fun to match the glass and its beer, most Beer Geeks would rather spend the time, space, money, and overall energy on acquiring actual beer. Instead of being a Glass Snob, a Beer Geek will simply be sure to have the standard collection of beer glasses (an assortment of tulips, snifters, and weiss glasses, mostly) and, most importantly, will know how to appropriately match them to a beer. Here is all you need to know about glass types:
Tulip. The go-to, all-purpose glass for the Beer Geek. Its bulbous base captures volatile aromatics while the tapered top displays impressive head retention. The lip is the perfect finishing touch, though, as its outward curve makes for easy drinking. This is not a sipping glass.
When to use: Any aromatic beer (IPA, saison, stout) drunk at a medium pace. Or even a high pace, for that matter.
Snifter. Originally designed for drinking port and sherry, the combination of a wide, swollen base and narrow opening traps the otherwise fleeting aromatics of these fortified wines. It does the same for aroma-rich beers. The base accommodates palming if the beer needs to be warmed with the hands (plus, it makes you look mighty sophisticated). The narrow mouth forces slow sipping. Head retention is poor due to high surface area of the bulbous base.
When to use: For contemplative, sipping beers where head retention is a non-issue. Mostly strong ales and vintage beers.
Shaker (pint). The scourge of the Beer Geek. This glass was not made with any sort of drinking purpose in mind, but rather to serve as the top to a cocktail shaker. Unfortunately, due to their durability, low cost, and stackability, the shaker has become the glass of choice for the vast majority of bars. Its near-cylindrical shape captures no aroma and provides poor head retention. A lack of stem or handle forces the drinker to warm the beer with his hands, and the thick walls make for a relatively large thermal mass, so a cold beer poured in a hot, just-from-the-dishwasher glass becomes a warm beer. Plus, the shape is about as aesthetically pleasing as a broomstick. It does, however, facilitate high-volume swilling.
When to use: Best suited for drinking water or beers that resemble water.
Nonic (English pint). Basically a shaker glass with a slight bulge on the upper portion. Contrary to popular belief, the bulge serves no sensory purpose and is only present to keep the lip of the glass from being chipped as well as to provide a better grip. Shares all the same shortcomings of the shaker pint.
Mug/Stein. Same pitfalls as the shaker pint but with a distinct advantage: a handle to prevent unintentional warming of the beer. Still, really only suited for high-volume swilling (e.g., at Oktoberfest).
Weiss glass. A tall glass with a narrow bottom and wide, slightly tapering top. The volume of these glasses is oversized to accommodate the large amount of head associated with certain beers, namely German wheats. The sustained, fluffy head traps the volatile, fruity esters and other aromatics, resulting in a beautiful presentation. German bar owners learned long ago that for every weiss beer sold in a weiss glass, they’ll sell 10 more to the “I-vant-vhat-they’re-having” crowd.
When to use: Any pungent beer with high head production. Traditionally used for wheat beers (weisses, wits, etc.) but also superb for IPAs and other beers that have undergone dry hopping, a technique that increases head production.
Goblet. Aesthetically pleasing and impressive, but the advantages stop there. Functionally, these glasses are the bastard offspring of an ill-conceived one-night stand between a shaker glass and a snifter with a seven-year itch. They offer nothing that a snifter or tulip has not already mastered.
When to use: Trying to impress Glass Snobs.
Whales (also known as wales or walez) are very rare beers. Not rare like a Bourbon County Brand Stout; rare like a Bourbon County Brand Stout Rare. (Confused? See BCBS and Rare in the Beer Geek Dictionary.) Among the glass-loving Beer Geeks, a piece of ultra-rare glassware (yes, this exists) is known as a glasswale. These glasses are often old, discontinued glasses from beloved breweries, or glasses that were distributed during a special event.
If shaker glasses are the smelly cousin of the beer glass family, the faux-pint glass is their meth-addicted buddy. One of the vilest inventions to ever hit the beer scene, the faux-pint is a shaker glass that has been modified to contain less than a pint. These modifications typically come in the form of an extra thick bottom or a thickened lower half, though it can also come in the form of a slightly miniaturized glass. The result is a vessel that now contains 2 to 4 ounces less than the purchased “pint” of beer. Essentially outright theft when advertised as a “pint,” this is the equivalent of being served a steak stuffed with sawdust. Typically found in fake Irish and English pubs, chain restaurants, airport bars, and anywhere else devoid of a regular local crowd. However, their appearance in even seemingly respectable establishments has become a disturbing trend.
Marketing again and again proclaims that beer should be served as cold as possible — even slushy, if it can be managed. This message is drilled into you from a young age, just like the message that eating double-decker burgers will help you become an Olympic athlete. But like that creepy red and yellow clown, the advertising execs are full of it.
As a beer becomes colder, the flavors and aromas become considerably muted. The compounds that make up the aromatic qualities of a beer — fruity esters, spicy phenols, hop oils — stay hunkered down in the relative winter of an ice-cold beer. And the frosted glass only serves to numb your tongue and dull any flavors that might manage to cut a swath through the arctic environment. For the BMC (Bud-Miller-Coors) type of beers, this is an advantage, as considerable work has gone into making them resemble water as closely as possible, and the frigid temps further help to achieve this. After all, nobody likes a warmish glass of drinking water.
A Beer Geek is well aware that in order for a good beer to truly shine it needs to be served at its proper temperature. This will vary from style to style but generally falls within the range of 40 to 55°F. The more flavorful beers should be served on the warmer end of the spectrum and the simpler ones on the cooler side (after all, these tend to be refreshing sessionable quaffs).
By letting a beer sit out of the fridge for a short spell, a Beer Geek can achieve the perfect temperature in the comfort of his or her own home. However, when outside of the home the situation isn’t always so simple. To avoid foaming issues, almost all bar and restaurant draft systems are maintained at 38°F, which greatly reduces the overall flavor profile of most beers. If it’s a truly special beer, it’s entirely normal for a Beer Geek to spend a few minutes grasping the glass with both hands in an attempt warm it to a reasonable temperature. (This is done in as obvious a fashion as possible, in view of the bartender or server.)
Drinking from bottles at the bar counter, however, can sometimes present a larger temperature challenge, as the vast majority of locales keep their refrigerators at painfully low temperatures, usually at the food-sanitation mark of 35°F. At this temperature, even the finest beers will come across as one-dimensional and muted, shorting both the brewer and the drinker. This is frustrating because it typically stems from an ignorance of proper serving temps or an unwillingness to have a dedicated beer fridge.
When faced with this oft-occurring situation, a Beer Geek would do well to talk to the proprietor. Managers are often receptive to such talk, and it could lead them to rectify the issue, especially if it is a bar or restaurant that touts itself as specializing in craft beer. More passive Beer Geeks simply let their wallets do the talking and take their business elsewhere.
At some point in the Beer Stone Age, it was decided that keeping thick glass mugs in the freezer was the best way to facilitate the serving of beer at a then-recommended subzero temperature — a somewhat understandable practice given the watery nature of beers at that time. Fast-forward a few decades to our era of vastly better beers, and most beer drinkers have abandoned this barbaric practice. Unfortunately, though, many bars never got the memo (cheesy chain sports bars are the likeliest offenders). For Beer Geeks already frustrated with a 38°F draft pour, this same beer served in an icy mug crosses the line. While advocacy should be the aim in nearly every situation, this is one where there’s no tolerance. A Beer Geek does not, under any circumstances, drink out of a frosted glass. If served one, ask for a room-temperature glass in which to transfer the beer, or just send it back.
As mentioned, Beer Geeks like to obsess about every aspect of a beer — obviously, its taste, aroma, hue, etc. — but let’s face it, also its rarity.
Nothing makes a beer taste better than it being hard to come by.
It’s the same mania that foodies have for the restaurant with a four-month wait list, or the car guy has for the Shelby Cobra. A Beer Geek knows it’s dumb but doesn’t fight it, because, well, it just feels good to get to try a beer that your buddy hasn’t. IPAs that aren’t distributed in-state always have a more complex hop bouquet, and a barleywine’s profile is only brought to its full potential if it has a one-bottle limit.
Whether or not a brewery’s beer is available in certain markets is determined by many things, most notably its distribution network but also the size of the brewery, market competition, and other factors. And there are times when even though a particular market carries a brewery’s beer, a small batch size prevents the market from getting a certain release. Many of these beers are brewed only once. They are experimental batches that the brewery has no intention of adding to their regular portfolio. These are called one-offs.
One-offs have a special appeal for the Beer Geek. First, they’re usually creative beers with weird styles or limited or expensive ingredients. Such small batches are not often cost-effective, more like a financial sacrifice made by brewers to the Beer Geeks. Second, since the plan is to make them only once, their inherent rarity makes them especially sexy.
While a one-off beer is sexy, there is nothing that gets a Beer Geek all hot and bothered like a DONG (Draft Only, No Growlers). These beers are never sold by the bottle, only on draft, nor can you fill a growler to take home with you.
Initially it seems like a weird concept, but the approach stems from a segment of wildly popular breweries that have decided to attempt to combat the trading and reselling of their beer. This can be best explained by an example:
Russian River Brewing Company of Santa Rosa, California, makes what they call a triple IPA, Pliny the Younger. Given its cost and complexity, it is brewed only once a year. It’s available solely at the brewery and to Russian River’s best bar accounts across the country. When it first came out in 2005, loaded with a mindboggling amount of hops yet still surprisingly drinkable at 10.25%, Beer Geeks went crazy for it. Over the years, the hype continued to grow, and Beer Geeks began making pilgrimages to the nearest town or state that had it on tap.
The streets of Santa Rosa became overrun at release time with unruly Beer Geeks wielding crystal-sharp tulip glasses and demanding people’s opinions of the Reinheitsgebot . . .
It was back in those first few years that Russian River allowed patrons to purchase growlers of Pliny the Younger at the bar. As its popularity grew, however, the crowds began to change. No longer were they made up only of Beer Geeks but also of . . . entrepreneurial folk, who started buying as many growlers as allowed. Inevitably, the next day, many of those same growlers showed up for sale on eBay at $150 a pop, to serve the market of distant Beer Geeks unable to travel to taste this über-hyped beer. Russian River didn’t take kindly to this development, for a multitude of reasons, and started banning growler fills of Pliny the Younger in 2011. Hence, the DONG was born.
To be clear, not all draft beers unavailable for growler fills are DONGs. For example, you might go to your local brewpub and find that they won’t fill your growler with their barleywine, but this does not make it a DONG. For a beer to qualify, it must be in such demand that growler fills are prohibited due to resale potential, not because a brewery is trying to stop somebody from doming 64 ounces of 12% ABV beer.
The DONG acronym often comes up when someone new to the beer scene makes the mistake of trying to find or trade for a beer like Pliny the Younger. The online exchange usually goes something like this:
Now, some folks are so desperate to try a DONG that they are willing to trade for a handbottle of it. Handbottling refers to the practice of bringing a refillable bottle (think of a Grolsch swing top) to a bar, ordering a DONG, and then covertly emptying the glass into the bottle. Trading for handbottles is a risky proposition because it requires a lot of faith that the beer is actually what the filler says it is. Also, the quality of a beer that’s been transferred multiple times is always questionable — not to mention the fact that handbottling often occurs in a bathroom stall, exponentially adding to the sketch factor. The type of people who go for such things are referred to as tickers, British slang for beer drinkers whose main goal is to never drink the same beer twice.
Regional distribution is the bane of the Beer Geek. Again, a favorite brewery will inevitably be outside of your local distribution area (the fact that this makes the beer rarer is a mere coincidence, of course). Because of this, a Beer Geek is constantly calling in favors to have friends and family ferry beers back to them whenever they travel. (You know you’re a Beer Geek when people begin to change the subject after they accidentally mention their upcoming trip to Europe.)
On the surface it sounds like a great thing when a locally distributed brewery brews a collaboration beer with a favorite out-of-market brewery. For a brief time you’ll have regular access to a beer that’s brewed (or at least half-brewed) by the coveted out-of-market brewery. Unfortunately, though, these collaborations tend to be subpar.
The general flop of the collaboration brew can be attributed to a variety of reasons:
Beer is a representation of a brewer’s artistic talents, paired (hopefully) with a skilled hand to execute them. However, when two of these creative minds come together, concessions have to be made to meet each of their visions, which often results in mediocrity.
Two brewers aren’t going to get together and brew the perfect pilsner. No, instead they must engage in a constant one-upmanship to show just how creative they can be. If the original idea is a saison, the end product will end up as a cactus-infused saison, steeped in Swiss iguana scrotums and aged in papier-mâché barrels that have been handcrafted by transvestite Japanese monks. In other words, a beer that tries way too hard . . . and tastes like lizard nuts.
It is a well-known fact that brewers like to drink beer with one another. When they get together there’s likely going to be drinking involved. While surely fun, for obvious reasons this probably won’t aid the brew process.
There have been decent collaborations, but the bottom line is, Beer Geeks do not consider a collaboration brew representative of either brewery; rather, they view it as an oddity with only a chance of being half-decent. Therefore, they reserve excitement as well as judgment.
While cocktails have arguably been around for more than two centuries, it wasn’t until Prohibition began in 1919 that they began to gain steam. Before the temperance movement cast a dark shadow over America, a lot of booze was barrel aged and artisan crafted. Rich and complex, these spirits were served neat or over ice.
But once alcohol production was moved to shady back rooms and illicit warehouses, spirits were made as quickly and cheaply as possible. Whiskey was replaced with gin because it could be made in weeks rather than years. Brand names disappeared along with quality standards. The hooch being churned out was, for the most part, harsh and foul-tasting stuff, but the thirsty public was happy to oblige a little temporary blindness in order to enjoy a drink.
To make these dreadful bathtub gins drinkable, speakeasies began to mix them with sweet syrups, fruits, and bitters to mask the off flavors, and the era of the cocktail was born. After prohibition ended, cocktails stuck and a market of legitimate “mixing” spirits emerged. Designed with simple, intense flavors to cut through the sweetness, these liquors with their harsh alcohol presence weren’t a concern, as they weren’t being drunk straight.
Cocktail bars are now a regular fixture in the US, and when the craft beer scene boomed, these same locales wanted in on the action. Suddenly, all of the tweed-vested, mustachioed cocktail bartenders across the country came up with the idea to blend these new popular beers with their regular array of mixers.
Pretty soon there were lambic sangrias, barleywine creamsicles, and all sorts of other beery atrocities.
What the misguided bartenders don’t realize is that the beers they’re mixing are masterpieces in and of themselves. They don’t need additional sugars, alcohols, and fruit purees to be drinkable. A Beer Geek knows that the brewer designed and created them to stand on their own. If a beer needs all those additional ingredients, it’s not worth bothering with anyway.
While this attitude seems to wade dangerously toward the Beer Snob category, fear not, for it couldn’t be further from the truth. Beer Geeks avoid beer cocktails because the concept doesn’t show respect for the care, dedication, and passion breweries put into crafting their beer. Can you picture a wine connoisseur mixing a Cotes du Rhone with Orange Crush and melon liqueur? Or a cigar aficionado smoking a grape-flavored Cohiba Robustos? A Beer Geek holds himself to the same standard.
