By Amy Tindell

While there is no “official” definition of “craft beer,” the Brewers Association of Boulder, CO defines a “craft brewer” to determine eligibility for certain marketing and lobbying support within its membership. The challenge in creating such a definition, however, is that “craft” means different things to different people and to different businesses.

The non-profit trade group has roots in the U.S. going back to the 1940s, and has evolved to include and connect commercial brewers, homebrewers, distributors, suppliers, retailers, and individuals in the beer industry. Since 2005, the Brewers Association has stated that a craft brewer must be 1) small, 2) independent, and 3) traditional. While these terms have stuck, what they mean has been revised many times, most recently this past February 2014, with significant consequences for many brewers. The organization also revised its statement of purpose, mission and goals.

PURPOSE

Previous Definition
To promote and protect small and independent American brewers, their craft beers and the community of brewing enthusiasts.

2014 Definition
To promote and protect American craft brewers, their beers and the community of brewing enthusiasts.

The main change to the organization’s stated purpose was the removal of the term “craft beer,” because it is not defined by the Brewers Association, and the shift in focus to American “craft brewers,” which was redefined in the February 2014 meeting.

SMALL

Previous Definition
Annual production of 6 million bbls of beer or less. Beer production is attributed to a brewer according to the rules of alternating proprietorships. Flavored malt beverages are not considered beer for purposes of this definition.

2014 Definition
Annual production of 6 million barrels of beer or less (approximately 3 percent of U.S. annual sales). Beer production is attributed to the rules of alternating proprietorships.

The big news for the term “small” broke in 2010, when the Brewers Association increased the annual production cap from 2 million bbls to 6 million bbls per year. The Association made that change to accommodate one of its oldest members, Boston Brewing Company (a.k.a. Sam Adams), whose capacity was poised to surpass the 2 million bbl cap. Many smaller brewers, however, continue to protest the change because they believe that larger brewers should not be entitled to receive the same marketing, lobbying, and other support offered by the organization only to craft brewers. Accordingly, the parenthetical added this year is meant to put the rather large-sounding 6 million bbl cap into perspective, highlighting the small market share that the figure represents, at least compared to giants of the American beer industry such as MillerCoors and Anheuser-Busch. The other change this year was to remove the flavored malt beverage exclusion from the “small” category and add it to the “traditional” definition (see below), where it more logically belongs.

The statement about alternating proprietorships is not new this year, but remains important to breweries that share facilities. The Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau allows a host brewer and any tenants in a single licensed brewing facility to account separately for their own beer production, thus potentially remaining eligible for certain benefits including reduced tax rates accorded to only small production breweries.

INDEPENDENT

Previous Definition
Less than 25 percent of the craft brewery is owned or controlled (or equivalent economic interest) by a beverage alcohol industry member that is not itself a craft brewer.

2014 Definition
Less than 25 percent of the craft brewery is owned or controlled (or equivalent economic interest) by a beverage alcohol industry member that is not itself a craft brewer.

The description of “independent” as it relates to a brewer was not changed this year, but had been revised previously to align more consistently with terminology commonly used in the alcoholic beverage industry. Separately, the Brewers Association explains that craft brewer independence is important because craft brewers are better able to maintain integrity in what they brew when they are free from a “substantial interest by a non-craft brewer.” They highlight this idea, and a call for improved transparency in the brewing industry, in their craft vs. crafty statement.

However, when the ownership requirement was implemented in 2012, it excluded many former “craft brewers” overnight, including Goose Island, Magic Hat, Pyramid, Mendocino, Fordham, Old Dominion, Widmer, Coastal, Kona, and Redhook. For example, Kona, Widmer, and Redhook were no longer considered “craft” because they were part of the Craft Brew Alliance, approximately 1/3 owned by AnheuserBusch-InBev. These breweries stand in contrast to brands like Shock Top and Blue Moon, which were developed, brewed, marketed, and sold by Anheuser-Busch and Miller-Coors, respectively, since inception.

While certain breweries suddenly lost some support offered by the Brewers Association, it is questionable whether a craft beer drinker would feel obligated, under the Association’s rules, to suddenly avoid former craft beers like Kona’s highly rated Wailua Wheat; one commentator has likened it an indie music lover ceasing to buy The Black Keys albums after 2006, when they signed with Nonesuch Records, a subsidiary of Warner Bros. Either way, beer and music enthusiasts alike take interest in the origins of their pastimes, and as consumers, are left to make their own decisions regarding what is “good.”

TRADITIONAL

Previous Definition
A brewer who has either an all malt flagship (the beer which represents the greatest volume among that brewers brands) or has at least 50 percent of its volume in either all malt beers or in beers which use adjuncts to enhance rather than lighten flavor.

2014 Definition
A brewer that has a majority of its total beverage alcohol volume in beers whose flavor derives from traditional or innovative brewing ingredients and their fermentation. Flavored malt beverages (FMBs) are not considered beers.

This year’s revisions to the “traditional” prong of the craft brewer definition attracted the most attention and wrought the most significant consequences for brewers. The previous definition required a craft brewery to either produce an all-malt flagship beer, or to make at least half of its total product from only barley malt, and not other sugar sources like rice or corn. In 2014, however, the Association recognized adjunct brewing as craft brewing, perhaps because many brewers have traditionally brewed with what is locally available to them.

Some members argue that the change could compromise the quality of craft brewing, but others point out that the revised definition also encourages innovation and experimentation. The Brewers Association now maintains, “Craft beer is generally made with traditional ingredients like malted barley; interesting and sometimes non-traditional ingredients are often added for distinctiveness.” It further asserts, “The hallmark of craft beer and craft brewers is innovation… Craft brewers interpret historic styles with unique twists and develop new styles that have no precedent.”

The change to “traditional” now includes under the umbrella of craft brewers mid-size, older breweries including Yuengling, August Schell, and Narragansett, which brew with non-barley malt ingredients because those were the local ingredients available to them when they were founded in the 1800s. For example, Yuengling, America’s oldest brewery (founded in 1829), historically includes corn grits in addition to barley malts in its brew recipe. After 185 years, Yeungling will become an official craft brewer overnight.

As of this year, the Brewers Association takes on as its mission: “By 2020, America’s craft brewers will have more than 20 percent market share and will continue to be recognized as making the best beer in the world.” The Association continues to support “craft brewers” by developing and promoting access to raw materials, supporting research in brewing safety, sustainability, education and technology, providing legislative and regulatory support, educating consumers, and fostering a network of beer enthusiasts. It encourages craft brewers to be active in their communities through philanthropy and volunteerism, and to maintain their distinctive approaches to interactions with consumers. However, the Brewers Association has left to you, the beer enthusiast, the job of defining the elusive “craft beer.”

By Amy Tindell

You may have noticed the recent trend of craft brewers releasing their wares in cans, and summarily chalked it up to an attempt to appeal to all those Pabst Blue Ribbon-loving hipsters. In some cases, like that of Evil Twin’s Hipster Ale, or Churchkey – the beer not the bar – the trend’s target is quite blatant.

However, canning beer serves a different purpose that is based on science: it prevents beer from getting “skunked.” A beer is skunked, or “light-struck,” when natural light hits isohumolones, the chemical compounds that contribute to the bitter taste of hops in beer. A photochemical reaction causes the isohumolones to break down and combine with sulfur compounds in the beer, to create 3-methylbut-2-ene-1-thiol (3-MBT). The “thiol” at the end of that name reflects the presence of sulfur and serves as a warning of the offensive smell that it produces. 3-MBT is chemically very similar to isopentyl mercaptan, or skunk spray, and so potent that some individuals can detect it at concentrations of one-billionth of a gram in a 12-ounce beer. Thus, it does not take a lot to skunk a beer, and it can occur faster than Phosphorescent can tell you to Ride On in your skinny jeans and fedora hat.

Cans are one solution to preventing skunked beer, because they block light from reaching the beer. Cans have other practical advantages, including that they maintain a more airtight seal than bottles to protect against oxidation. Additionally, cans are more easily stackable, more light-weight, and won’t break on that bike ride home from the corner store. Canned beer even chills faster than bottled beer, so that it’s ready to pair with your kale, ramps and bacon tacos from that food truck down the street in no time.

Regardless of craft beer marketers’ strategy for a target audience, cans are practical and becoming more prevalent by the day. Indeed, the increasing popularity of craft beer cans may just be the kink in attempting to cater to this particular subculture, given the hipster taste for the culturally obscure. However, craft brewers experimenting with canning can still rejoice, because those of us who may be slightly behind the trends also like to take our time to appreciate a good beer, and wouldn’t want it to get skunked as we listen to way-too-mainstream bands like The Knife or Chvrches.

By Amy Tindell

I can only imagine my travel partner Lauren’s first thoughts when she received my email, 6 weeks prior to our departure date, setting out an unofficial beer guide for our trip to Peru. She may have thought that Peru is not exactly a prime destination for craft beer enthusiasts, that there were so many more worthy pursuits in that cradle of Incan culture, or that perhaps Peruvian breweries were not located in the safest part of town. However, her reply was simple: “As long as it’s not full of 20-somethings getting pissed, I’m happy.”

We discovered the priority that Peruvians place on beer as we crossed into their country from Bolivia. On the side of the road, dominating the very modern Peru logo sign that the Peru Exports and Tourism Promotion Commission paid dearly to develop, stands a concrete 3D Cusqueña beer can. The American adjunct lager from Cusco, with an Incan wall cut into its glass bottle, is indeed one of the country’s most popular beers, although Lauren and I found that we preferred the Cusqueña negra, a very smooth, slightly sweet, dark larger. Later, our tour guide Paul would laugh at our negra beer consumption, explaining, “That beer is for señoritas!” Given our North American association between dark beer and manliness, we had to laugh right back at him.

In Cusco, my A-student research paid off when we noticed some familiar names on the menu at Greens Organics. I was a bit under the weather, but Lauren stepped up to order a Sierra Andina Alpamayo Amber Ale. Located in Huaraz, Peru, the brewery fosters sustainability projects in its community, including supporting local organic farms with its spent grains and encouraging residents to ride bikes instead of driving cars. From my few tastes of Lauren’s beer, Sierra Andina’s amber was quite smooth, with strong flavors of malted barley balanced with a touch of hop spiciness. Playing it safe, I ordered a chicha morada, a low-to-non-alcoholic version of the famous Peruvian chicha, made with purple maize, pineapple, and spices. I had to agree when a smiling Paul later told me that chicha morada is “for señoritas!”

Our next find was at the local Vivanda supermarket in Miraflores, Lima. Although our original goal was to score a decent bottle of wine and dessert to take back to our B&B roofdeck, I got distracted by the beer aisle, where I recognized the Cerveceria Barbarian label. I snapped up the Chaski Porter and the Red Ale, at a cost of approximately $0.60 per bottle. Back on the roofdeck, I marveled at the Peruvian skill in crafting red ales. The Barbarian Red, the brewery’s first release, was another smooth, malty ale, brewed with caramelized malts and a four-hop blend that lent more to the beer’s aromatics than bitterness. Apparently not for señoritas, the Chaski Porter was named for the young male Incan runners who delivered messages and goods throughout the empire, with the thought that such a full, strong beverage would help maintain their incredible speeds. Barbarian’s porter tasted of roasted malts, coffee and chocolate, and its richness made it a perfect Miraflores rooftop dessert for this modern, much slower, señorita runner.

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The next night, as we played Mission Impossible trying to locate a restaurant that served both ceviche (me) and edible vegetarian options (Lauren), Lauren excitedly pointed across the street at Barranco Brewing Company, a label I’d sought unsuccessfully at the grocery store. We decided that dinner could wait, took seats at the bar, and surveyed the brewhouse behind the glass windows in front of us. I ordered a 50/Fifti lager and Lauren ordered the Bulls Ay! Ale. Both were distinctly German in style and taste, and low on carbonation. The lager of course was a lighter beer, while the Bulls Ay! poured a tad darker and presented with a slightly fuller body. Behind us, a few more patrons filtered in to the restaurant space that was decorated much like a modern North American brew- and gastropub, but with a more industrial feel, as many of the furnishings were made from recycled beer-making machine parts.

Satisfied with our sampling, we walked out into the Lima night. A whole new world of chicha cocktails awaited us, and apparently, those are not just “for señoritas.”

By Amy Tindell

A group of Venture Café bartenders made the pilgrimage to Bentley Brewing Company as part of our “adventure day” in Worcester, Massachusetts. With food coma setting in after devouring 4 pizzas at Volturno Pizza, but our beer appetites whetted at Armsby Abby, Shahin pointed the car southwest towards Southbridge, Massachusetts.

We found Bentley housed in an historic building in downtown Southbridge, sharing space with the Dark Horse Tavern. Bentley Brewing Company sits at the back of the building, with an outdoor patio facing the Quinebaug River. The tasting room is complete with booths, a small bar for tasting and filling growlers, and a pool table.

Brewers Adam Golka and Mike Lynch stood in the tasting room with the owner of the Dark House Tavern and his very large, very friendly dog. Adam and Mike offered us tastes of their full slate of current offerings as they told us about their journey to opening the brewery. Both brewers with day jobs, they founded the brewery with a focus on providing excellent craft beer to their local community. They have plans for slow expansion, with a booth at the upcoming American Craft Beer Fest in Boston, and releasing 22 ounce bottles to select Massachusetts retailers. On a day-to-day basis, they focus on growler sales and experimenting with their 10 barrel system to perfect new beer styles.

Always the IPA-doubter, I was suspicious of their first pour of the Bentley IPA, despite their reassurances that it was not too hoppy. I should have trusted them, as their IPA was smooth and slightly sweet, balanced with light hop bitterness, and felt pleasingly refreshing going down. Adam and Mike explained that they achieve this balanced effect with a combination of Cascade, Chinook, Columbus, Nugget, and Apollo hops. Bentley’s S.O.B. (Southbridge Ordinary Bitter), a traditional English ale, was even easier to drink, incorporating British Maris Otter malt with Sterling hops. Continuing our journey to the maltier side of brewing, Man Skirt exemplified how delicious a good Scottish ale can be; the sweeter caramel flavors mixed with the bready malty flavors, creating a smooth, clean finish.

Our final taste was Black Eye, a dry imperial Irish stout. Light in mouthfeel but substantial and complex in taste, Black Eye is one of the most drinkable imperial stouts I’ve tried. It started out sweet in the mouth, until the roast, coffee and chocolate flavors became more apparent, and then finished with slightly sour and metal notes, tempered by an ethanol aftertaste. I bought a growler.

In fact, we all bought growlers. However, we couldn’t agree on a favorite. Robin liked the S.O.B., Shahin the IPA, and I the Black Eye. Perhaps our varied tastes explain how our beer offerings across 4 taps often manage to represent the full spectrum of beer styles. Nonetheless, we did agree that we would see Adam and Mike again. Is there any other way we can keep our growlers at least half full?

By Amy Tindell

Quick: I’m in Portland, Oregon, with exactly one hour to find amazing beer before I meet up with my friend (who will then guide me to more amazing beer and other Portland delights). Crowd-sourcing directs me to Bailey’s Taproom. Conveniently, I happen to be 3 blocks away. I walk (through the rain, of course, since I’m in Oregon), and am the second patron to sit at the bar and peer up at the very detailed beer menu. It is, after all, 2 pm on a Sunday.

Bailey’s features 24 rotating taps, along with about 100 bottled beers, with focus on Oregon and West Coast breweries. The centerpiece of the Taproom is the DigitalPour menu. DigitalPour, also located in Portland, provides a “real-time beer dashboard” that patrons can inspect for information about which beers are on tap and what they can expect from each beer. It shows information about the beer name, style, brewery location, alcohol content and bitterness (in IBUs). Patrons can get also an idea of the color the beer will be, what type and size glassware it will be served in, and its price. Further, interested enthusiasts can prioritize their consumption by noting whether a keg has just been tapped, how much beer remains in the keg, and what beer might be tapped next. For those real attention-seekers, DigitalPour even allows for social media integration.

DigitalPour also offers helpful interactive analytic reports to its clients that reflect how each beer performs in terms of how long the beer remains on tap, its average income, and its average profits over time tapped. In this way, bar managers can understand which beers sell best and how each type of beer contributes to their overall profits.
With the help of DigitalPour and the friendly bartender, I select a flight of Oregon (+ 1 Alaskan) beers, from Laurelwood (Portland), Base Camp (Portland), Flat Tail (Corvallis), Burnside (Portland), Awesome Ales (Silverton), and Alaskan (Juneau) breweries.

A sucker for a good Alt, I start with an imperial one: Base Camp’s Ctrl Alt Delete, which pours a hazy copper color with a malty, grassy nose. A true Alt, the flavor hits the tongue as quite malty and grainy, with notes of caramel and a bitter finish. The bartender tells me that Base Camp follows a complex fermentation process, first applying its house ale yeast strain to create fruity flavors, and then its house lager yeast strain to generate that clean, smooth finish. I also enjoy Awesome Ales’ Red House, an India Red Ale. Coppery-amber in color, the beer smells somewhat like an orange scone – citrusy and biscuity, with some floral hop notes. As expected, the beer tastes sweet, citrusy, and malty, with some creaminess in the slightly bitter finish. Perhaps unexpected, however, is the taste of Burnside’s Spring Rye,. The nutty flavors created by the rye partner surprisingly well with the spicy fruitiness of the Ultra hops and coriander, all of which taper off into an herbal aftertaste.

With each beer sampled but not completely consumed, it is time for me to surrender to the flight. I have exactly 15 minutes to meet my friend, with a planned stop at Powell’s Books on the way. I don’t know it yet, but our (eventual) destination will be Apizza Scholls, described by locals as the “Pizza Nazi,” which will earn a coveted spot on my beer tourism map. After a very full day, it’s just too bad that neither of us will drink quite enough beer to forget about that naughty midnight visit to Portland’s Voodoo Doughnut.

By Amy Tindell

After dropping off (Great) Aunt Arlene in time for her 5:30pm dinner, my cousin (once removed) Kelly and I decided to squeeze in a visit to 7 Devils Brewing Company before heading back to my grandmother’s house. Both intrigued by the presence of a craft brewery in Coos Bay, Oregon, we were excited to have the opportunity to poke our heads in for a look around.

Named for a state park and recreation area along the coast, 7 Devils Brewing Company specializes in “northwest ales from the southern Oregon coast.” Its co-founders, a husband-and-wife team, share a strong commitment to the restoration and maintenance of crucial environmental and human ecosystems, both locally and abroad. Annie Pollard attended the University of Oregon, studying ecological rehabilitation and conservation, writing her Master’s thesis on marine bird nesting ecology. In her free time, Annie organizes the local Surfrider Foundation chapter and creates art across a variety of media. Carmen Mathews, co-founder, co-brewer, and Annie’s husband, got his start in the beverage industry with Dutch Bros. Coffee and home-brewed for ten years prior to opening 7 Devils. Carmen maintains active involvement in the local community through the Oregon Coast Music Association, Surfrider, and the Coos Bay Parks Commission. They opened the brewery to create a space where “local artists, craftsmen, and entrepreneurs can mingle to create and share sustainable business goals that reflect and celebrate local culture.”

As soon as we walked through the doors, Kelly, who grew up in North Bend/Coos Bay, but currently lives in the Portland area, met someone he knew from childhood. Charmed by the small town encounter, I surveyed the public house, admiring the chalkboard on the right with food and beer menus, the bar on the left facing the taps, and past the bar, through a glass-paned garage-like door, the brewhouse with its high ceilings and shiny tanks.

The bartender explained to us that 7 Devils’ beer is 100% American made, with most ingredients coming from the Pacific Northwest. To gain a full understanding of this local flavor, Kelly and I ordered a flight to share, and since there was not an unoccupied seat in the house, carried it carefully outside to the patio. Neither of us huge hops fans, we found the Advocate pale ale and the Trillium seasonal IPA quite drinkable and balanced. The Advocate featured citrus, floral, and straw flavors, with a mild sweet beginning and slight bitter bite at the finish. Trillium tasted more of pine, with bitter notes throughout, and a slightly sweet ethanol finish.

Our favorites were the Blacklock oat porter and the Arago amber. The porter seemed light for the category, but the signature flavors of roast, malt and coffee came through admirably. Arago poured surprisingly smoothly, first imparting caramel malt flavors, then balancing those sweeter flavors with just the right amount of hop bitterness.

The clear winner selected, we returned to the bar to find two empty seats from which to order our full pints of Arago amber, and to listen to the musician who had materialized on the brewhouse floor in our absence. Across the public house, patrons chatted, tapped their feet to the music, and enjoyed tapas-style plates of poutine, oyster po boys, and honey and cheese sandwiches.

As we finished our pints, we debated whether we should bring back wine or beer to my grandmother’s house. Because Oregon boasts a wealth of excellent options for both beverages, we elected to procure samples of each. Of course, Kelly, the local boy, knew just where in town to find them.

By Amy Tindell

I admit that it was with not a small amount of trepidation that I suggested a 45 minute drive north to Stone Brewery for dinner after a long day of contentious deposition taking. I experienced slightly more trepidation in pointing out further that if we somehow negotiated CA traffic for a 6pm arrival, we could even participate in the last brewery tour of the day. Luckily, my boss – a seasoned, highly-respected senior patent litigation partner at my firm, and longtime wine connoisseur – found my description of the Stone Brewery World Bistro and Gardens sufficiently intriguing to attempt the trip.

Once safely underway in the car, I explained to him that this was not just some random trip to a no-name brewery, but what some beer enthusiasts would consider a pilgrimage, to one of the largest, most famous, and most successful craft breweries. Stone, launched in 1996, is the brainchild of Greg Koch and Steve Wagner, who met at a UC Davis Extension course about beer. Together, the two have cultivated their “slow food” philosophy and aversion to “fizzy yellow beer” to create an empire encompassing the brewery, 2 World Bistro restaurants complete with patios and gardens, and the farm that supplies raw materials to the entire operation. Along with the architecture of its brewery and the organic gardens surrounding it, Stone is best known for its high hop-and alcohol-content beers, particularly its Arrogant Bastard Ale, which has an advertising campaign that revolves around the slogan “You’re Not Worthy”. (Click through to the link; it’s worthy.)

My boss and I miraculously arrived in time for the 6pm tour (not to mention a pint of Pliny the Elder on draft), but were forced to apply our exemplary advocacy skills to convince the staff to allow us to partake, since said tour was already full. I’ve learned that very few people, least of all California beer brewers, desire to listen to the pleas of impassioned Boston patent litigators.

The tour guide shuttled her thirsty bunch through the double doors to a large room filled with glistening brewing equipment, and proceeded to explain, quite accurately, the process of brewing beer, and Stone’s particular philosophy on the art. I watched with pride as my boss, the wine aficionado, enthusiastically raised his hand when the guide asked first-time brewery visitors to identify themselves, and proceeded to ask insightful questions along the tour.

Following the tour, we tasted the sample selections for the day, including the IPA, the Levitation amber ale, the special release Old Guardian and, of course, the Arrogant Bastard Ale. While Arrogant Bastard, with its smooth caramel, malty, dark fruit character, holds its place as a favorite, I was impressed with the Old Guardian. This was my first taste of the barleywine, and it was not too sweet and pleasingly dry, with a dried fruit spiciness to the taste. But, just as in patent litigation, we had to conquer quickly and move on to the next challenge, because our dinner reservation was closing in on us.

The hostess seated us on the patio, a delightful setting to two Bostonians growing weary of an especially harsh winter. By now darkness had fallen and the patio was lit with stringed lights and scattered fire pits. The gardens surrounded the patio tables, complete with miniature waterfalls and rocky ponds, and an army of frogs piped up in full song to greet us. I explored Stone’s menu, wondering where else I could find tikka marsala, a chicken and wild boar sandwich, homemade kimchi, brisket, schnitzel, and yakisoba on the same menu, particularly with ingredients sourced from a local organic farm and accompanied by suggested beer pairings. Feeling quite at home, we exchanged notes on beer and wine culture, and of course, plotted our strategy to win our case. Accustomed to the scurvy-inducing New England cold, we found that the fresh ingredients made a delectable difference in our meals, and enjoyed one last beer as we finished our feasts.

Fully satiated, I took a quick tour of the gardens even though it was dark. Stringed lights illuminated paths to inviting groups of wooden chairs, and the sounds of burgling water and frogs continued to fill the night. I briefly imagined moving to San Diego and regularly spending calm, reflective nights drinking beer in the gardens at Stone.

But then my phone buzzed, announcing the arrival of the rough draft of the day’s deposition transcript in my inbox, which I dutifully forwarded to my boss, who was inspecting a miniature bamboo forest near the patio. Alas, it was time to leave Stone Brewery to return to my professional duties. However, I will admit that it was gratifying (and humbling) to be able to share my alleged expertise with my boss, given all that he’s taught me. It only reinforces the hypothesis that beer plays a crucial – and worthy – role in supporting civilization, modern and historical. Fortunately, it doesn’t show any signs of abdicating that role, particularly when civilization continues to associate beer with this:

By Amy Tindell

It shouldn’t have, but it took a drawn out and excessively complicated Doodle poll for the Venture Café bartenders to schedule a session at Hopsters Brew and Boards. No longer content just to serve beer, we met in Newton on a snowy Tuesday night in February to brew our own.
But first things first: our day jobs had really taken their toll, so we indulged in some much-needed craft malt beverages and locally sourced sustenance before taking on more hard work. Hopsters boasts a series of taps dedicated to New England beers (alas, licensing restrictions prohibit them from serving beer brewed on the premises), in addition to a menu featuring cheese, charcuterie, flatbreads, and sandwiches, all incorporating local ingredients from New England Charcuterie in Waltham and Wood Family Farm in Dudley.

Bellies and brains happy, we headed over to the kettles and supply room, stocked with local organic raw materials, to begin the task of brewing. Hopsters provides each brewing team with a staff expert to direct activities and answer questions along the way. Our expert, Hugh, prepared two kettles for our chosen recipes: one for a Rye IPA and another for a Wee Heavy Scottish Ale.

First, we weighed the specialty grains, dutifully measuring 4 ounces of smoked malt, 2 pounds of crystal/caramel malt, and 4 ounces of roasted barley for the Wee Heavy, and one pound of caramel/crystal malt for the Rye IPA. The women of the group stepped up to apply some elbow grease to mill the grain bill for each recipe, increasing the surface area of the grain to make the starch more accessible and to separate the seed from the husk.

Once milled, the two separate grain bills were poured into muslin bags and placed into the boiling kettles – much like tea – to create the mash.

While the mash boiled for 15 minutes at around 155 degrees Fahrenheit, we measured the liquid malts in the supply room. The Wee Heavy required a whopping 15 pounds of amber malt, which poured lazily, resembling very thick molasses, from large plastic carboys in the supply room. The Rye IPA took a mere 10 pounds of pale malt extract and 5 pounds of rye malt. A brewer can buy liquid malts readily at any supply store, but more ambitious brewers make their own malts through a somewhat painstaking – but they say rewarding – process.

After removing the muslin bags with the grain bills, it took two of us for each kettle to add the liquid malts: one to pour and scrape the malt from its container, and another to stir the mash to ensure that the malt dissolved properly. Hugh advised us to go “not too fast, and not too slow” when incorporating the liquid malts.

While we waited for our kettles to boil again, we measured hops for each recipe. Hops can be bittering – providing the bitter flavor of the beer – or aromatic or finishing – providing that signature citrus, flower or pine aroma of the beer. Brewers typically add bittering hops midway through the boil, and aromatic hops toward the end of the boil. The Venture Café team measured only 2 ounces of Golding bittering hops for the Wee Heavy, but the more hop-heavy Rye IPA required 1.5 ounces of Centennial and 2 ounces of Simcoe bittering hops, along with 2 ounces of Amarillo Gold aromatic hops.

After approximately 30 minutes of boiling the mash, the liquid malts, and the bittering hops (45 minutes total boiling), we added the Amarillo Gold aromatic hops to the Rye IPA, and 1.5 tablespoons of Irish moss to each kettle. Irish moss is a fining agent derived from seaweed that acts as a clarifying agent (i.e., it helps brewers avoid producing cloudy beer). Specifically, it assembles small molecules into larger particles that settle out of solution. In beer, Irish moss helps yeast flocculate (clump together) more effectively and encourages proteins and lipids to settle out with the yeast.

As the boil continued, we activated the Wyeast yeast packages by slapping them, hard. This releases an inner package of nutrients and wort that “wakes up” the dormant yeast in the outer foil package, jump starting the culture’s metabolism and reducing lag time in fermenting the waiting wort. When it’s ready to pitch, the package becomes swollen with by-products – carbon dioxide – of these initial metabolic processes.

After 15 minutes of continuing the boil with the Irish moss and aromatic hops (approximately 1 hour total), it was time to transfer the wort into its storage container for the fermentation process. Hugh drained the wort from the kettle through specialized piping and a heat exchanger to cool it to a temperature favorable (and not deadly) to the yeast. We pitched Scottish yeast into the container for the Wee Heavy and American Ale yeast into the Rye IPA container.

While our hard work was complete, the yeast had just begun their task of feasting happily on the abundant sugars in the wort. This fermentation process produces the alcohol in beer as well as many of the flavors and aromas, which are byproducts of fermentation. Additionally, Hopsters would continue our work, sending our spent grains from the brewing process to Wood Family farm to feed their pigs. As for us, we relaxed into one final local beer to rehash our brewing experience, before stepping outside into the new-fallen snow for our journey home.

By Amy Tindell

As a fan of darker beers, I was shocked that I did not actually know the difference between a stout and a porter. Fortunately, it was simple to rectify this gap in expertise, and in the end, I found that my ignorance was completely excusable.

Most historians seem to agree that beers labeled as porters first appeared on the London scene in the 18th century. One popular tale of porter’s origin maintains that brewers and servers tired of tapping three separate kegs for the current beer styles: beer (brewed with hops), ale (brewed without hops), and twopenny (the strongest beer). As a solution, they created a brew called “three threads” by blending those styles into one full-service cask. Another account reflects the origin of porter as the “Entire” or “Entire Butt,” where the first, second and third (weakest to strongest) mashes from the same malt were mixed and fermented together to create one beer, rather than the traditional technique of fermenting them separately to produce three different strength beers. Whatever the origin of the beer, its name seems to have derived from the occupations of London’s laborers who came to prefer it over other styles.

Once brewers began to produce porter on an industrial scale, they began to vary its strength, labeling the stronger and full-bodied versions as “stout porters.” Stout as a distinct style was born when brewers and consumers eventually dropped “porter” from the end of the description.

Today, the difference between porters and stouts is fuzzy, and the designation is the prerogative of the brewer. However, there are some rough guidelines for categorizing the two styles. Stouts tend to be darker, stronger, and use less water than porters. They are characterized by a grist that is 80-90% pale malts and 10% roasted barley, which lends an espresso or coffee aroma and flavor. Porters, on the other hand, tend to be lighter, sweeter, and hoppier. They are known for using crystal, black, and chocolate malts, which add a mocha aroma and flavor.

The stout-porter boundary becomes even fuzzier when you discover the spectrum of brews available within each style. Stouts are available with the labels “dry” (strong roasted coffee aroma and pronounced bitterness), “sweet” (brewed with lactose to sweeten the beer), “export” (brewed to a higher strength), “oatmeal” (smoothed by the incorporation of oatmeal), and “Russian imperial” (brewed to higher ABV with more hops). Porters, not to be outdone, are available with the designations “London” (the classic, sweeter version), “American” (hoppier), and Baltic (stronger and sweeter).

Of course, the only way to truly understand these categories is to compare them side by side. While blurred lines separate the porter from the stout, the only inexcusable action would be to consider myself an enthusiast without doing just that.

By Amy Tindell

It turned out that we were a bit over-enthusiastic and showed up at Aztec Brewing Company about half an hour before it opened. As we turned away from the locked doors, a friendly face smiled through the glass and welcomed us to the tasting room. We thanked the friendly face profusely, then took the stools down from our pick of the high-top tables, and enjoyed the breeze coming in through opened back doors.

The original Aztec Brewery was founded in Mexico while the US was suffering through Prohibition. Once those North Americans came to their senses, the brewery set up shop in San Diego. About 30 years later, the brand went on hiatus after it was purchased by a Midwestern competitor, until it was re-discovered by John Webster in 2008. Using the Aztec name, Webster and his partners Claudia Faulk and Rob Esposito opened a small brewery and tap room in 2010, and by 2012 enjoyed sufficient success to expand to a 15 barrel brewing system.

Sitting in our stools as their most enthusiastic customers, we ordered a flight with beers spanning Aztec’s broad spectrum of styles. Starting with the darkest beer, Aztec brews the Cacao Chocolate as a classic porter, but then ages it on cacao nibs, which adds to its creaminess and balances the bitterness from the hops with semisweet chocolate flavors. The Aztec Amber, an altbier, poured a clear dark amber and smelled of malts and fruits. The taste was similar, with notes of biscuit, toffee and caramel, with a bitter finish. The altbier won medals in 2012 and 2013 at the San Diego Beer Festival.

After our first tastes, the friendly face came to our table with complimentary glasses of two new beers, the Hibiscus Wheat and the Simarillo IPA. None of us being particular fans of Hefeweizens, we were all surprised by how delicious the Hibiscus Wheat tasted. Inspired by a Mexican hibiscus tea, Aztec incorporates hibiscus petals, ginger and allspice into the brew, giving it a spicy character with floral notes and citrus fruit flavors. It feels crisp in the mouth and finishes with more hibiscus flavors. The Simarillo IPA, featuring Simcoe and Amarillo hops, offered a malty backbone supporting citrus hop bitterness. The beer was light and refreshing at 6.2% ABV.

Although reluctant to give up our monopoly over the Aztec tasting room, we decided to explore a similarly-themed brewery in the same Vista, CA business park called Indian Joe Brewing. Indian Joe Brewing was inspired by owner Max Moran’s Great Uncle Joe, a Luiseño Indian from North San Diego County. Following family traditions, Great Uncle Joe learned to brew outstanding beers in the early 1900s, diligently crafting his recipes using natural ingredients, including some with medicinal properties, that he collected from the local landscape. Moran’s father continued the tradition by introducing him to local brewing techniques, eventually motivating him to ride the wave of the popularity of nearby breweries like Stone and Ballast Point to carve our his own success. In 2012, Moran opened the brewery and tasting room.

The tasting room features a delightfully kitschy saloon set within the warehouse of the brewery, complete with fire pit and stringed lights. Moran himself was active behind the bar and amongst the tables, greeting regulars and chatting about his beers. We examined the long and intriguing list of approximately 25 beers currently on tap to fill in our flight request form.

We all agreed that the standouts were the Chocolate Hazelnut Porter, the American Indian Red Ale, the American Indian Pale Ale, and the Blueberry Hefeweizen. The Chocolate Hazelnut Porter turned out to be quite aptly named, styled as a robust porter with creamy chocolate and hazelnut flavors, full-bodied and smooth in mouthfeel. Indian Joe offers to top it with whip cream, but we declined: the taste was too good to mask. If you’re into malty reds, then the American Indian Red Ale was brewed for you, featuring caramel malts, roasted nutty flavors, and a sweet, smooth finish. The American Indian Red is definitely the best red I’ve tasted in awhile.

On the fruitier side, the Native California IPA weighs in at 9.1 ABV, but I noticed the alcohol only to the extent that it balanced the bitterness of the hops. Indian Joe brews this IPA with elderberries, adding a delicious fruity and slightly sour flavor to the traditional high ABV IPA. The Blueberry Hefeweizen, at 7.2 ABV, featured real pieces of blueberry and a slightly purplish tint peering through the glass. The brew offered sweet blueberry flavors, complimented by wheat and malt notes, finishing with a tart sourness. This Blueberry beer is unique in the strength of the blueberry flavoring and resulting tartness, so definitely worth a try if you find yourself in Vista.

We realized quickly that with 25 beers on tap, we couldn’t be too ambitious, especially since we were in California where everyone drives everywhere! Even though there remained some serious outdoor exploring and eating to check off our list, we still stopped to admire the very large and flashy motorcycle on the way out the door.