musing

Time for an American beer museum

Nice call to action by historian Maureen Ogle, author of Ambitious Brew: The Story of American Beer, in support of a national museum of brewing.

We’re not simply talking about a place with some nifty breweriana on display, but a real museum. Ogle reports the Brewery Collectibles Club of America has taken the first steps to make this happen in St. Louis.

Ogle – after the Great American Beer Festival I hope to have lots from her about Ambitious Brew – points out that now is the time to start preserving the history of small breweries that emerged in the last 25 or so years. Remember what Don Younger, proprietor of the venerable Horse Brass Pub in Portland, Ore., said: “”We didn’t know we were making history, nobody does at the time, or we would have written these things down.”

Two suggestions for making it a success:

Kulmbach Museum– Check out a few museums in Bavaria, where it seems every other town has some sort of beer library. They all have room after room of artifacts, but the best bring those to life.

In Kulmbach, for instance, you get a real sense of what it was like to be a brewery worker in the early 20th century (not an easy life at all). Bayerisches Brauereimuseum is located in the former Mönchsof Brewery and as well as showing you more glassware than you can imagine a tour includes the old brewing and engine rooms.

Beyond lots of old equipment you want to take home there’s a glass – well, not totally glass – brewhouse (left) so tourists can appreciate just how the brewing process works.

In the heart of Halltertau, the largest hops growing region in the world, a full tour of the German Museum of Hops (Deutsches Hopfenmuseum) covering 11,000 square feet takes 90 minutes. An American museum would likely end up being larger than the one in Wolnzach (pictured below), but hopefully would show the same attention to detail.

Hop Museum

– Make it American, 21st century, interactive, fun. This suggestion may seem strange, but the Indiana High School Basketball Hall of Fame is an example is exactly what you’d expect of Indiana basketball. You can make a last-second basket to win the state championship. You can sit in on a John Wooden pep talk.

Anheuser-Busch, Miller, Ballantine, Schlitz and associates deserve a spot in any American brewing museum, but so do Jolly Pumpkin, Baderbrau (RIP) and Berkshire Brewing.

The BCCA has a great idea, worthy – as Ogle points out – of all our support. Various projects emerge from time to time – some are going now – but let’s hope this one catches hold before more history is lost.

Uncle Tupelo rates beer

Spotted on a wall in the brewhouse at St. Louis Brewery’s Bottleworks: “Uncle Tupelo rates the beers.”

Obviously dated since Uncle Tupelo – born just a few miles away, and across the Mississippi River, in Belleville, Ill. – broke up in 1994. But still fun, and it didn’t hurt that The Band was belting out “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” on the brewhouse stereo while I scribbled some notes.

Budweiser – Statement on how f–ked up the world is. Should not be the most popular beer in the world. Just proves that sexism in advertising gets you anywhere.

Miller – Good, but we shouldn’t admit drinking it – look what happened to the Long Ryders and The Del Fuegos.

Black Label – Rare delicacy, hard to find.

Michelob Dry – Wet, good for breakfast.

Heineken – All the best things in life smell bad.

Bass Ale – Good fish. Good beer.

Red, White & Blue – Role model, cheap date, highest recommendation.

Old Milwaukee – Only beer that hangs out in the refrigerator for longer than a week, last resort.

Pabst – Old man beer, check back in 30 years.

Schlitz – Functional beer.

Old Style – Probably why all the bands in Chicago suck (just kidding).

Strohs – Forgettable.

Corona – Too many requirements. Evil stigma.

Fosters – Love it on payday, love those sulfites.

Olympia – Grunts, groans, flashbacks, etc. Never referred to by full name.

Coors – Mussolini’s choice. Heavy metal beer.

Stag – Hometown beer, goes good with adolescence, rest in peace.

EKU 28 – Most potent beer in the world, good ice cream topping.

Maybe the group should reunite just to put together an updated list.

Blue Moon labeling revisited

The things you come across when looking for something else . . .

In this case a “diary entry” from 1996, when we were doing a little field research for Beer Travelers projects:

Ephrata, Pa., April 19
The walls of Wahtney’s Inn are fieldstones, and some of the floor and ceiling are from when an inn was first built here in 1767. Meanwhile, there’s a computer terminal in the middle of the bar so patrons can cruise the Internet. It’s new and not working today. The bar has Blue Moon beer on tap, and after the bartender draws a pint for a customer, we ask her if she knows which brewery produces the beer. She’s stunned to find out this is a Coors product; because of political reasons, she doesn’t drink Coors. “Thank goodness I’ve only had a small taste,” she says, thanking us for the information. Next time somebody tells you that truth in labeling doesn’t make a difference, remember her.

Blue Moon has done pretty well the last 10 years based on what’s inside the bottle. Although Coors doesn’t heap advertising dollars on Blue Moon, it sold 200,000 barrels of the brand in 2005. Among craft brands, only Sam Adams Boston Lager, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and New Belgium Fat Tire were more popular.

It’s what’s outside the bottle that is troubling. As carefully as you look at a Blue Moon bottle, 6-pack holder or 12-pack box you won’t find information that Coors brews the beer.

Back in 2000, Coors agreed to change the labels on cans and bottles of Blue Moon to settle a lawsuit filed by Belgian brewers. The lawsuit, filed by the Confederation of Belgian Breweries November 1999, alleged the packaging on Coors’ Belgian-style beer led drinkers to believe it was brewed in Belgium.

So now they made it clear that Blue Moon is brewed in the the United States (the label would lead you to believe Denver), but not who the brewer is.

Shouldn’t they do that?

25 beers you wouldn’t kick out of the fridge

Another list. This one from Men’s Journal.

It’s received plenty of attention on beer discussion boards – see Rate Beer discussion; Beer Advocate – because notice in such a high profile publication always seems like validation.

It helps that it is a list of very good beers:

1 Firestone Walker Pale Ale
2 Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA
3 Stoudt’s Pils
4 Russian River Temptation
5 Avery Mephistopheles
6 Anderson Valley Boont Amber
7 Great Lakes Holy Moses White Ale
8 Full Sail Session Lager
9 Rogue Brutal Bitter
10 Bell’s Expedition Stout
11 Southampton Double White
12 Smuttynose Big A IPA
13 Penn Weizen
14 Great Lakes Burning River Pale Ale
15 Ommegang Hennepin
16 Samuel Adams Black Lager
17 Sprecher Hefe-Weiss
18 Alaskan Amber
19 Deschutes Broken Top Bock
20 Lost Abbey Avant Garde
21 Jolly Pumpkin Bam Bier
22 Victory St. Victorious Doppelbock
23 Allagash Interlude
24 Alesmith Speedway Stout
25 New Glarus Yokel

I like that it gives extra credit for striking a balance between innovation and tradition.

I like that they made Firestone Walker Pale Ale their No. 1, even if I might prefer the Double Barrel Ale, because the brewery wins medals right and left in blind tastings but can’t seem to get any love from online beer activists.

I like that it is cutting edge – with the funky little (4.6% abv) Bam Biere from the funky little Jolly Pumpkin brewery sneaking in at No. 21. And you can’t be much more up-to-date than Lost Abbey Avant Garde from Port Brewing (a beer that deserves a post of its own – in the next few days).

What I don’t like is the promo on the cover – “25 Greatest American Beers” – or the headline on the story – “25 Best Beers in America.”

What a silly notion. You need only compare the list Men’s Journal published in 2004 to the 2006 list (in 2005 the magazine picked the “Best 50” beers in the world, equally silly).

Only one beer – Alaskan Amber – made the 2004 and 2006 lists. Did everybody else forget how to brew?

No, 12 of the 23 breweries that were on the 2004 list (two breweries had two beers) also made the 2006 list. But instead of calling Deschutes Mirror Pond Ale No. 1, as in 2004, the authors listed Deschutes Broken Top Bock at No. 19.

Instead of honoring Victory Brewing’s Prima Pils – No. 2 in the U.S. in 2004, No. 1 pilsner in the world in 2006 – they singled out Victory St. Victorious Doppelbock (No. 22).

You can’t sell magazines publishing the same list every year. Of course, that’s not altogether bad for the breweries on the list, because it gives them more accolades to promote (one more thing I like about the list).

Still … 25 Greatest?

No. What they really published is a list of “24 really good beers we didn’t write about two years ago and Alaskan Amber.” A job well done, but a lousy headline.

A beer menu that gets it

Anything less than a Singha now would be making Martha Graham do the Hokey Pokey. – From the beer menu at Baan Sawan Thai Bistro in Columbia, S.C.

The State in South Carolina found this beer menu quirky enough to write a story about, and discovered an interesting 27-year-old behind it.

When Sam Suaudom Jr. wrote descriptions the first time around he stuck to more technical descriptions and efforts to describe flavor in conventional ways. Version 5.0 is quite different. Suaudom told State:

“It just seemed like they were asking specifically what was written in there. Well, I should just write what I want.”

So Suaudom, who graduated from the University of South Carolina’s School of Journalism and Mass Communications, went off the deep end with descriptors, employing a pattern of florid, first-person accounts of romantic settings punctuated by a witty twist.

Granted, some of the descriptions have nothing to do with flavor, but Suaudom said beer and wine sales increased from 12 percent to 25 percent of Baan Sawanâ’s total sales since he began making the special menus.

A couple of examples:

Budweiser and Bud Light
Mr. Randall Oxley popped open his Bud and waxed rhapsodic on his current romantic imbroglio. His descriptions were urbane yet ribald and as his companion chortled good naturedly he opened his own beverage. The sound of his Bud Light answered that of the Bud. ‘What should I do?’ Oxley asked. ‘Oh, my good man,’ responded Lord Ottombottom, ‘What shouldn’t you do?’

Baltika #6 Porter
Her eyes cut into me as she poured her #6. It was as dark as her hair and her heart and she eased a finger up the side of the glass to catch an errant drip of froth that had spilled over. I looked away as she licked her finger clean. I drank my own #6 and tried to lose myself in its coffee and chocolate bitterness but my own bitterness was distracting. I hate her so much. But don’t tell her I said that.

Suaudom said a man told him he blushed when reading the description of Baltika. Suaudom didn’t say if he ordered the beer.