Session #102: Why my liver fears the beer landscape

The SessionWe are on holiday, but Allen Huerta’s topic for The Session #102 — The Landscape of Beer — seemed too inviting to pass on. So through the magic of WordPress I left this behind. Visit Active Brewer for more posts on the topic.

Start with these basics:

– We live in St. Louis, a town pretty closely associated with the world’s largest brewing company, in a working class neighborhood called Dogtown, about a mile south of Forest Park, site of the 1904 World’s Fair. There are four breweries within three miles of our front door, a pub with roots that go back to the ’40s that has more than a hundred beers on tap, neighborhood joints known for their burgers or fried chicken that serve Missouri beers brewed in human-size tanks, and one of the rare Zwanze Day 2015 hosts (Side Project Cellar).

– Last week a story at MarketWatch headlined “These 11 brewers make over 90% of all U.S. beer” began with this premise “When you look at the beer aisle and your local taproom’s beer list, it looks like a broad array of choices. As we’re going to illustrate here, however, the following companies are actually narrowing those choices through acquisitions and diversification.”

So which direction are we headed and why?

Every time the Brewers Association releases an update on how many breweries around the country are now selling beer they mention this is the most since … well, pretty soon it will be forever. But it should make you wonder how the United States went from more than 3,000 breweries to less than 100. And if it could happen again.

Those who think Prohibition was totally to blame need to read “Ambitious Brew: The Story of American Beer.” Although overall beer production increased from 6.6 million barrels in 1870 to 59.8 million in 1915 the number of breweries nonetheless shrunk to fewer than 1,400. Martin Stack examined the reasons why in “Liquid bread: an examination of the American brewing industry, 1865 to 1940” published in Brewery History. He concluded that consumers were the driving force behind changes in the industry, writing:

“The rising industry concentration was a direct result of the productive efficiencies that favored the few nationally oriented breweries. These shipping breweries represented the industry’s response to increased consumer demand. A series of advances allowed them to increase their annual production levels; smaller breweries continued to operate only by virtue of their distance from them. As transportation costs fell, the shipper expanded their distribution networks and forced hundreds of smaller, less efficient breweries out of business.”

(Two tangents: The category that Stack calls “shipping breweries” seems analogous to what Alan McLeod labels “national craft” and merits more discussion, at another time. Stack tackles other questions that also are worth lengthy consideration: “Was the rise of large-scale shipping breweries inexorable? Was it actually beneficial to consumers? Were the changes in production techniques driven by a market-led search for greater productive efficiency?”)

After Prohibition, and after World War II, efficiency still played a role but there were other factors. In “The U.S. Brewing Industry: Data and Economic Analysis,” Victor Tremblay and Carol Horton Tremblay track the consolidation in the industry that occurred between 1950 and 2000 and look for the causes. The number of mass-producing independent beer companies decreased from 421 in 1947 to 24 in 2000. To further emphasize the degree of concentration, consider that in 1950 the 10 largest breweries in the country made 38% of the beer sold in America. That climbed to 52% in 1960, 69% in 1970, and 93% in 1980.

They suggest multiple causes, with advertising and sales economies partcularly important. Minimum efficient scale (MES) rose relative to the size of the market, but industry leaders became larger than required by scale efficiency. National brewers won the race in advertising, and greater advertising competition led to higher sunk costs in brewing. “National brewers benefited from consumers’ growing demand for premium brands produced by the nationals” and gained further cost advantage by building larger, more efficient plants. Many smaller regional brewers responded with severe price cuts, and brewers ended up into a war of attrition in which many failed or were purchased by other brewers.

But smaller breweries since returned, in force, opening so fast that the BA’s count of 3,739 U.S. breweries as of June 30 was out of date on July 1. The big certainly are getting bigger. Twenty years ago, Boston Beer Co. sold 948,000 barrels of beer, Pete’s Brewing (RIP) 347,000, and Sierra Nevada 200,000. Last year, Boston Beer sold 2.9 million, Sierra Nevada 1.1 million, and fifteen other companies the BA identifies as craft made 200,000 or more barrels.

At the same time, the rest of the breweries claimed a bigger piece of the pie. Twenty years ago Boston Beer sales accounted for 25.1% of craft and the 50 largest craft breweries for 77.5%. Ten years ago, Boston Beer’s share was 19.4% and the 50 largest sold 79.7% of craft. Last year, Boston Beer’s share was 13.2% and the 50 largest’s 68.1%. Different than what was occuring with breweries overall from the 1950s on.

Last month, BA economist Bart Watson tweeted a California-specific fact: “Small breweries are small. Looking at CA 2014 data: Breweries < 100 bbls = 144. 100 < breweries < 1,000 = 209. Breweries > 1,000 = only 122.” If you break down the percentages that’s 30% under 100 barrels, 44% between 100 and 1,000, and 26% at 1,000 or more, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that reflects what’s going on elsewhere. But that third category includes a few breweries that are a lot bigger than 1,000 barrels, so you see a landscape cluttered with hundreds of smaller trees/buildings/hills (choose your own analogy) and a few large ones.

It’s not going to look exactly the same next year, or in five years. But I think we’ll recognize it.

Session #102: The Landscape of beer

Budville, New Mexico

WE’RE NOT IN BUDVILLE ANY MORE

 

The SessionJack Perdue has posted the roundup for The Session 101 (“Bottles, Caps and Other Beer Detritus”) and Allen Huerta has announced the topic for the next Session will be “The Landscape of Beer.”

He provides several suggestions (“How do you see that landscape now? What about in 5, 10, or even 20 years?”) for a potential post, but the title itself provokes several ideas. For instance, it could be an opportunity to review The Geography of Beer: Regions, Environment, and Societies. Or to dig into one of the chapters, such as “Microbreweries, Place, and Identity in the United States.” Or to use suite of stories from the spring issue of American Brewer (“Tectonic Shift: The Changing Landscape of Brewery Ownership”) to add context to last week’s Duvel-Firestone Walker deal.

The next Session is Aug. 7.

The Session #100 topic announced

The SessionJack Perdue has announced the topic for The Session #101 will be Bottles, Caps and Other Beer Detritus.

Here is the premise: “While the number and quality of our beer choices has certainly improved over the recent decade, have you paid any attention to the rest of the package. Those things we normally glance over and throw away when we have poured and finished our beer. These are sometimes works of art in themselves. Bottle caps, labels, six-pack holders, even the curvature of the bottle. For this month’s The Session theme, I’m asking contributors to share their thoughts on these things, the tangential items to our obsession.”

For some people they are not the tangential items but the obsession itself.

Session #100: What makes a beer historically accurate?

Phoneix Kentucky Komon

Reuben Gray hosts the 100th gathering of The Session and asks blogs to write about “Resurrecting Lost Beer Styles.” Visit his site for links to other contributions.

The SessionWhen David Pierce set out to brew the first commercial batch of Kentucky Common in, well nobody knows how many, years “it was still back when we all thought it (had been) a sour beer.” That was 1994 and Pierce was brewmaster at Bluegrass Brewing Co. in Louisville.

We’ve since learned the idea that the process used to brew Kentucky Common in the early years of the twentieth century included a sour mash is just plain wrong. But, going on the best information anybody had to offer, Pierce began with a 100 percent sour mash, mashing in hot one night and arriving to a horrific smell at the brewery the next day. It was not an easy beer to sell. Roger Baylor at Rich O’s Public House in New Albany, across the Ohio River from Louisville, did his best to support a beer he thought was historically important. He promoted it as “beer formaggio.”

Pierce made the beer periodically in the following years before he left BBC to work for Baylor at New Albanian Brewing. He refined the process, souring only part of the mash, creating a beer than wasn’t as pungent. He thought the fifth, and last, batch was probably the best. “We couldn’t give it a way,” he said. Then somebody suggested they call it a Belgian sour brown ale. The last seven barrels (14 kegs) sold out in a week.

In the years since, meticulous research by Leah Dienes, Dibbs Harting, and Conrad Selle established that if Kentucky Common occasionally turned out sour in the marketplace in the years before Prohibition it wasn’t on purpose, and it certainly wasn’t made using a sour mash. That is reflected in the recently released BJCP Style Guidelines. Kentucky Common is in Category 27, Historical Beers, and the guidelines even specify “Enter soured versions in American Wild Ale.” That works fine for judging in a homebrew competition, particularly in a historic context, but what about modern day commercial beers? Kentucky Common now has a 20-year history in which a sour mash is used in the brewing process.

Granted the modern history is limited. However, if you are looking for a “Kentucky Common” brewed in Kentucky and sold outside of Kentucky it is going to be Against the Grain’s Kamen Knuddeln, which is a blend of a young sour-mashed beer and a barrel-aged stout. Jerry Gnagy gets a lactobacillus starter from Four Roses Bourbon for the sour mash. It makes perfect sense that had Kentucky Common been brewed continuously for a hundred-and-some years that it might evolved or at least different versions would have emerged. Using lacto from a nearby distillery? Makes sense. Include a portion of beer aged in bourbon barrels? Also indigenous.

Last month, as part of the Derby City Brewfest it hosted, Bluegrass Brewing invited participating breweries to make a Kentucky Common. Eight Commons ended on offer, some sour, some not. Because we were in Kentucky the following week I got a chance drink several of them. I certainly could have wasted a larger chunk of an afternoon than I did drinking New Albanian’s Phoenix Kentucky Komon and chatting with Baylor (who has currently stepped away from the business while he runs for mayor of New Albany). It is not an easy beer to make, and the brewery does it just once a year on its smaller four-barrel system — yes, four barrels a year; like I wrote, a pretty limited modern history. “It’s one of my roughest mashes of the year,” brewer Ben Minton said, in this case because of the percentage of corn and temperamental false bottom in the mash tun. “It comes out a little different every time.”

Apocalypse Brewing, Louisville

Two historic (in other words, not sour) versions I had at Apocalypse Brewing were equally delightful. Dienes had her Oertel’s 1912, which is based on the records in Oertel’s brewing logs and the only example of the style in the BJCP guidelines, on tap. Harting brought his homebrewed version. It is the only beer he struggles to keep on tap. “Oh dad, can I take a common home?” Harting said, quoting one of his children. “I’m sure it was a fabulous bucket (growler) beer,” he added.

This works for me. Kentucky Common of the past. Kentucky Common of the present. Kentucky Common of the future. There doesn’t have to be just one.

Session #100 announced: Resurrecting the beer dead

The SessionThat The Session has persisted for 100 months seems pretty astonishing to me. It apparently has outlasted Wine Blogging Wednesday. Coincidentally, the 100th edition of Beer Advocate magazine recently shipped to subscribers and beer friendly establishments where it is available. It includes a timeline with highlights from years beginning in 2007 — at that time, the Brewers Association defined as craft beer accounted for 3.8 percent of the market and Ray Daniels was just starting the Cicerone program.

Host Reuben Gray’s choice for Session #100 — Resurrecting Lost Beer Styles — leans heavily on history, so it seems like a good one for marking a milestone. He writes:

There are many of them (lost styles) that have started to come back in to fashion since in the last 10 years due to the rise of craft beer around the world.

If you have a local beer style that died out and is starting to appear again then please let the world know. Not everyone will so just write about any that you have experienced. Some of the recent style resurrections I have come across in Ireland are Kentucky Common, Grodziskie, Gose1 and some others. Perhaps it’s a beer you have only come across in homebrew circles and is not even made commercially.

I’ve probably already written too much about Gose and Grodziskie and after visiting Louisville and Lexington last week I know too much about Kentucky Common. Here’s the brewery cat at Apocolypse Brew Works sleeping on brew logs Conrad Selle brought to share, and — pro tip — I’m the guy to avoid at the party in the days right after a productive research trip. You won’t have to buy the next book; you will have already heard it.

Brewery cat snoozes at Apocolypse Brew Works in Louisville, Kentucky

But while I was talking to brewers in Kentucky a nagging thought returned. These beers disappeared, or nearly disappeared, because not enough people were buying them. So why should they be commercially viable now?

*****

1 Gose, Grodziskie and Kentucky Common are among the beers described in Historical Beer (Category 27) in the 2015 BJCP Style Guidelines released last week.