Budweiser battles it out with Russian rival

Tapped out: Maine’s take on India Pale Ale

Beer has become overwhelming. There are over 4,000 breweries in the U.S. alone, each with a long line of unique styles. From the NASCAR Keystone pounder to the snobbiest nanobrewery connoisseur, there is no all-encompassing definition of a beer drinker. With this ever-expanding spectrum, even the most casual of beer drinkers feels the pressure to know how to tell the difference between Heady Topper and a Natty Daddy. No longer are words like “nice,” “smooth” or “ew” sufficient; instead, “hoppy,” “dry” and “effervescent” have entered the sipping vernacular.
In an effort to expand our own horizons, this week we’ve decided to stray from our previously-trodden path of mass-produced lagers like Kingfisher, Budweiser and that Soviet swill from our last column and instead, venture into the world of craft brewing.
During the Raj’s rule in India, there wasn’t a whole lot for the Brits to do besides play cricket, increase taxes and get their buzz on. While we commonly credit them for the antimalarial quinine-containing concoction that we now call a Gin and Tonic, there is another beverage for which we can thank our friends across the pond. In order for beer to stay fresh on the ships from London to Bombay, English breweries produced the India Pale Ale, a beer that was chock-full of one of beer’s primary ingredients: hops.
If you take a whiff of an India Pale Ale, or IPA, your nose will likely be met with a floral, sometimes bitter scent, perhaps with hints of citrus or pine. Those are the hops, the flowers of the hop plant that are used to flavor and stabilize beer, and this addictive aroma has helped lead to the IPA taking off in the craft-brew scene across the U.S.
As it seems like every state prides itself in one brewery’s IPA or another, and since we do not have the time to review them all, we have chosen an IPA from Maine and one from California in an effort to explore a coast-to-coast comparison of this hoppy style. With Shan’s car having broken down in Portland, this week we made our lemons into a Leinenkugel and ventured into the Craft Beer Cellar in the Old Port. We sought out the help of the store owner who pointed us in the direction of the most obscure Maine craft beer in the place: Marsh Island Brewing’s Downrigger IPA.
When poured into our glasses, this Orono-brewed IPA presented itself with a warm, slightly cloudy amber color and a light head that lingered as we sipped. As we took a long sniff, we were struck by a wave of hops. The hoppy aroma is a byproduct of a step called dry hopping, during which hops are added to the beer after the initial boiling process. As we took our first sips with great ceremony, we were surprised by the subtlety of the hoppy flavor. The Downrigger held interesting floral notes with a caramelized-orange tang, and the inevitable bitterness only appeared as a subsequent aftertaste. The 6.8% ABV became harsher as the beer warmed, a feature that did not earn any plaudits from this week’s guest taster, Mr. Evan Bulman.
Representing the West Coast was the Enjoy By Black IPA from Stone Brewing Co. in Escondido, Calif. Enjoy By is produced only a few times a year and, as the name suggests, is intended to be consumed quickly after brewing for optimal freshness. This particular batch was called “Enjoy By 02.14.16,” and while The Craft Beer Cellar’s owner assured us that these extra two weeks would not affect the beer’s flavor, we do concede that he may have wisely seized an opportunity to convince two novice beer drinkers to help clear his inventory.
The first word that sprung to our minds when we took our first sniff of Enjoy By was “dank.” As earthy as it was hoppy, this beer poured a deep, dark brown that barely allowed any light to pass through. Like the Downrigger, Enjoy By retained a thin foamy head; however, it clung to the sides of the glass in a way that the Downrigger did not. In spite of its heavy alcohol content (a whopping 9.4% ABV), Enjoy By was incredibly drinkable, likely a side effect of the malty flavor that hits as soon as it touches your tongue. Malts, which are sugars that aid in the fermentation process of beer brewing, help to sweeten beer to give it some of its yeasty, sometimes bread-like flavor. Enjoy By also was more hop-forward than Downrigger, with piney hops that played a starring role in the beer’s flavor as well as its smell.
These two IPAs were about as different on the taste buds as they are on the map. However, they did serve to represent two sides of the IPA spectrum. If we were to render a final verdict, we agreed that while Enjoy By offered a unique spin on what an IPA can be, we felt that the Downrigger was a through and through, approachable IPA for beer drinkers of all walks of life.

Tapped out

Budweiser battles it out with Russian rival

This piece represents the opinion of the authors:

February 19, 2016

This weekend we remember a tense chapter in our world history. A conflict so icy it would have prompted Randy to send out a winter advisory warning. We are referring, of course, to the Cold War. The fierce chess match between two global powers had the people of the world on the edge of their seats as they waited to see who would make the first move. Tomorrow, the eyes of the Bowdoin student body will be fixed upon a similar rivalry, one between the Soviets of MacMillan House and the patriotic Americans of Quinby House.

To honor this historic event, we ourselves are pitting two international powers against each other in a battle of brews. Let’s bring out the contenders.

In Uncle Sam’s corner, weighing in at five percent alcohol by volume, we have the one, the only, Budweiser: proudly brewed in the U.S. since 1876 and owned by Anheuser-Busch. For the past 140 years, the King of Beers has been a staple at every American barbeque, an annual fixture of Super Bowl commercial and the go-to of every panicked teenager who tries to purchase a late-night six-pack from a gas station Kwik Shop.

Standing in the (former) Soviet corner, also weighing in at five percent ABV, we have Czechvar. This Czech beer has been brewed since 1785—a full 91 years prior to Anheuser-Busch’s American classic—in the city of České Budĕjovice, Czech Republic (which was under Soviet control from 1946-1989 as part of Czechoslovakia). České Budĕjovice, or Budweis as it is known in German, first exported this beer to the United States in 1871, inspiring Anheuser-Busch’s Budweiser five years later.

Budweiser is a staple of American beer drinkers. Advertised for the past few years as the King of Beers, it brags to be a lager that is to the point, plainspoken and “not brewed to be fussed over.” Budweiser is “for drinking, not dissecting.” Clearly we are meant to be impressed with this gruff rhetoric. We therefore approached our Budweiser ready to grunt and spit, but, surprisingly, we found the bottles to be twist-offs. Our patriotic sentiments dampened slightly. This convenient corporate decision seemed to go against the very nature and spirit of this iconic beer. But then again, free trade and capitalism are pretty convenient.

As we dove into our Buds, we found the taste to be smoother than we had remembered. As a lager that brags of supreme drinkability, we had to admit they were onto something. The malt, rice and barley were mixed in a perfect balance, much like the balance of powers created by our glorious Constitution. No single aspect of this triumvirate of ingredients outshined the others. George Washington would have been proud.

When you first see the Czechvar, your eyes jump to the flashy golden foil covering the cap and bottleneck. This ostentatious touch, much like communism, promises the everyday consumer their share of the Soviet wealth. This foil turned out to be a pain in the ass, also much like communism.

The Czechvar had a different taste. It proved to be a touch sweeter, but with metallic hints and stronger taste of grains (perhaps influenced by the hammer and the sickle?). With very few notes of hops, the majority of the taste sprung from the sweetness of the malts used to brew this lager—we hear they are quite accomplished at refining sugar (and uranium?) over there.
After a few rounds of the bout and feeling a little punch-drunk, we both concurred that we should drink more Budweiser. The Czechvar helped us to pay homage to Budweiser’s roots, but as is the case with ice hockey, human rights and appropriately dressed leaders, a classic lager looks a little better in stars and stripes.

Comments are permanently closed.