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Ales for four, please
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Eric Asimov NYT
Saturday, May 29, 2004
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Testing rations for a summer's day
NEW YORK Back when the legal drinking age was not taken as seriously as it is now, I wrote beer reviews for my high school newspaper. I didn't have much to choose from: a selection of imports gathering dust on warm grocery shelves or a thoroughly insipid group of domestic beers. But one domestic brew rose far above the pallid norm. It was Ballantine India Pale Ale, and I can still taste its robust flavor with its snap of bitterness. I would savor every drop.
Alas, the Ballantine company no longer exists, except perhaps as an orphaned brand name. But 30 years after I first tasted IPA, the United States is awash in this lively, strong and clear style. Credit goes to the craft-brewing revolution of the 1980s and '90s, which prodded the American beer industry out of its midcentury torpor. Small brewers, eager to recreate what they had tasted overseas or had merely read about, resuscitated styles like IPA that had been forgotten or left for dead.
In memory of those dark days we decided to sample 21 India pale ales. Such ales make good seasonal sense and good storytelling, too. Few beers can conjure so much romance and salty seagoing adventure as they do. The India pale ale style was developed in Britain in the 18th century, as a way to provide the empire's colonial troops in steamy India with rations of their beloved brew. Beer did not often survive the marked changes of climate on long trips to tropical destinations. Efforts to brew it aboard ship failed, and India lacked the moderate climate necessary, in those days before refrigeration, for successful brewing.
The solution came in the 1790s. The brewer George Hodgson realized that a higher alcohol content would inhibit spoilage, and that bacterial action could be slowed by adding extra doses of hops, which impart bitterness, liveliness and aromatic complexity. The strong ale that resulted had a distinctive backbone that could withstand the journey and still refresh the troops. The necessity for the techniques of producing India pale ale eventually died out, but the taste for it did not, and British and American brewers continued making it through the early 20th century.
Joined by Garrett Oliver of Brooklyn Brewery, and author of "The Brewmaster's Table," two of my Times colleagues and I tasted 18 ales from the United States, two from England and one from Scotland. Ale, by the way, is a broad subcategory of beer whose brewing is characterized by yeasts that convert sugar to alcohol at moderate temperatures and float to the top of the vat after fermentation is complete. Lager is the other major subcategory. Its yeasts stay at the bottom of the vat and work at cooler temperatures.
How true are these modern pale ales to the original style? It's hard to say, but given the wide range of aromas, flavors and alcohol contents, it is clear that the style is open to considerable interpretation. Typically, India pale ales should be 6 to 7 percent alcohol, as against the 4 to 5.5 percent in most other beers. Yet we tasted, and very much liked, versions with alcohol levels of 9 percent.
Brewers of these extra-strong beers have even given them a new name, imperial India pale ale. Perhaps they should be in a different category, as well. Our third-ranked beer, the Dogfish Head 90 Minute Imperial, impressed us all with its complexity, balance and liveliness, but at 9 percent alcohol, it is far too much for a sunny summer afternoon. We gave it three stars, but it is better suited for after-dinner sipping, maybe with cheese.
By day, I would try one of our top selections, like the Smutty Nose Big A, which has plenty of personality, a core of refreshing bitterness and surprisingly fruity flavors. The Stone ale, too, is focused and fresh, with intriguing aromas and flavors. We gave three stars to the Harpoon, which is spicy and harmonious, and two to Samuel Smith's mellow, minerally India Ale, the only non-American ale to make our list.
Our tasting did not find much middle ground. Stylistic differences were one thing, but I divided the ales into two major groups: those that tasted fresh and alive, and those that were dead on arrival, most likely because of poor storage conditions. I expect that if any beer could survive the rigors of heat and age, it would be India pale ale, but apparently even this class has its limits.
Variations from bottle to bottle are common in both wine and beer, which can be discouraging to the consumer, but no more so than to the producer, who might not get a second chance to impress you with a product. That's especially true today. If you don't like one ale, you can always find another.
The New York Times
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