Skip to main content

Since when was defining a beer’s style and definition definitive?


Before I begin, let me just warn you that this is a bit of a rant. I could have taken the time to form this into a well-thought-out and constructive argument, with quotes, pictures and tastings to back up my thoughts, but because this is mainly going to be contradictory, I’d rather just spew this broken bile in one go.

Let me also say that this will scapegoat the likes of Magic Rock, Summer Wine, Marble and Millstone, which are all breweries I love. And it’s for this reason that I know their beers so well and am using them as my examples. They are still amongst my favourites, no matter what is said in the next few paragraphs.

This stems from a conversation with my brother surrounding Magic Rock’s latest offering, Clown Juice. But let me take you back a few years first. In 2009/10 used to work just 100 yards from the Marble Brewery owned Marble Arch in Manchester and would be in there at least once a week. I got to know their beers well and frequently enjoyed pints of Summer Marble, Manchester Bitter, Pint, Dobber, No. 7, Liberty etc… What I really enjoyed about tasting these beers is what I still ineloquently describe as “the Marble Taste”, i.e. I could taste one of their offerings and think, “Yes, this is definitely a Marble beer.

Whether it was the hops, malt, yeast, whatever, Marble beers had a very distinctive characteristic, no matter what the style. And that is the point, I never really cared what style the beer was, nor did the pumpclip care to instruct me. You see, Marble were pumping out a lot of these beers that were, arguably, similar in style, but they all tasted very different. They all had individuality but at the same time had “the Marble Taste.”

This is why Marble are one of my favourite breweries.

When Magic Rock launched last year and hit us with Curious, Rapture, Dark Arts, High Wire and Cannonball, they were all fantastic, but what impressed me most is that, whether low grav pale ale, strong double IPA or stout, the beer’s all retained a similar characteristic, The Magic Rock Character. I really respected the fact they had an identity, instinctly putting them alongside their Manchester brothers at Marble.

So this debate arose surrounding Clown Juice. On it’s own, it’s a nice beer, a great beer in fact, but I couldn’t help being slightly disappointed. Why? Because it said Magic Rock on the label. And for me, it didn’t have any of their character. It’s a good India Wit bier, and it seems to be the trend to make one at the minute, but it also could have been brewed by any other brewer for my reckoning.

And this is my next problem. Beer styles. Why are they so definitive now? It’s almost as if every new brewery has a list of styles in front of them that they were told they must have. We must have ONE American Pale, ONE IPA, ONE DIPA, ONE Black IPA, ONE Imperial Stout and ONE Red Ale. Once they’ve worked through this list, they turn the page. “OK lads, next it’s brown ales, imperial witbiers and milk stouts.” Summer Wine, another favourite brewery of mine, seem to be falling a little guilty to this at the minute (just to remind you, I reference them, only because I hold them in such high esteem.) You brew one style of beer, that everybody’s already done, and then move on to the next.

Back to the Marble Arch, and the point that Marble were not defining their beer in such a way that limited them to just one style. Behind the scenes, perhaps they have distinguished between them and some beers do have characteristics in common with American style Pale Ales and IPA’s. But they didn’t need to define them as such. My ever faithful and local Millstone brewery are another great example of this, making at least 6 really good, hoppy English bitters with similar atmospheres, but they are all individually different. You don’t need just one of each style.

You probably read this as the ramblings of a madman and perhaps they are such. Maybe breweries don’t need their own identity if the beer is great. If you can make a fabulous Imperial Stout and beautiful Best Bitter with the only parallel ingredient being water, then what does it matter? But I, personally, respect breweries more when they retain their personality. Clown Juice is a great beer. Go out and try it. I’ve heard others say it’s just as hoppy as their other beers.  I’d enjoy it that little bit extra if I could somehow see how those hands also crafted High Wire as well. But I’m just one guy with his own opinions and I’d still order both in a hurry.

Comments

Unknown said…
What I find with the likes of Magic Rock and Summer Wine is that they are inspired by the beers of other brewers that they've tasted and then want to brew something similar but with their original spin. Not so much a case of ticking every page in the style guide, more stretching their repertoire.

They also explicitly reference styles on their clips as such styles are very marketable within the niches in which they operate.

Popular posts from this blog

"They Had Their Issues, So..."

      There’s a set of garages to rent as storage units near my workplace. One of them is taken by a local florist that uses it to store flower arrangements for various events, that are more often than not funerals.   As such, at least once a week at 8am I will pass a car being loaded up with flowers arranged into heart shaped patterns or the letters M U M. It is a grounding reminder that, as I mentally grumble my way through the upcoming arbitrary grievances of my ordinary working day, a group of family and friends locally is going through the hardest time. It provides much needed perspective on days when I could do with being reminded of all that I have to be thankful for.   These little moments explain to me why it is possible for us to share a communal loss when a celebrity passes away. Grief is often a personal and lonely experience, shared between a minority of people in your life. When a co-worker loses a relative or friend, it has little affect on me, bar signing of

LIVERPOOL - the City that Craft Beer Forgot Part II (and found...)

After visiting Liverpool, one of my favourite cities, in February this year, and not impressing people with my rather hasty but honest verdict on the city’s lack of craft beer, I jumped at the chance to return last week and hoped to come out with a more attractive judgement. A couple of friends and I visited on a day out, with neither of them having been drinking in the city before. It was left to me – or rather, I volunteered – to plan the day’s itinerary and places to visit. I had a couple of new or unvisited places in mind myself, but knew it would be unfair to miss out on some of the city’s famous gems. With around 10-12 hours in which to fit in an entire city, I opted to concentrate on the famous Georgian Quarter and see if we had time for the Dale Street end later on.    We planned to arrive in the city for around 11a.m. just in time to walk up Mount Pleasant to the new-on-me, though I believe it has been opened three years, Clove Hitch on Hope Street for breakfast.

Ten Reasons Why I Hate Brewdog

There was a time when I thought beer was subjective, when I believed it was there to be interpreted and commented on from a personal perspective. I used to form my own opinions about beer, pubs and breweries and sometimes I’d even write them in this little blog. Brewdog were no exception; I was happy to praise them when they did right and criticise when I felt they were wrong. Of course I now have seen that I was wrong to do this. You see, it’s not about opinions or personal preferences; it’s about following the crowd, doing what’s cool and avoiding controversy. At present it’s not cool to like Brewdog. Despite the fact that I still really enjoy their beers and bars, people keep telling me why I should hate them. You probably already do, as you are well “in” on what’s hot and what’s not. I wasn’t aware of this, the e-mail never landed in my inbox, but not wanting to fall out of the loop I’ve presented a list of reasons why we should all hate Brewdog so I can fit in with this g