I feel I'd be pretty confident in saying that my seasonal beer drinking habits are probably in line with most serious beer drinkers. After a summer-full of lighter pilsners, lemon-and lime infused beers, wheat bears and other hot-weather styles, the shorter days and falling leaves lead me to darker, heavier, more full-flavored beers and ales.

Not having to worry about sitting for hours in the hot sun, brown ales, smokey porters and rich stouts get added to the shopping list--along with pumpkin ales, spicy holiday brews and even some hoppier ales, depending on the activity and the menu choices. This is also the time of year I make more trips to the grocery myself, where I can usually put together a "build your own" 6-pack of individual beers I'd like to try (keeps me from making $10 "mistakes") and also grab an occasional 22oz bottle of something special.

Most fall and winter weeknights, I'll enjoy a bottle or two while reading or watching TV; often checking the Twitter stream and surfing for beer-related news and commentary. I generally don't do in-depth beer reviews (there are enough of these already) but I will usually tweet a brief comment on what I'm tasting, some initial impressions and also--whether I might drink it again. 

So far, I've come across few beers I would describe as "bad." If I express any negative comments about a beer, it would be more likely that it's not particularly true to stye, or that I don't find it quite as "remarkable" as some other people do. In other cases, I mind not find  a beer's taste so pleasing, but I am also willing to chalk that up to personal preference--especially where high IBUs are concerned.

Weekends are a little different. I'm a big NFL and NCAA football fan, so that naturally pairs with beer-drinking. If I'm at the neighborhood sports bar--to which I can thankfully walk--I might settle in with a Yuengling (buck a bottle on Thursdays) and if I am home, a sessionable brown ale or dark lager. Regardless of how good the game might be, I wouldn't try to pound a lot of heavy, high ABV craft beers, and I don't think you would, either.

It's early in this "dark season." My favorite so far has clearly been Samuel Smith's Organic Chocolate Stout, which was incredibly rich and dessert-like. In fact, I know I will be serving a small glass of this this along with dessert at some holiday dinner party. I found Breckenridge Brewery's Vanilla Porter to be quite good as well; very smooth and subtle.

I have just started checking out Christmas ales as they are now coming out. Locally, Akron's own Thirsty Dog puts out an excellent 12 Dogs of Christmas Ale, though I found Great Lakes Brewing Company's Christmas Ale to be just slightly smoother in terms of the spice combination. What that really boils down to is that I might drink two of one and three of the other at Christmas dinner.

Happily, Hoppin' Frog Brewery is about a mile from my house, and it wouldn't be winter without a few of their Imperial Stouts, Porters and Scotch Ales. They've always been major belly-warmers; the perfect thing for a cold winter night in front of the fireplace, nodding off during an episode of Brew Dogs.

Though I am not a particular fan of most IPAs, I am intrigued by some of the darker, so-called "black" IPA's I've seen, and am determined to give them a try some time soon. In fact, if you have any good suggestions, let me know.

This time of year, the beers are lovely, dark and deep.  But there are so damn many to drink. 
Let's get to work.

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I've sampled a lot of beers this summer, but one that really stood out is the Indigo Imp Blonde Bombshell that I picked up at the high-end market in town. It was smooth, very rich and clearly had the nose of a bottle-conditioned beer. But what struck me the most was the bright, yeasty- flavor that brought back some great memories.

Over 25 years ago, my wife and and I couldn't really afford much of a honeymoon, so we spent a weekend in Frankenmuth, Michigan - a great little town (cough-tourist trap) that offers some great places to visit and some great food.

At the time, they had a Carling Black Label brewery in town, we went on a tour and the fresh Black Label in the hospitality room was actually pretty good. Also in town was the little Frankenmuth Brewery, which offered two kinds of beer--regular pale lager and a dark beer.

I purchased a six-pack of the lager and took it back to Ohio with us. It was good, but what I remember most was the incredible, fresh, yeasty flavor--with which I was not familiar at all, and not found in any other beer I'd had at the time (this was 1983, after all). At the time, I later discovered that the strange, fruity taste I was experiencing was due to the still-active yeasts in the brew; I wasn't sure it was something I preferred, but it was a memorable taste, nonetheless.

That original Frankenmuth brewery is no more - it's been replaced by a new version, with much more sophisticated and higher-quality beers. But the yeasty brightness of this Indigo Imp bombshell brought it readily to mind. I still have my wax-sealed "imp" bottle in the fridge - I have a feeling  it will possibly improve with a month or more of aging - if I can resist drinking it a little longer.

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Every summer,  my normal beer-drinking habits morph into something slightly more plebian - I generally gravitate towards lighter beers and ales, usually mixed with lemonade during hot afternoons lounging around the pool. That preference is supported by long experience; for some reason, Mexican-style beers like Corona, Modelo and even bottles of  Land Shark can be enjoyed in quantity on the hottest of days without giving me a headache.

So it should be no surprise that Shandies of various types are regularly sampled, along with some other lighter types that I wanted to try. Here's a brief look at some of what I've enjoyed this summer...

Sam Adams Porch Rocker
Wasn't expecting a lot, but I actually enjoyed this--and have purchased it on more than one occasion. Nice, solid brew with a light, lemon twang that was reasonably natural-tasting. Refreshing and dependable.

Leinenkugel Summer Shandy
I used to really like this brand. But that was before they began selling it at a premium price. Their original red ale was solid, but this shandy was a big disappointment. Forgettable beer with a very artificial lemon taste - more akin to a lemon cough drop than real fruit.

Hopping Frog Turbo Shandy
Easily the best beer I had all summer.  Delicious ale, rich - but not too hoppy, with a rich, sweet, lemon zest that called upon me to drink more and more. Unfortunately, at about $7 for a 22oz bottle, that is unlikely. But this stuff is delicious - and that's not just hometown bias.

Great Lakes Brewing- The Wright Pils
This was a real letdown. I generally love GL beers, but I've found that more of their beers are starting to have the same "hop profile" - making it harder to discern what style of beer I am drinking. Pilsners should be light, golden, clean and drinkable -- but this was way too hoppy [and bitter] to fit the style. It was the same situation with the GL Oktoberfest I tried last fall...way over-hopped for the beer style.

Seems their brewmaster has fallen into the American craft-beer trap of throwing too much hop into the brew kettle. My feeling is that if you can't stay true to the real "style" of the beer--that's fine--but then you should just call it something else.

Stiegl Radler
No, I did not try the grapefruit radler that seems to be the hot thing now. The local ultra-high end market in town had a couple cases of the stuff in the beer aisle, but I prefer the original lemon, which really does have more of the "lemon soda pop" mouth feel than more typical shandies, and is absolutely delicious. I usually take a few bottles of this to my friend's annual summer-ending luau and it's always a big hit. Awesome stuff.

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            When you’re writing about beer, you feel it’s only fair to let people know a little bit about your background and tastes, so they can put your commentary into a context that makes sense. With that in mind, I thought I might share some thoughts about the worst and the best beers I have enjoyed up to this point—which includes about forty years of beer drinking.

            It’s important to keep in mind two things here. One, it’s quite possible that I have yet to come across the absolute “worst” or “best” beer, since we never can really know what the future holds. Two, when categorizing these beers (especially when you’re talking best beer) other factors come into play, like the impact of the moment, the color of one’s memory, and the context of drinking. Think of it this way: that ice cold Coors Banquet beer you had when after you just finished mowing the lawn in 100+ degree, record-breaking heat 15 years ago might be remembered quite fondly. Likewise, the first really good beer you had of a certain type might be remembered as the best, even though you may have had better examples since then.

THE WORST

            This one’s easy. I was working at an ad agency near Cleveland, and a new Indian restaurant was just opening up in the ground floor space in our building. To help introduce themselves and build word-of-mouth business, the new proprietors invited most of the other tenants in our office tower downstairs one late afternoon for a buffet, where we were encouraged to sample a variety of their dishes. The food, as we all had hoped, was really excellent, and after sitting at a table for a few minutes, one of our hosts graciously came out to offer us something to drink.

“Well, a beer would be nice,” I replied. “If you happen to have any.”

            My host's eyes lit up. “Oh yes, of course,” he said. “I have just the thing; I can bring you some beer from India!”

            He returned a moment later, cracking open a tall, 16oz. brown bottle with an ornate gold label and majestically pouring into a tall pilsner glass. I looked at the label, which said World Famous Bombay Beer. I thanked him as he stepped away to help another table.

            Now, before I disparage any hard-working brewer on the subcontinent, please understand that I seriously doubt this beer is a relation to any currently-available beer of this name—blonde or otherwise. This was, after all, over 15 years ago.

            As I raised the glass to my lips and took some long gulps (the food was a little spicy, after all) the girls who worked in the media department observed my reaction carefully, since they were thirsty too, and were wondering if they should follow my lead. As I swallowed, I could see the looks on their faces, no doubt mirroring the confusion, bewilderment and revulsion on my own.

           

            “What…thefuckisthisshit???” The words were hard to pronounce, since my mouth was probably contorted into the shape of a dog’s anus. Which was kinda what this beer tasted like.

           

            “What is it?” asked the girls. “Whatsa matter? Isn’t it any good?”

            I set the pilsner glass down in front of me, took a long look at it, and then inspected the bottle label again, just to make sure it did, in fact, say “beer.” Crazy as it seems, I actually found myself tasting it again, as if to confirm my disbelief.

           

            “This,” I announced slowly, “is-absolutely-the-worst-tasting-beer-I-have-ever-had-in-my life.”

           

            “That bad, huh?” someone asked.

            “Yes,” I confirmed. “You know the Ganges River, where all those people go to bathe before they go into the Hindu temple? I think they stand downstream and collect the water for this beer there.”

            In fact, after some consideration, I surmised that it wasn’t that they collected water from the Ganges to make the beer, but that the dirty water itself was actually in my bottle. It didn’t even tasted like beer—truly an indescribable mouthful of—something. Worst part was, it was a 16oz. bottle to boot. I left the other 14oz. on someone else's table.

THE BEST BEER I EVER HAD

            If you recall what I said at the top of this article about remembering your best beer, then it certainly applies to this example. By the early 1980’s I had enjoyed plenty of decent beers and some very good imports, though there was not a lot available at the time. But after Merchant DuVin started importing more obscure, high-quality beers from overseas, better stuff could be obtained. Trying to save money for our first home, I found a second job working the drive-thru section at the best beer shop in town, called The Outpost.

            I can still remember coming home one night after work with a few bottles of Samuel Smith’s Pale Ale, from the Old Tadcaster Brewery. This was back when it was still in a clear bottle, and I can recall pouring this lovely brown ale into a small juice glass, gazing in wonder at it’s beautiful creamy head and savoring the rich, fruity esters that tickled my nose. The taste? It was absolutely delicious…like drinking a bite of grandma’s apple pie, but not as sweet, of course.

            What a revelation that was. Who knew that beer could be that good—or that a single bottle of “the good stuff” could give so much more satisfaction than any 12-pack of ordinary American pilsner could ever muster? Like most people who have tasted today's well-made craft beers and suddenly had their eyes opened, that first Samuel Smith’s was my own real eye-opener.

            Since then, I’m sure I’ve had beers that were probably every bit as good, maybe even better. But certainly, none have been more memorable…and that is what makes it the best for me.

            If you have a memory of your worst or best beers, feel free to share them in the comments; I’d like to hear about them.

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The previous post brings me to one of the most useless phenomenons I have come across: the beer review podcast. I can think of few things more uninteresting and offensive to a person who is thirsty than to hear two guys sitting in the kitchen or the garage talking about the beer they happen to be drinking. I’ve done a lot of searches on iTunes and Podcasts and Stitcher to see what’s available, and while there are a few good beer shows out there, I have yet to find any that present reviews in an entertaining and interesting format.

No—what you typically get is two smarmy guys sitting around injecting dull beer commentary into their equally dull small talk—but making lame attempts to be funny. The strange thing is, a lot of these guys all seem to sound the same; like some clones of the Sklar brothers—trying to bounce what they think is clever and witty repartee back-and-forth, but offering only perfect tedium.

To add to the offence, a lot of these podcasts go on for a couple of hours. As a former producer of radio commercials, I have a firm belief that effective editing can improve most anything. But a lot of these jackasses think that listening to them drone on for almost two hours is somehow entertaining. Unbelievable.

In fact, the only part that is funny is listening to some of the tasting commentary:

About a strong IPA: “Mmmmm…hoppy! For sure…”

A Doppelbock:  “Well…the first thing that hits you is the malt. Very rich malt  taste.”

Any Christmas Ale: “Lots of spice here. Some citrus notes…cinnamon. High gravity – for sure.”

AKA - THE RECORDING STUDIO

Really? Why don’t they just read the freaking label to me? Maybe if they provided a clear, concise and intelligent beer review that lasted about 15 minutes, they might get a few more subscribers. C’mon—who the hell has two hours to waste on this kind of crap?

So far, I’ve been talking about audio podcasts, but some of the video podcasts suffer from the same issues. The real difference is that we can see that the participants are generally well-fed, sport some version of facial hair, and are (just as we suspected) sitting around a kitchen table, or in the garage out back.

Again, I’m not saying that audio or video beer review podcasts are a bad thing. But it’s clear that the Craft Beer Scene has inspired a few too many of them, a few too many that are alike, and a few too many that are of questionable quality.

If you know of one that is really good (or any good beer-related podcasts out there) please let me know. I’d be happy to listen – and even recommend it.

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When we first put together this site, we needed to decide what kind of topics we wanted to cover and discuss on our posts. Commentary on whatever is happening (or not happening) in the beer world seemed the obvious choice; for myself, being slightly older, occasionally grumpy, clearly opinionated and naturally suspicious of  “craft beer hype” – this made for a perfect fit. I also do not find that every new brewery opening or bottle roll-out merits coverage—at least not in a post. We do tweet a lot of this news on Twitter and some finds its way onto our Scoop.it feed, but we generally don’t comment on those news items unless there is a bigger issue involved.

Which brings us to the topic of Beer Reviews.

First of all, let me say that I do think beer reviews by knowledgeable and expressive tasters can serve a purpose—particularly in weeding out beers that some drinkers might not care for. Personally, I don’t really like most bitter, over-hopped beers, and if a reviewer notes this as a characteristic, I’ll know to pass on that specific bottle or pint. Of course, I can always offer my own views—I consider my palate as experienced and nuanced as most people—but I’m content to defer to those who have some actual judging background, and who can offer opinions colored with a little more technical accuracy than my own.

I might add here that the only things more yawn-inducing than beer reviews are the Twitter accounts of people who do nothing but tweet whatever beer they happen to be drinking. Warrants an instant unfollow. Do they really think I care? I mean, an occasional untappd share is one thing—but throw in a comment, a thought or an opinion once in a while.

My feelings on reviews being what they are, it doesn’t mean I won’t ever review a few beers (yes, send me a sample, you might get lucky) but god knows you can find beer reviews just about everywhere else on the Internet. Why add to the noise? Beer reviews are a dime a dozen. Some are helpful and interesting. Some are pretty useless…like most beer-related podcasts. Which will bring us to our next post…

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With all the beer-rating apps available for smart phones, there’s never any shortage of viewpoints when it comes to the quality of one brand of beer or another. Of course, there have been websites and blogs with taste-tests and ratings for years, too (something I have chosen—for now—not to bore you with) resulting in the fact that there are plenty of opinions out there, should you ever need one to help shape your beer-drinking decisions.

Me? Usually it’s whether I think the label is attractive or not. Or the tap-handle, if we’re talking draught beer.

But I digress. What does tend to irk me is how many “raters” or commenters will take what we know to be a perfectly good beer and whine about how it smelled skunky—as if that quality was brewed into the beer at the outset.

The recent example I came across was a rating on Pintly for Stella Artois, which I have enjoyed for many years, and still do upon occasion. I’ve been lucky enough never to have had a bad one (most were on draught) or an old one in the bottle. And that is the key.

Having sold beer, I know the importance of regular stock turnover and rotation. And everyone should know the effect that things like light and age have on beer. So if the “rater” a) didn’t notice that the bottle may have been dusty, or - b) wasn’t fully confident of the beer’s freshness, they may have wanted to delay final judgment until a proper sample could be obtained.

It’s not uncommon to come across a beer with a strange, unpleasant or slightly-off taste / smell, even when fresh. But generally-speaking, skunkiness should be a red flag that says “dammit – this beer is past its prime, or hasn’t been stored properly.”  That’s probably not the brewery’s fault, though it’s true some styles and some bottles (green) are more susceptible to this odiferous condition. For more on this, check out a nice article here.

You would hope that an educated beer drinker would realize that it was more likely that the particular “sample” was skunky, rather than the “beer” being skunky—and perhaps not representative of the product as originally produced. To some, that’s a fine line, but bad things can happen to beer after it leaves the brewery and before it gets to your mouth.

Which, in the end, is a pretty good endorsement for the idea of enjoying your local craft beer, anyway. It should always be fresh. Right?

Note: I did come across a story headlined "Skunky Beer Recalled by Stella Artois" in 2010 - but that problem was not skunkiness at all (innaccurate headline) but a "sour" taste due to a production problem...and none of that beer reached US shores, anyway.

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