Unreasonable Expectations for Beer

Over the past several weeks, I noticed an ongoing trend in my beer selection. Instead of opting for the well-crafted, seven to eight dollar six-pack, I found myself seeking out the exotic, extreme bomber. For example, over the last week, I consumed Avery’s Maharaja Imperial IPA, the Malheur-12 Dark Ale, and the Dogfish 120 Minute IPA. Also, awaiting their doom in the fridge are Avery’s Collaboration Not Litigation Ale (Batch #2), Northcoast’s Le Merle Belgian Style Farmhouse Ale, and Unibroue’s 16 and 17 Belgian anniversary bombers. Man, what happened to the reliable, blue-collar lager that used to greet me as an after work treat?

All I know is that I wasn’t always this way. As a matter of fact, there was a time when drinking beer was really out of the question. Sure, the cold longneck is generally the introductory alcoholic libation for experimenting teens, but I opted for wine initially. Knowing people deeply involved in the industry from the time I turned 21 provided easy access a wide selection of great wines. I guess I just couldn’t convince myself to acquire a taste for beer when wine was so plentiful. However, when I began to regard bartending as a profession, I wanted to be sure to make accurate recommendations for my guests about wine, spirits, cocktails, and yes, even beer. Before I realized what was happening, beer was not only another obsession, but a reliable option that could be found in any bar.

Lately, however, I have been disappointed by several beers despite high recommendations by people that, in the past, have been reliable sources for finding a great brew. Take tonight’s beer, Avery’s Karma, a Belgian Gold Ale. I generally like Avery’s beers. They have created what are hands-down some of the most flavorful and creative beers to come out of the American micro-brew scene. The Karma, however, was really underwhelming. I expected a complex and flavorful American take on a traditional Belgian-style ale, but what I got was a lighter, subtle summery brew – not the beer I wanted. I said to Kevin, “Man this beer sucks; I usually really like Avery’s stuff.”

When I tried to expand on my criticism, I found myself unable to provide any specifics. Sure, the beer wasn’t the most flavorful I’ve experienced, but it was anything but bland, had a good mouth feel, and, overall, was very balanced. What more could you want in a beer? To be short, I wanted the characteristics of the Avery IPA I tried earlier this week, the Maharaja. That beer was awesome; it had some of the most intense hop flavor of any IPA I’ve experienced.

It occurred to me, however, that assuming that every one of Avery’s beers should live up to the reputations of the Maharaja, or heaven forbid, the Mephistopholes, is an unreasonable expectation. One of the most important lessons that I learned from my introduction to appreciating wine when I was younger was that every bottle of wine should be judged by its own merits. Judging a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc against an Australian Shiraz is a ridiculous way to formulate an opinion. Every bottle makes a promise; the only way to determine whether it is a good wine, spirit, or beer is to find out if it keeps it. The Karma never promised to provide what I’ve come to expect from Avery’s small production beers. It is supposed to be an easy to drink take on a Belgian ale, and that’s exactly what it is.

When analyzing their drink of choice, people frequently forget that not every bottle can be the best. If they where, the experiences and memories of those special gems that have become our favorites would not exist, as everything would be reduced to a standard average. While wine snobs have the reputation of being the most notorious critics of “inferior” bottles, beer elitists are threatening the throne of libation pretentiousness. One need only look at Beer Advocate’s List of the Top 100 Rated Beers to see this circumstance exemplified. Seriously, are we really supposed to conclude that, with a few exceptions, the best beers in the world are all imperial stouts, double IPA’s, and extreme Belgians? More importantly, would you want to drink more than one or two of these beers in an evening?

If the answer is no, I think we have to question the validity of ranking beers without, at least, some categorization. Instead, beers should be considered for what they are; a solid lager can still be a good beer. Now, I’m not saying that the types of beer in my fridge are going to change anytime soon. I enjoy drinking beers with intense flavors more than those that are more drinkable, but my preference does not mean that other beers lack quality and wouldn’t hit the spot at a ball game or after a real busy shift. This is the standard by which we will choose to recommend beers, wines, spirits, and cocktails on this site, and we feel is a better approach that anyone who thinks about their beverage should employ.