Until recently, the American beer scene had a deserved reputation for homogeneity. From the ’50s to the ’80s, brewing was dominated by a few huge conglomerates, all making basically the same watery lager. Bland American beer became the butt of epicurean jokes the world over.

So why does Ireland get a pass when their beer scene is exactly the same thing, except the beer is black? That’s right folks. Irish brewing is overwhelmingly dominated by a sort of mass-market, nitrogen-carbonated beer chiefly produced by three brewing names: Murphy’s, Beamish, and of course Guinness.

Americans have a tendency to overromanticize anything Irish, and the Guinness (or should I say parent company Diageo) marketing machine has run with that, spending tens of millions annually to link the Guinness name with St. Patrick’s day and all other things Irish, such as hurling and the Catholic church. They’ve even been able to create their own pseudoholiday: the much ballyhooed Guinness Toast, in which Guinness drinkers around the world toast simultaneously at a prearranged time. It’s as underwhelming as it sounds.

So here’s to Guinness for making their dry, creamy opaque stout a ‘cool’ beverage among the only market that matters in America: 18-34 year olds. A trip to Ireland will show you the brewery has failed miserably at accomplishing that feat on its home turf. The only people who drink Guinness on the Emerald Isle are oldsters and tourists. Most pubgoers are content with Bulmer’s Cider and (gasp!) Budweiser, because Anheuser-Busch spends tens of millions of dollars to make them think it’s cool.

Here’s to breweries without a marketing budget.

-Mark

You want a Holy Grail of beer? Here you go. Westvleteren 12, brewed by reclusive Trappist monks, fits the bill in every sense of the word. As far as the beer world is concerned, W-12 is the ultimate. It’s also extremely difficult to obtain.

Unlike the other Trappist breweries, the monks of the St. Sixtus Abbey take a more hardline approach to the concept of selling beer to sustain their abbey. They make darn sure they only sell enough to keep themselves at sustenance level, regardless of very high worldwide demand. While Rochefort, Orval, and Chimay are widely exported to the USA, Westvleteren is only available at the abbey.

Basically, the brewery makes three beers. You call the phone number in the morning and find out which one is available that day. Then you drive to the abbey and wait in a queue. If the twelve is being sold, expect to wait a while. There’s a limit of one case per car.

Apparently, the W-12 is fantastic. I wouldn’t personally know because I’ve never had the opportunity to taste it, and I probably never will. Because of the artificially reduced supply, beer geeks go absolutely apeshit about the twelve, and that certainly affects tasters on a psychological level when they finally get some of it past their lips.

I say great for them. Great for the St. Siuxtus Abbey, and great for anyone who relishes the challenge of obtaining this beer. For my money and semi-valuable time, I’ll take a Rochefort-10, an astoundingly excellent strong Trappist ale which I can find here in the USA. At this level of monastic breweing, “best” is a subjective term, and the law of diminishing returns definitely applies in a situation where customers are held at bay to the obtuse notions of religious tradition. However, Westy does offer an important lesson for students of marketing: If you brew it, then don’t advertise it, then hardly allow any of it for sale, they will come.

Generally all over the bottle.

-Mark

by popular demand, well, one reader, actually, I’m resurrecting the long-dormant “Friday’s overrated Beer” feature. Keep in mind that just because a beer is overrated doesn’t necessarily make it bad. But somehow it just doesn’t live up to the hype.

Pink, sprightly, and dainty, Lindemans Framboise is the most readily available example of the Framboise lambic style. Once a rare bottled treat, you can now find Lindemans issuing forth from taps all over town. Unsurprisingly, this Framboise appeals primarily to female drinkers, many of whom have discovered it can be mixed with Hoegaarden to create an elegant beer cocktail colloquially known as the “dirty ho.”

So that’s how young beer discoverers first see the Framboise style, and it’s really not an accurate representation. Although it’s brewed in the traditional lambic way, open fermentation vessels, old farmhouse, spontaneous introduction of wild microflora and all that, the Lindemans take on the style is tooth-melting sweet. It’s pretty obvious that, instead of merely flavoring the sour lambic with raspberries, they add a shitload of raspberry flavoring and sugar as well.

Fruit lambics can range from this level of alcopop sweetness to almost vinegar sourness. As is so often the case with beer, the best fall somewhere in the middle. Needless to say, after only knowing Lindemans beers, you wouldn’t recognize most of the other lambics from Belgium.

And that’s why it’s overrated, a traditional, centuries-old farmhouse style reformulated by marketing guys for export to our nubian young happy hour chicks. And the formula is working well. Lindemans recognized earlier than most Belgian specialty breweries that their bread would be buttered on the other side of the pond. It’s good beer in its own way, but drinkers in pursuit of the true spirit of raspberry lambic would do well to hunt down a more complex Boon Framboise, or, for the really brave, Cantillon.

-Mark

On the surface, Stella Artois comes across as ironic- a mass-market light lager among a nation of ancient and singular beers, owned by InBev, a brewing juggernaut among farmhouses with vats in them.

But if you spend any time in Belgium, you’ll see that the folks really like their Artois. Stella and inBev co-owned lager Jupiler make up the vast percentage of Belgian beer sales. I guess you can’t drink Tripel every day.

Until the mid ’90s, Stella was rare around these here parts. Times change, however, and now the beer is brewed in Canada and pumped to us through large-diameter pipelines, or so it would seem based on how quickly Stella has saturated the American market.

In truth, it’s a pretty good beer. Fresh-tasting, with a grassy finish, Stella mekes a great summer cooler. But what makes it overrated is the same thing that makes it ironic: Stella rides the reputation of the Belgian brewing tradition- a tradition which, at least in its modern incarnation, the beer completely ignores.

I live in Western New York, a region that until three years ago had but a cursory knowledge of Yuengling beers. You could get the lager at about two restaurants, as well as our local beer superstore, but that was pretty much it.

Yuengling, however, made a huge marketing push in our area for their Traditional Lager. Bars had the lager on special all the time, at insanely low prices. Because people are sheep, it soon became the order du jour when out on the town. The campaign was extremely effective, especially among young adults.

Yuengling is America’s oldest brewery. That gives them all the street cred they need, but they can’t really get a pass for their lager. It’s not thin or watery, but it is full of that delicious corn adjunct flavor. Corn corn corn corn corn.

You see, barley, the grain from which beer is made, is a more expensive cereal than corn. So less discriminating breweries use corn to kinda round out the barley. Sometimes you can barely taste it. Other times, as in the case of Yuengling, the corn flavor and aroma grabs you by the nose and shakes you.

Oh, by the way, the Indians call it maize.

So, while not a terrible beer, it’s cheaper and worse than the yuppies who order it think. That’s why I consider Yuengling Lager overrated. I like my corn, err..maize, on the cob, not in the pint glass.

-Mark

Carlsberg is one of the great names in brewing. They perfected a lot of what goes into modern lagers. They’ve funded incredible art museums. Truly a class company.

Too bad their beer is so damn average. It’s very bland, mildly skunky,absolutely unmemorable. That’s the best I can say about it. If you want a good Danish lager, go for Tuborg (which is owned by Carlsberg). Problem is, Tuborg is much harder to find in the States.

Even Carlsberg isn’t sold on their own brand. The slogan is “Probably the best beer in the world.” Probably? Who the hell is their ad agency? I guess, with a beer as average as Carlsberg, you don’t want to overstate the case. People might ask for their money back.

-Mark

Ok, we’re starting this again…

This beer is as overrated as a Caribbean vacation. A corny, skunky, utterly sub-average lager made popular by its sun-n’-fun connotations, Red Stripe is like Corona, but without the unique and delicious flavor.

now let’s throw in the lowbrow, borderline racist ad campaign the importes of the Stripe are currently running on nationwide TV. You know, the clown in the sash mugging Jamaicanly for the camera as he hands Red Stripe to the tourist? I can’t put my finger on it, but something about that ad makes my teeth grind.

Bottom line, if you’re not on a cruise ship, or island paradise fenced off from the poverty and misery that surrounds it, you got no business drinking this dishwater. Do us all a favor and find a good Pils.

-Mark

You ever go out with the office crew for Friday happy hour? That one giggly chick always orders Blue Moon. She likes the taste and thinks it’s sophisticated. She’s also got a boyfriend, so forget it.

Hey, you like what you like, and what you choose to drink is not a measure of sophistication. But Blue Moon is a pale imitation of Belgian witbeer. Oh, and it’s also a phony microbrewery. The stuff is made by Coors. Think of it as money laundering but with beer.

I can’t really lambaste anyone for enjoying this beer, just don’t expect it to taste authentic; its like lasagna from the Olive Garden. If you want to try a real Belgian wit, go for Hoegaarden. You can thank me later.

-Mark

It’s a sad situation. Many four-star restaurants will boast a wine list that resembles the US Tax Code, and yet carry only three beers. Since these are classy restaurants, one of them will be an “import.” That import is almost always Heineken.

Now Heineken isn’t bad per se, but it has some, shall we say, questionable flavor characteristics. Out of the tap, it tastes like nothing. You might as well be drinking Fosters. When served from those green bottles,the UV rays of the sun break down the hop compounds, and Heineken takes on a characteristic skunky taste that some people swear is part of the flavor profile.

Love it or kinda like it, Heineken will always be that one import you get at the wedding reception’s open bar. It will be the beer you order on the plane. And trust me, over the course of your life you’ll order it again and again, usually because there’s nothing better on that anemic index card that all to often passes as a beer menu.

-Mark

The American beer scene of a couple decades ago was pretty bleak. Imports were sparse and expensive, no micros to speak of, and the closest anyone got to actually appreciating it was “Bud Bowl.” Then Jim Koch changed everything.

Never mind the fruity-looking patriot on the bottle. When Sam Adams Boston Lager first appeared, it was like the gates of heaven had opened. Balanced, dark, delicious, it quickly became a favorite among the trendy set and the beer afficianados. For years, Sam Adams remained a viable choice on any tap set.

Then something went wrong. Horribly wrong. Perhaps it’s because they started letting Genesee (now High Falls Brewery) contract brew the stuff. Perhaps it got lost in Marketing’s frenzied push to increase the Boston Beer Company’s product range. It just slid right of the hill. It’s nice that tey use Hallertau hops and all, but what was once a flavorful, complex lager nows seems cloying, a tad syrupy, with a weird finish.

Sam Adams is still held in very high esteem, and granted, I haven’t ordered one in about four years, so maybe it’s good again. But for now, it goes on the Beercraft list of Overrated Beers.

Special Thanks to the guys from Spaten and the Brooklyn Brewery for this hangover. We enjoyed the event at the Krown last night. That the Spaten was excellent goes without saying. The Brooklyn Blond Bock was a very pleasant surprise. Nice job, Mr. Oliver and crew!