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The 10 Types of Craft Beer Drinkers

May 23, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

With an ever-increasing selection of high-quality beers available, well, pretty much everywhere, craft beer enthusiast are experiencing an age of taste enlightenment, a malt and hops renaissance clad in glass, bearing colorful, cleverly labeled heraldry. With so many options, it was inevitable that drinkers and drinking habits would naturally stratify, form groups based on behaviors and preferences and concentrations of alpha acids. I give you, distilled from the hot mash of beer culture, the ten archetypal craft beer drinkers. For the record, I’m some kind of mix between #4 and #9.

(Side note: I used the pronouns “he” and “his” for simplicity only, and am by no means suggesting this is a male-only thing. We’ll just assume that “guy” in this context is as gender malleable as “dude.” Everyone is a dude, male or female or equine or mythological.)

1. The Local

This guy drinks beer brewed in his home state, and maybe the bordering few states, exclusively. He’s a champion of the local craft scene, often espousing the local nanobrew that is climbing in popularity in a new brewpub two towns over or announcing what seasonals his favorite nearby brewery will be shipping out next. He doesn’t scoff at great beer from other places, but given the option, he’ll say “think locally, f*ck globally” every time. You can’t really be mad at him for it either; he’s a catalyst for brewing progress, keeping the smaller brew pubs alive, supporting the system at the roots, nourishing all those little guys with precious praise and dollars.

2. The Old Faithful

This guy has worked the same job for ten plus years, orders the same meal every time he goes to that same restaurant, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, always drinks the same beer every weekend from the comfort of a well-worn chair. It’s usually something pretty good: an IPA from an established brewery or a modern, well executed lager. But, like an old man stuck firmly in a rocking chair at a retirement home lamenting how the world “used to be,” he gets grumpy and dismissive if someone suggests he tries something new. He’ll likely drink that beer until he dies, or until the brewery goes under, at which point he’ll try to find a beer exactly like it which may be the only time in his life that he tries new beers.

3. The Critic

This guy is a roiling mess of negativity, who despite having downed some of the best beer in existence, cannot seem to say anything good about any beers. His rampant criticism of anything and everything beer related makes the people around him wonder if he actually likes beer at all, or if he just really likes to talk about how much he doesn’t like beer. He’s not uneducated, often correctly pointing out faults like over-hopping, high acidity, off flavors, and weak malt backbones. He’s probably tried more beers than most people who claim to “love/adore/admire” craft beer. But no one has ever seen him actually enjoying a beer. The day he does, the universe might implode.

4. The Appraiser

This guy is the antithesis of The Critic, who, despite tasting some stuff that a man stumbling through the desert dying of thirst would reject and wave off, loves pretty much everything that passes his lips. Even beers that could potentially be toxic or cause a severe allergic reaction; even bizarre beers, like that homebrewed rutabaga porter he tried last week; even beers that are stored and served in screw top two liter Mountain Dew bottles are OK in this guy’s world. If the beer really does taste awful, he’ll find something else to compliment, like the labeling or cool off-curlean blue of the bottle cap. When his drinking buddies say, “How can you drink this shit? Tastes like Scotch tape mixed with pureed owl pellets!” he’ll respond with, “Yea, a little bit I guess. But it’s definitely not the worst I’ve thing I’ve ever had!”

5. The Clueless One

This guy really wants to be part of the craft beer wave, really wants to fit in with all his friends at the bar on a Friday night as they take turns sipping from a sampler, but the combination of an unsophisticated palate and a possible learning disability keeps him from grasping the finer nuances of good beer. He’ll often ask, attempting to look beer-literate, if a lager is a pale ale, or if a stout is a hefeweizen. He means well, and seems to enjoy his beer, but can’t for the life of him keep styles or breweries straight. He once correctly identified an IPA and now that is all he will order, partly out of fear that people will realize he has no idea what he’s talking about, partly because he’s proud he finally got one right.

6. The Flavor Finder

This guy could be also be named “The Bullshitter.” His ability to identify flavors – many of which were not intentionally added to the brew – borders on paranormal. He’ll sniff at the settling head of an IPA and make verbal note of the subtle wafts of “raspberry, turmeric, and waffle batter.” He’ll take a sip and, swirling his tongue around his mouth, ask if you noticed the way the hops created “a dirty, rusty flavor” but “in a good way” then point out how the finish is like “molten cashews, cooked over a fire of pine needles and Brazilian rosewood.” The dude will claim to taste things humans can’t physically taste, like passion and eccentricity. If he is really tasting all of this stuff, there might be something really, really wrong with his tongue. Or maybe he’s about to have a stroke. No one knows.

7. The Beer Snob

Everyone knows one of these guys, the person not just happy to crack and pour and drink his beer, that guy who cannot control the urge to explain why the beers he drinks are vastly superior to the beers you drink. He’d never be caught dead with something less than 9.5% ABV, somehow equating alcohol content to quality. If it’s not a double or triple or Imperial version, he won’t even consider drinking it, as it is clearly below his refined tastes and standards. He spends his free time on BeerAdvocate and RateBeer writing short, overly-harsh and condescending reviews, always adding the note, “it’s no Old Rasputin” to the end of each. No one really likes this guy, but he thinks he’s doing the beer-drinking community a favor by ranting about the “impurity of large scale brewing” whenever he can.

8. The Beer Snob Snob

This guy has gotten all meta and is snobby about how snobby the beer snobs snob. He is the counter-culture backlash against the condescension that permeates the beer world, falling back on non-craft beers with lots of folk lore, like Pabst Blue Ribbon and National Bohemian. He wears square rimmed glasses, porkpie hats, and too-tight pants. This guy isn’t actually into beer for the sake of the beer, he just really, really likes to annoy people and say the word “irony” a lot. As soon as good beer isn’t cool anymore, it won’t be cool to like bad beer, which means it won’t be ironic to like any beer at all, and this guy will fade into mismatched, dub-step thumping obscurity.

9. The Comparer

This guy can’t help but compare the beer he’s currently drinking to every other beer he’s ever drunk. The first words out of his mouth after a virgin sip of a new (to him) brew, are always, “Hmm, this reminds me of…” It’s his mission to compile a mental database of every beer ever, to create connections between breweries, to be a walking, talking reference encyclopedia of craft beer. He’s actually great to have around if you’re trying to find new beers of a certain style to try, but otherwise his incessant obsession with categorization and beer hierarchy make him tough to hang out with. Never, ever, under any circumstance, unless you need to kill two or three hours, ask this guy what his favorite beer is. Trust me on that one.

10. The Brewbie

The new guy! The excited guy! The guy who just tried his first Stone Ruination IPA and just can’t stop talking about it! A new craft beer fan is born in the maternity wards of brewpubs every Friday night. This guy is usually overly enthusiastic, recommending every person try every beer ever, even if they’re underage, not a beer fan, or not even a human. He’ll go on about how IPAs are his favorite, no ambers, no pilsners, no stouts, no IPAs again; drunk on the new breadth of styles and flavors he’s just discovered, and also the beer itself. This guy tends to drink too much out of excitement, not realizing that his new beau is a good 2 or 3 or 5% ABV higher than the stuff he was drinking in college. No one gets mad when he gets a little out of hand though. His zeal and excitement remind us of ourselves when we first took a sip of that beer that turned casual drinker into enthusiast, and turned beer into art.

Homebrewd

“Milk is for babies. When you grow up you have to drink beer.” -Arnold Schwarzenegger

Pilsner Madness Round 1: Victory Prima Pils (11) -VS- Gordon Biersch Czech Pilsner (12)

April 18, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

Next up: The hop-heavy hitter, Victory Prima Pils trades blows with the malty-mangler, Gordon Biersch Czech-style Pilsner!

Pilsner Madness Bracket RD1 - 5

The Contenders:

Victory Prima Pils (11) –

For an unacceptable amount of time, I hadn’t anointed my tongue with Prima Pils, and had let Sam Adams Noble Pils, in all its noble, hoppy glory, reign as the king of flavor town. One sip immediately caused a coup in my brain; the loyalists of Noble Pils lining up in the corpus callosum, the revolutionaries of Prima Pils meeting them head on, glasses in hand like clubs made of delicate stemware. Then it got ugly. German malts and delicious hops everywhere. There is still a great-schism in my mind, two factions constantly warring over the holy pilsner lands, clashing at least once a month when I stand in front of a refrigerated case struggling to choose a six-pack.

Prima Pils carries with it the Victory Brewing pedigree than can be enjoyed in a few of their other brews: HopDevil, Golden Monkey, Storm King. They have a reputation for going big with the flavors and never going home, staying all night to party it up with the most hedonistic beer enthusiast. The word “prima” is a proclamation of joy, excitement, and success in German, and is definitely something I recommend yelling, inappropriately loudly for wherever you are, when you drink a glass of this stuff.

Gordon Biersch Czech-style Pilser (12) – 

Where Prima brings the weight, the seriousness, the raw-heft, Gordon Biersch keeps it light and simple. Gordon Biersch (who many of you might know from the very massively displayed “GB” signs outside the restaurants that pepper various states in the US) is an odd mix between craft and mass produced. Some of their beers have hints of technique and artistic culinary flair but then you find out that they also brew beer for Costco.

Their Czech-style pils is competent, but unapologetically plain. It tastes like a beer brewed by committee, who decided what the best flavor balance would be with reports and statistics, not with what hops and malts went into the brew kettle.

The Fight:

victoryvsgb

I don’t want to be mean to Gordon Biersh here; this pilsner is solid, tasty, perfectly refreshing on a hot day. It’s got a nice balance of subtle hops to mildly-sour malt and I quite enjoyed drinking it, and would drink it again.

But Prima Pils – holy shit – it’s like a battleship cruising the seas of taste. It fires 48, deeply bored cannons of perfect hop, blasting a hole of wondrous joy into the smoking ruins of your taste buds. Drinking this stuff is like convening with a deity whose sole purpose in the universe is to make your happy and warm your belly with perfectly executed post-beer-bloat. It is alpha, followed quickly by omega, followed quickly by alpha again as you pop off another top. This beer is good.

So, this wasn’t a really fair match up, but not much could stand up to the mastery of Prima Pils.

victorywinner

Pilsner Madness Round 1: Laguintas Pils (9) -VS- North Coast Scrimshaw Pilsner (10)

April 10, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

(Yes, I am aware that the basketball tournament is over. The pilsners are still fighting it out anyway!)

Today, Northern California’s Laguintas Pils throws some ‘bows at its slightly northern neighbor, North Coast Scrimshaw Pilsner.

Pilsner Madness Bracket RD1 - 4

The Contenders:

Laguintas Pils (9) – Laguintas brewing has been on non-literal fire since it was founded in 1993. Led by the presumably pretty quirky Tony Magee (who wanted to open the Languintas Chicago Brew Pub early so that patrons and beer lovers could watch the adjacent brewery being built in near-real-time), Languintas is now in the top 20 Craft Beer Club with a yearly distribution of about 106,000 barrels.

As anyone who has ever held a bottle of their brew knows, Laguintas likes eye-catching names, labels, and flavor text. Their pilsner, brewed in the traditional Czech style like a few of our other competitors, has this blurb on its label: “…Ales and Lagers are as different as can be. Still, we must love each for who they are, separately but equally, with liberty, and justice, for all. Cheers!”

I agree.

North Coast Scrimshaw Pilsner (10) – Most beer enthusiasts only know North Coast Brewing for their incredibly well crafted (and incredibly well reviewed and tasted) Old Rasputin Imperial Stout. If you’ve never had it, if you’re not really a stout person, or an imperial person, or a dark beer person, even if you’re really into depriving yourself of good things, you should go try this beer. It’s one of those benchmark beers; once you’ve had it, your perception of the very beer universe (beerniverse?) might change.

But in the shadow of Old Rasputin, North Coast has 18 other beers in its lineup. That’s like, Sam Adams level of variety. The Scrimshaw Pilsner shows their technical expertise, it is perfectly clear, well balanced, and spiced right up with a little bit of Hallertauer and Tettnang.

The Fight:

laguinvsscrimshaw

These two middle seeds are not messing around. They might not have the per-year barrel volume to compete with some of the craft beer giants, but their skill in brewing is practiced, professional, and mouth watering.

Both pour nearly the same color, pale golden yellow, like a late-season wheat field catching the final rays of a lounging summer sun. Both produce a small head that leaves popped bubble residue hugging the top rim of the glass. If I took the bottles away, it would be nearly impossible to decide which beer was which on appearance alone.

Scrimshaw hits hard with a much stronger (and more pleasant) hop aroma, reminding me a gently hopped ale more than a pilsner. Laguintas by no means smells bad but it has a significantly more malt forward smell to it, like some of our contenders in the previous few match ups.

And then beer hits lips and angels sing and the world finds peace. Scrimshaw bites at the tongues a little bit, but is relatively simple in the depth of its flavor. Laguintas is significantly more complex (the extra malt zing works well here) and it finishes so crisp and refreshing that I find myself cracking another one before I’m even finished with the first one.

Behind the scenes, I score these beers (or should say, scored, past tense, when I drank them) based on presentation, smell, and taste. These two tied. I didn’t think I’d have a tie. I have no tie-breaker. Oops.

I did the only thing I know how to do: I left it up to Google. It’s like flipping a coin that has been silver-plated with the weight of the analytics hive-mind.

Laguintas Pils: 22700 results
North Coast Scrimshaw Pils: 2080 results

The Googles have spoken. Winner: Laguintas Pils. These are both great beers though, highly recommend either (or both!) for Spring and Summer time outdoorsy type things.

laguintaswinner

Pilsner Madness Round 1: Weihenstephaner Pilsner (7) -VS- Brooklyn Pilsner (8)

April 5, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

The first side of the Pilsner Madness bracket finishes up with the world’s oldest brewery, Weihenstephaner, facing off against New York’s finest, Brooklyn Brewery.

Pilsner Madness Bracket RD1 - 3

The Contenders:

Weihenstephaner Pilsner (7) – Weihenstephaner, a name I can never seem to spell correctly, has claimed to be the oldest continuously operated brewery in the whole world. With documentation regarding local Bavarian farmers paying hop-tithes (the best kind of tithes) to the Weihenstephan Abbey dating back to 768, it very possible that this is the oldest brewery still around. Weihenstephaner has a pretty extensive line-up (comparable to a lot of craft breweries in the US) including a Festbier, A Hefe-Dunkel, and even a non-alcoholic hefeweissbier!

Weihenstephaner also has a very well designed and highly navigable website that uses an animation of a beer glass being filled as its page loading indicator.

Brooklyn Pilsner (8) – My love affair with Brooklyn Brewery started with a simple pint of Pennant ’55 Ale. Since then I’ve sampled a lot of their suds, often satisfied, rarely disappointed. This brewery is 1219 years younger than Weihenstephaner, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t done some great things since it was founded in 1987. Owners Steve Hindy and Tom Potter, encouraged by their success and love of beer, wrote a memoir/how to brewing book (titled Beer School) that details their experiences with starting their own brewery and all of the business challenges therein.

Brooklyn pilsner was brewed in a style reminiscent to the light golden beer that was preferred in New York prior to the prohibition. The recipe boasts two-row barely malt and both Perle and Hallertauer hops, making this a very faithful recreation of the classic German-style pilsner.

The Fight:

weihenvsbrooklynThe young Brooklyn pours a beautiful pale yellow with a twinge of amber, echoing the orange of its label. The old Weihenstephaner pours a perfectly clear pilsner-yellow with no off color, almost like liquid gold in a glass. Both bubble and billow into a large head as they’re poured, but retain very slight lacing that sends very subtle hop notes up your nose as you bring glass to lips.

A pretty even match.

Brooklyn’s flavor is enviable. Clean, crisp, surprisingly complex for the style of beer. Despite the overall quality, it has a very subtle carbonation burn on the tongue and the hops tend to get lost in the malty aftertaste. Weihenstephaner, somehow, is even more enviable. There is almost no acidity and the hops find a perfect harmony with the malt, making for lip-smacking refreshment. I felt it was very slightly under hopped, but that may just be an issue of personal preference. I guess nearly 1300 years is enough time to really get the recipe down.

I really enjoyed Brooklyn’s pilsner, but I have to give this one to Weihenstephaner, just because of technical brewing prowess and pedigree.

weinhwinner

Pilsner Madness Round 1: Jever Pilsener (5) -VS- Redhook Pilsner (6)

March 20, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

The third match-up in round 1 has the far-Northern German Jever Pilsener trading blows with Washington state’s Redhook Pilsner.

Pilsner Madness Bracket All Beers

The Contenders:

Jever Pilsner (5) – Oddly, Jever (Friesisches Brauhaus zu Jever) was founded by a guy with the same last name as our previous winner: Diedrich König. This particular König started his brewery in 1848 (10 years before his…cousin?) and was a man-about-town, helping do awesome things like install the city’s first water supply system (presumably to brew better beer).

Apparently the König family really loved lager. This is a relatively hoppy offering that comes from the very far northern town of Jever, Germany. It is no frills and not fancy, but is crisp and almost perfectly balanced.

Redhook Pilsner (6) – Redhook was originally known for its ales (and it is officially called the Redhook Ale Brewery), so a lager – especially a pilsner – was quite a departure from their comfortable norm. Anyone who has had their ESB will understand why they chose a pilsner though; Redhook is clean and fresh like the forests it calls home in Woodville, Washington (the same hometown of Carl “Apollo Creed” Weathers).

Redhook stuck their toe into the shallow end of the pilsner pool in 2010 with their summer seasonal “Rope Swing Pilsner.” The water must have been warm enough for them, as they added the pilsner to the list of full year-round offerings (next to one of my favorite, Longhammer IPA). My research didn’t yield whether this is the same recipe, or a slightly altered version. Saaz hops and sweet grains, either way.

The Fight:

jevervsredhook

Redhook’s uniform is like nothing we’ve seen before. Points to them for being different, but this is a tournament of beer, not bottles. Pretty even playing field here: Jever has experience and practice on its side while Redhook has youthful energy and ambition. Redhook pours with a little more vigor and color, but Jever has a much nicer, slightly hoppy aroma that escapes as soon as you uncap.

Redhook is putting a lot of pressure on the veteran German, but he’s handling the defense deftly. Both beers can finish nicely, but Redhook’s defense looks a little weak. Jever comes up with big points after Redhook gets a red card for too much carbonation on the field. While the young brew put up a good fight, he ultimately couldn’t keep up with 165 years of tradition and mastery. Maybe next season. Jever 2, Redhook 1.

Jever Pilsner moves on to the quarters!

Jever Pilsner moves on to the quarters!

Pilsner Madness Round 1: Pilsner Urquell (3) -VS- König Pilsener (4)

March 18, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

Next up in round 1 is the quintessential Pilsner Urquell verses one of the Rhineland’s best, König Pilsener.

Pilsner Madness Bracket All Beers

The Contenders:

Pilsner Urquell (3) – When someone says “pilsner” most casual beer drinkers immediately think of this clear, crisp lager, the first ever mass produced pilsner in the world (according to SABMiller’s marketing people). Its origins date back to 1842. While not hoppy at all compared to an American IPA, Urquell is pretty hoppy when compared other pilsners, thanks to the generous use of Saaz noble hops. SABMiller also claims that soft water and fire-brewing (heating the brew kettle directly with flames as opposed to heated water or some other heat source) add to the unique taste of Pilsner Urquell.

König Pilsener (4) – Theodor König was a pioneer, brewing bottom-fermenting lagers well before they were popular. Brewed in altbier style, nearly as old as its competitor, Konig Pilsener has been gracing the Beeck area of Duisburg with its perfect balance and deliciously pleasant finish since 1858. König is currently represented by German producer, director, and actor, Til Schweiger (or Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz as you may know him) who often appears next to giant cans of beer of billboards throughout the country.

The Fight:

urquellvskonig

The two beers enter this match pretty evenly; both present well in-glass: straw yellow, earthy hop notes followed by a strong (if a bit sour) malty punch, airy pure white head that dissipates quickly. Each keeps pushing up and down the field, lots of complexity despite the simple formula, lots of hoppy progress both ways, but no real action. Everytime Urquell scores, König answers. This is going to be a close one, y’all.

Urquell loses the ball midfield due to a bit of over-carbonation and bite on the tongue. The turnover costs them dearly as König quickly capitalizes and finishes with practiced professionalism. Their well balanced team of flavors is just edging out the Urquell boys, who despite a great showing, can’t see to keep up with the nearly perfect grain-packed aftertaste.

And there goes the final whistle. A close, if somewhat uneventful match from these two classics. König 4. Urquell 3.

König Pilsener moves on to the quarters!

König Pilsener moves on to the quarters!

 

Pilsner Madness Round 1: Sam Adams Noble Pils (1) -VS- EFES (2)

March 11, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

Round 1 of Pilsner Madness pits the seasonal brew turned mainstay, Sam Adams Noble Pils, versus the Turkish powerhouse, EFES.

I know that a traditional bracket works by putting the first seeded team versus the last seeded team in hopes of having a final of the first seed versus the second seed, but I never liked that idea. It seems unfair to the lower seeds. Every seed deserves the chance to grow.

To buck tradition, I’m doing a linear bracket, where 1 faces 2, 3 faces 4, and so on. The full bracket looks something like (or exactly like) this:

Pilsner Madness Bracket All Beers

The Contenders:

Sam Adams Noble Pils (1) – Noble Pils started life as the Boston Beer Company’s Spring seasonal in 2010, but was promoted to a mainstay of the Sam Adams brand (meaning it is available year round) in 2012. It was replaced by the new Spring seasonal, Alpine Spring.

I’ve already reviewed this beer and it’s impressive. When properly chilled and poured, this is height of drinkability: a complex but refreshing hop bundle, crisp finish, very little bitterness, and flavor that could beat the hell out of a lot of ales. The hop-heavy bouquet is a little odd for a traditional pilsner, but the pale bohemian malt really helps balance out what might be an overwhelming aroma and taste from all five noble hot varieties.

EFES (2) – EFES Pilsener is the flagship of the EFES beer brand, the number one beer in Turkey, and the main sponsor of the Turkish basketball team, Anadolu Efes S.K.

I’d never had this beer until I started my search for a bunch of different pilsners. The name and simple label caught my eye initially, and its popularity in Eurasia made it seem like a worthy beer to add to the list. Similar to some large production American beers, EFES adds rice during the brewing process which is claimed to give it a “unique” flavor.

The Fight:

noblevsefesNoble Pils starts this match out strong, pouring a deep golden color with a fresh, pleasing aroma on top of a thick white head. EFES comes out onto the field weak and confused, like it wasn’t ready to play today. The grass and cereal aroma dissipates into the March air as quickly as the small white head, barely lasting long enough for photographers to get any action shots.

Sam Adams strikes first: hops pass the flavor onto malts who come running up from the back field to score crucial flavor points. EFES tries to counter, but just kind of sits there smelling like corn. Sam Adams scores again as EFES tries to build an attack with a taste that is oddly reminiscent of chewing on the wrapper of a day-old bran muffin.

This game is painful to watch. Noble Pils keeps rocking the goal posts and the EFES defense and keeper aren’t even looking in the right direction. This sort of match up makes you wish there was a mercy rule in beer-sports.

And that’s the game folks: Sam Adams Noble Pils – 45, EFES – 0. This is proof that a large number of sales in Turkey doesn’t necessarily mean quality.

Sam Adams Noble Pils moves on to the quarters!

Sam Adams Noble Pils moves on to the quarters!

Pilsner Madness!

March 8, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

I am the worst basketball player in the United States of America.

I can’t do a lay-up. I have mastered the air-ball. I am incapable of dribbling with any sort of rhythm.

As a result, I never partake of any March Madness madness. When coworkers ask me to participate in the pool or fantasy league or just fill out a bracket for fun, I stand awkwardly in my cubicle, not entirely sure basketball is a safe thing for me to be around.

I like to stick to what I know: words, games, beer.

If you can’t beat ‘um, join ‘um. Or reinvent the whole thing so that it fits your specific interests and fields of expertise.

Literature and Libation presents an Oliver Gray production of: Pilsner Madness!

Through painstaking field work, sampling, and research, I have located and consumed 16 different Pilsner style lagers and pitted them against each other in a fierce battle for crisp, refreshing supremacy.

I only chose Pilsners because I had recently brewed one. I specifically tried to find beers labeled as “pilsner” or “pils” or “pilsener” and avoided any other pale or golden lager. The name, for anyone interested, comes from city of Pilsen in the Czech Republic where the style was first brewed in 1842.

Finding 16 Pilsners out of season was not an easy task. It took tens of minutes to scour the shelves of local beer stores to find what I needed. That’s commitment.

Without further ado, here are your contenders. They are seeded by the size of the brewery’s distribution (in barrels, converted from hectoliters for international brands):

  1. Sam Adams Noble Pils
  2. EFES
  3. Pilsner Urquell
  4. KonigPilsner
  5. Jever Pilsner
  6. Red Hook Pilsner
  7. Weihenstephaner Pilsner
  8. Brooklyn Pilsner
  9. Laguintas Pils
  10. North Coast Scrimshaw Pilsner
  11. Victory Prima Pils
  12. Gordon Biersch Czech Pilsner
  13. Southern Tier EuroTrash Pilz
  14. Great Divide Nomad Pilsner
  15. Heavy Seas Small Craft Warning Uber Pils
  16. Gunpowder Falls Pilsner

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be posting dueling reviews of these beers, in a bracketed, single elimination style tournament. I’m using my wildly subjective opinion of each beer to determine the winners, so don’t be offended if your favorite gets knocked out in the early rounds.

16 beers go in, only 1 beer comes out.

16 beers go in, only 1 beer comes out.

How to Brew All Grain Noble Hopped Pilsner

February 20, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

I stepped into Maryland Homebrew a few weeks ago with a focused mind. I had a recipe. I had a goal. A singular idea dominated my mind, and my will was committed to pursing it even if it meant my ruin.

I wanted to move from extract brewing to all grain brewing.

To anyone not familiar with homebrewing, this doesn’t sound like such a big deal. It sounds sort of like going from Shake N’ Bake to homemade seasoned breadcrumbs. A little extra preparation work, but similar end product: breaded chicken.

But to a beersmith it’s so much more than that. It’s a right of passage that we must face armed only with a couple of buckets and our wort stirring spoon. It marks the transition from brewboy to brewman. It’s a bubbling, boiling, fermenting, Bar Mitzvah.

When I told the staff at MD:HB I wanted to do my first batch of all grain beer, they all jumped to attention, quick to help me load up heavy bags of grain and answer any questions I had knocking around in my beer-addled brain. One staff member showed me how to best use the mill to crack my grain. Another talked to me about temperatures for strike water and mashing. Yet another guy called to another, across the warehouse area in the back, “hey, this guy is doing his first all grain!”

As I was checking out, I felt like I had joined an exclusive club. Like Skulls and Bones. Or the Masons. Or the Mouseketeers.

I was part of a club of people who did things by scratch, with purpose, with art and flourish and drunken enthusiasm. I was now on the all-grain inside. And it felt good.

I went home all blissfully happy, grinning like a little kid who had just eaten the slice of his birthday cake that had his name written on it in icing. I set to mashing and brewing, a new man in a new world.

Of course, I couldn’t be simple (or practical). I decided not only to do my first all-grain brew, but my first lager as well.

Sometimes a man has to buy 9.5 lbs of pilsner malt. We all have our vices. Don't judge me.

Sometimes a man has to buy 9.5 lbs of pilsner malt. We all have our vices. Don’t judge me.

Things You’ll Need

  • 9.50 lbs of pilsner malt (this is the good stuff, it smells like sweet bread)
  • .5 lb Cara-Pils (as a supplement to your main malt to add some color)
  • 1 oz Tettnang hops (Noble hop 1 of 5)
  • .75 oz  of Spalt hops (Noble hop 2 of 5)
  • 1 oz Hersbrucker hops (Noble hop 3 of 5)
  • 1 oz Hallertau hops (Noble hop 4 of 5)
  • 2 oz Saaz hops (Noble hop 5 of 5)
  • Czech Budejovice Lager Yeast (I used Whitelabs liquid WLP802, for anyone wanting the specifics)

You’ll also need the full brewer’s regalia and accoutrement (I like to say, “ackoo-tray-mon” all fancy and French-like):

  • A mash tun (good job I already showed you guys how to make one, right? guys?)
  • A brew kettle (that will hold all of your final volume – 5 gallons for me)
  • A big spoon (Yup.)
  • Some oven mitts (if you use the nice matching ones your wife has in the kitchen, try not to spill sticky wort all over them)
  • Ice bath or wort chiller (I still don’t have a wort chiller, because I’m cheap and cooper is expensive)
  • Thermometer (if you don’t have a laser gun thermometer by now, I can’t help you)
  • A hydrometer (for measuring the beeryness of your beer)
  • Bucket or carboy (unless you want to ferment it in something weird, like 8 two-liter soda bottles)

Step 1: Monster Mash

Malt extract is basically just pre-made (and condensed) grain extract. You’re going backwards one step in the process by doing all grain. It’s up to you and your cleverness to extract all that delicious sugar from that massive pile of grain.

Heat up five gallons of water plus a little bit extra to make up for the volume lost during boiling. Since it takes approximately one epoch to heat up five gallons in one container on an electric stove, I recommend splitting it out into several different containers. If you have a gas oven or a patio stove, feel free to use that, but don’t bring the water to boil.

You want to get your water hot, but not so hot that it scorches the grain. The temperature of the strike water (or the first water you add to the mash tun before the grain takes a nice bath) will vary based on your recipe. For this one, I kept the temperature around 160 degrees. Despite being an efficient holder-o-heat, your mash tun will likely lose a few degrees over the hour you let the grain settle, so heat it up just past your target heat to compensate.

Yea, I used the kettle. I made some tea afterwards, so this isn't weird.

I made some tea afterwards, so this isn’t weird.

Once you’ve added your water to the mash tun, you want to quickly add your grain. This is sort of like adding hot chocolate mix to a mug of hot water: a bunch of grain will sit on top and not get wet. Like a viking manning a long ship, use your big spoon to stir the grain until it has all been thoroughly wetified.

I underestimated my water here. I ended up adding more, but only drained 5 gallons off of the final. I'm not good at math.

I underestimated my water here. I’m probably the worst estimator in the Great DC Metro area.

Step 2: Wait an hour

You’ll need to wait while the hot water sucks all of the sugar out of the grain like a diabetic vampire. To prevent excessive heat loss, wrap your mash tun in some blankets. No, not that one. Or that one. Go get the ones on the guest room that no one ever uses. Deny knowledge if your wife asks why they smell like a brewery.

This is a good time to chill out and drink a beer that is like the beer you’re making. Notice the flavors, appreciate the craft. Sam Adams Noble Pils or Victory Prima Pils were my models. Now is also a good time to stir the grain, but don’t leave the top of the mash tun open for too long while you’re stirring.

One episode of Law and Order SVU later (dun-dun) your wort should be ready for the primary boil.

Step 3: Drain the mash tun into your mash pot

Hopefully you put your mash tun on a kitchen counter or something at hip-height, otherwise, have fun lifting 40 lbs of really hot water plus ten pounds of soaking mash up onto something high. Remind me to go back in time to remind you to put it on the counter, not the floor. You’ll need gravity’s help to drain all of the wort out o the tun.

Position your mash pot on a chair below the spigot coming out of your mash tun. Before you start filling the pot with the precious brown liquid, you’ll want to collect about a liter of wort in another container. This prevents any loose grain husks from getting into the wort.

198

I used the same pitcher I use to fill the cat’s water bowls. I hope they don’t notice.

When the pitcher is full, start filling the pot. Pour the contents of the pitcher back into the mash tun as to not lose all of that sugary goodness. If you used exactly 5 gallons, you’ll need to tilt your mash tun slightly to get all of the liquid out.

Ok, so I lied. I didn't use a chair. I balanced the brew pot on a brew bucket. Terrible idea. Don't try this at home.

Ok, so I lied. I didn’t use a chair. I balanced the brew pot on a brew bucket. Terrible idea. Ignore this picture.

(Note: Up until this point, sanitizing your equipment isn’t super important. Everything should be clean and free of anything loose or gross, but since you’re about to boil the stuff for ~60-90 minutes, not everything has to be perfectly sterilized before coming in contact with your wort. After the boil though, make sure everything is clean as bleach. But don’t actually use bleach.)

Step 4: Boil ’em cabbage down

Now you’re back to where you would be with an extract beer. Get the wort to a rolling boil and add your hops as called for by your recipe (for this pilsner, I did Spalter and Tettnang at 60 mins, Hersbrucker and Hallertau at 15 mins, then Saaz at knockout). You don’t have to worry about steeping any grain or anything like you normally would with an extract, as you’ve already done that hard work in the mash tun!

Wasn't quite boiling yet. Oops. Impatient.

Wasn’t quite boiling yet. Oops. Impatient.

Now you just need to cool and pitch your yeast. If you need help with that part, see my Homebrew 101 post.

Step 5: Make a pizza

There is one slight drawback to moving to all grain brewing. When you’re finished, you still have ~10 lbs of wet, sugarless grain sitting in your mash tun. There are a few options of what you can do with all this perfectly edible grain. Some people like to donate it to local farms (apparently horses and cows quite literally eat this shit up). Others like to make dog treats with it (apparently dogs have similar palettes to horses and cows).

I decided to make a pizza.

These grains are very similar to bread grains, so the crust I formed tasted sort of like multi-grain bread (chunks of grain and hard bits and all). I didn’t really know what I was doing, so I just combined flour, water, baking yeast, some olive oil, and the left over beer grain until I had something that was pretty dough-like.

I thought it tasted pretty good. Not sure my wife was a huge fan.

Beer and pizza go so well together that literally mixing the two was a no brainer.

Beer and pizza go so well together that literally mixing the two was a no brainer.

Review: Gordon Biersch Czech Style Pilsner

June 18, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

It is hard to tell at this point in my life whether I have gotten much better at video games, or video games have gotten much easier.

I’d like to think that I have the mental ability and dexterity to skillfully play any game, but deep down, a part of me thinks that my recent rise in skill is only thanks to a coincidentally timed decrease in challenge.

When I was but a wee-Oliver, I remember games like Secret of Evermore (SNES, represent!) being stupidly hard. Even now, if I fire up an emulator, the game isn’t incredibly easy. Easier, maybe, but that is because I’ve played (and beaten) it many times before.

I blame the years of World of Warcraft and Kingdom Hearts, and other such games that offer the gamer very little consequence. Failure means little more than restarting at the latest checkpoint, or casually trotting your ghost back to the place you died. The days of losing hours of progress because you forgot to save and got unlucky on one random encounter are gone.

Not that such a trend is a bad thing. I enjoyed the aforementioned games. Autosaves and in-game progress markers make for a much less frustrating gaming experience, and one that requires significantly less time to feel like you’ve accomplished something. But on the other hand, these “features” detract from the edge-of-your-seat excitement that comes from squeaking past a level or area to get to a save point, your characters and investment in the game on the brink of annihilation the entire time.

I enjoyed new attempts to revive gaming difficulty in the likes of Bastion (with all of the idols activated at the same time, the game was near impossible) and a fresh take on puzzles like in PlayDead’s creepy platformer, Limbo. I didn’t enjoy the illusion of difficulty in Dark Souls; I really tried to give the game a chance, but a lack of instructions and monsters that can kill you in one hit is artificial difficulty. The game is no longer testing the player’s skill, but instead, their patience.

Thus I come to the point of my post, the faux-difficulty wall that is Inferno difficulty in Diablo 3. I speak from nerdy experience (Witch Doctor in Act3 Inferno) when I say that Blizzard is simply capping how far players can go with stupid, overly strong encounters. It doesn’t require skill to progress, it requires borderline exploiting and repetitive, boring game play.

Boring game play. That’s kind of against the rules of gaming, right?

That’s why I like beer. Drinking beer is never more difficult than swallowing and savoring. Maybe after 10 or so the difficulty increases, but I’ll save that for another discussion. When I play a game and get frustrated by something completely out of my control (Fast/Invulnerable Minions/Fire Chains/Mortar, anyone?), I can always remind myself that I can have a beer, and enjoy it for what it is.

Gordon Biersch’s Czech Style Pilsner is exactly that. It carries a bit of German influence, but it is sour and malty, setting it apart from more acidic pilsners in the same category. It has an abudant, pure white head that smells hoppy, and takes a good minute to settle. Most importantly, this beer is the epitome of “drinkable.”

When everything is face-bashingly hard and unfun, GB:CSP goes down easy.

8.5 out of 10.

I normally play a Witch Doctor, but I was sick of getting killed in Inferno so I was messing around with a Demon Hunter.

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