Below are two articles I wrote on beer styles. They have not been published before. I had intended to combine them into one article, as they are closely related, but decided that each worked better as a stand alone article. As always, I welcome your comments.
Cheers!
A Word On Beer Style
When considering the question of beer styles, the argument
has an unfortunate tendency to, very quickly, become contentious and confining. Many persons, sometimes it seems to be the
majority, simply will not accept a beer that does not fit their concept of an
established style. One may hear them say
something along the line of “It is a good beer, but not to style.” What does this mean? Is it a nice way of saying a beer is
awful? (Looks good on you…) Who gets to
determine what a style is? Will the beer
police arrest the brewer and take him before the beer judges? If it is truly a good beer, but not to style,
is it then a new style?
Not long ago I read an essay in which the author, a beer
judge of some certification, stated his belief in the importance of brewers
being trained to “recognize styles and to judge critically.” However, he then quickly stated that he often
had to “turn off” his critical tasting apparatus and simply enjoy the beer he
happened to be drinking. So it would
appear that being sensitive to beer styles takes the joy out of beer
drinking.
Well, now isn’t this a pretty state of affairs. Perhaps we need to go back to the start and
see where beer styles came from.
The first thing that we all, as beer drinkers and creators,
need to realize is that until recent times a beer style was a wholly
unintentional creation. The first
brewers did not sit in their caves, scratching their chins, and suddenly cry,
“Aha, I have it. I will make a Welsh
Bitter!” No, indeed.
Rather, beer styles arose as an artifact of geography and culture.
In the early stages of brewing, up until the industrial era, people used the
ingredients that were readily available.
Not all ingredients were available in all locations. Further, due to cultural norms, some ingredients
would be accepted in one area and rejected in another. So the origin of style
is a reflection of culture and geography.
As trade and transport became more efficient, brewers found
at their disposal previously unavailable ingredients. As might be expected, this lead to the
creation of new styles of beers.
However, the creation of these new styles was still not an intentional
end. Rather, brewers experimented with new ingredients and techniques in an
effort to make better beer that would sell. Bear in mind that the first London Porter was
not to style, if for no other reason than that the style did not exist. Then as now, the intention of every brewer
was to make good beer.
As new beers came to be accepted within a local area, they
often came to be seen as characteristic of their region of origin. Thus we came to have Welsh Bitter and London
Porter. But, again, the intention was not to create a style, but to create
something people liked. The concept of
style was the outsider’s way of delineating regional variations. This was reinforced by local consumers’
tendency to become stoutly loyal to the local product (style) and resist any
change.
In time, as beers became more available outside their region
of origin, the concept of style was created as a useful means of broadly
categorizing products and indicating similarities and differences. To this day that remains the utility of the
concept of style - a way of communicating similarities and differences to the
inexperienced.
So why has style come to be so narrowly defined by such a
large portion of beer drinkers? I am not
sure. Other than giving one the ability
to smugly state, “A good beer, BUT not to style”, I can see no utility in such
definitions. In fact, the whole concept
of rigidly defined styles is self-defeating.
By defining styles too narrowly and attempting to enforce these
definitions through criticism, contests, and the like, innovation and
creativity are restricted. Remember, the
first Stout was not to style, yet later it would become an accepted style.
What then is the upshot?
Beer style, like any other system of categorization, is an artificial
imposition from the outside. It is a
useful, if somewhat unwieldy, concept that functions well as a general guide,
but breaks down if definitions get too specific. Think about the categories on
the periodic table of the elements (metal, gas, rare earth, etc.). They are very useful in a broad sense, but
there still elements that fall between the categories. Further, if style is strictly
enforced, the creation of new styles, the beers that fall between the cracks,
will cease. So I say to you, Dear Reader, use style as a general guideline,
never forgetting that the point is to make good beer.
What is style as it pertains to beer? It would appear that, to most people, it
means a defined set of characteristics that cleave a beer to others with the
same set of characteristics and cleave it away from those that do not share that set of characteristics. To be useful, this set of defining
characteristics should be agreed upon by the vast majority, if not a consensus,
of beer enthusiasts and be easily recognizable. If only a minority agreed upon
the defining elements of a style or if these elements were so obscure as to be
beyond the ken of the majority, the style in question would have no
meaning. Thus, style is a matter of
agreed upon definition.
So why do we have beer styles? It is important to note at this time that
traditionally style was a matter of social evolution. Culture and geography would conspire and the
result was a beer style. To wit, the
brewer used whatever ingredients were available and socially acceptable within
their locality. So, at least in the
early days of brewing, style was not a matter of conscious choice. Rather, style was a matter of necessity,
massaged by society.
Thus, in its earliest form, beer style was a reflection,
perhaps even an expression, of the brewer’s geography and culture. In short, our early brewers strove to do the
best they could within their respective contextual constraints and style was
born.
The modern brewer faces far fewer limitations than his
predecessor. A brewer in Australia can easily obtain Irish Ale yeast and
a Patagonian may have Munich
malt almost at will. Ah, FedEx, making a
village of the once wide world.
A literary analogy rises here. Who is the better poet: One
working within the framework of a sonnet, or one with the freedom of blank
verse? Thence, who is the better brewer:
One toiling within the limits of place and society or one with access to a
world of ingredients? I see in this
question the makings of a philosophical great debate and shall plea a
respectful silence and return to the topic at hand.
To return, and summarize, the question of style has moved from
one of necessity to one of intent. This
is best illustrated by comparing a double (or is it now triple) IPA to a Lambic. The former is completely contrived and market
targeted, the latter is so localized and specific in ingredients as to be
nearly impossible to recreate outside its place of origin.
So what, ultimately, is a beer style? It is a means of communication. It is a way to let others know what you are
doing. If one brewer were to say to another, “This is my cream stout,”
regardless of the resultant product, the recipient has a notion the provider’s
intent. Which leads to another issue
(this slope does seem to be getting a bit slippery, does it not?)
What happens when interlocutors cannot agree upon the
elements of a style? I cringe every time
I hear the phrase, “good beer, but not to style.” This phrase is often spoken
with a certain gravity of tone that bodes ill for anyone who should produce
such a beer. Given the preceding
discussion, does such a statement have any meaning? I
would opine, no. It seems to be a bit
like saying a table with six legs is good furniture but not a table. While
styles can be seen a pseudo-platonic ideals that aid in communication, they
are, as with all ideals, open to interpretation and ultimately outside reality. So what is to be done?
The upshot here is that all any brewer can do, if they would
be true to themselves and their craft, is to use style as a starting point and
brew the best beer they can. Use what
you have, get what you can and make the best beer possible. Follow your heart. If you end up with a rauchbier, excellent, if
you create a new style, so much the better.
In the final analysis, the concept of established beer styles is most
useful as a means of exploring new possibilities. The ultimate aim is to make good beer.
