The other day I broke from my normal beer buying habits and sprang for a more potent, more hops-laden India Pale Ale (IPA) that was also a bit pricier. The clerk at the cash register recognized the change in my routine and congratulated me on my “taking a step up.”
I was a little taken aback. I wasn’t abandoning my tried-and-true favorites, just branching out a bit, and while I was edified that the clerk approved of my purchase, what did this statement mean about the other swill I’m used to buying? I debated whether I ought to light-heartedly tell him to fuck off and keep his opinions to himself, but instead I laughed meekly, only to sulk about a better comeback for another day.
Beer snobbery. God knows I suffer from it, but what an unappealing trait in others!
The following day it was my turn to stick my nose in the air. There was a note from my mailman in my mailbox. He’d read some of my other beer reporting, and he recommended, “You should try Red Racer (not to be confused with Racer 5), if you haven’t already. It’s from British Columbia… available at Whole Foods. Your fellow hop-head, Dave the Mailman.”
Dave’s not someone who would typically steer me wrong, but I’d seen Red Racer at the River Valley Market, and it stood out in my memory as being the first $10 six-pack that came in cans. Cans.
Sure, over the years I’ve accepted the odd beer in a can—a Bud handed my way on a deck, dripping ice from someone else’s cooler; a frosty can emptied while watching holiday football with the in-laws, uncles and cousins—but it has been a very long time since canned beer occupied any space in my fridge. Still, it’s not often someone goes out of their way to recommend a beer, let alone Dave the Mailman. So, trying to bury my beer can bigotry, I cut out of work half an hour early to see if I could grab a six-pack at the Market.
The space on the shelf for Red Racer was empty, but another canned IPA from the 21st Amendment Brewery in Minnesota came in a slick, silver cardboard box. So as not to return home empty-handed (and have wasted precious company time), I picked up a six of that.
Of the four canned beers I debased myself for in reporting this article, their Brew Free! Or Die IPA had the most balanced, satisfying taste and finish. It was a clean blast of flavor, not challenging, and went down dry and refreshing. Brisk, not sweet.
When I saw Dave the Mailman a few days later, I told him how I’d tried and failed to get the Red Racer. He recommended Dale’s Pale Ale, also in a can, from Oskar Blues Brewing in Colorado, available at Liquors 44 and other local establishments. Though not officially an IPA, as the can states, it’s “a huge voluminously hopped mutha of a pale ale.” Still, Red Racer IPA was the beer discovery he remained most excited about.
So over the river I went for beer, and I found both Red Racer IPA and Dale’s Pale Ale available at Whole Foods for a bit more than I could have gotten if I’d timed my River Market Valley visits better. Both cans of beer were rewarding, and much as had been promised.
The bright green can, with a girl on a red rider bicycle, wind in her hair and garters showing, is as brash and ripe as the beer inside. Poured into the glass, it’s a deep red, and a thick head develops quickly. The hops are pungent and the beer is full of complex citrus flavors; I went through the six-pack slowly, enjoying each can, wary of missing everything going on.
The hops bite in Dale’s Pale Ale is much more elusive than in real IPAs; it’s in the back of the palate, in the refreshing aftertaste. This six disappeared quickly, though I had to look at my notes to remember what I thought about it.
To round things out for this in-depth report on hoppy canned beers available in the Five College area, I returned to a beer I’d tried a year or so ago but didn’t love: Snapperhead IPA, brewed by Butternuts Beer & Ale in Garrattsville, N.Y. The can features a monster green fish with headphones swimming against a piss-yellow background. As I remembered it, the initial burst of flavor that hits your tongue is that of a mildly hoppy IPA, but something is not right. As the beer washes down your gullet, an oddly unpleasant buttery aftertaste takes over, as if the “smooth finish” were greased. Further testing and corroborating testimony from Dave confirmed the analysis.
While that particular beer was less than pleasant, none of the four I tried tasted metallic; whether or not I liked it, the beers tasted uniformly fresh and flavorful. Not right from the tap, but as good or better than bottles I’ve had.
The Oskar Blues Brewery, maker of Dale’s, serves up a whole host of other interesting beers (I’ve been intrigued, but also intimidated by their Gubna Imperial IPA at $4.50 per can), and on their site (oskarblues.com/about-us/can-benefits) they also offer a solid defense of distributing beer in cans:
“Unlike beer cans of the past, today’s aluminum can and its lid are lined with a water-based coating. Beer and metal never touch and there is no exchange of flavor. Aluminum cans keep beer fresher for longer by fully eliminating the damages of light and ingressed oxygen. Lightweight cans enable Oskar Blues to reduce its fuel costs and carbon footprint for shipped beer by 35 percent. Highly portable, unbreakable cans enable craft beer lovers to easily enjoy great beer in places where glass bottles are not welcome or allowed: the beach, pool, boat, trail, river, slope, tub, golf course, backpack and others. Cans are the most easily and frequently recycled beverage package in the world.”
Drinking local beer as directly from the spout as possible is still the most green and righteous way to imbibe, but if you’re thinking of a packaged beer, you might reconsider cans. Dave the Mailman certainly wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
