'All-Day' Beers and Usefulness as a Useful Standard.

Yesterday I spoke for a while with Mike Stevens, CEO of Founders Brewing, for an upcoming article in Draft.  While I had him on the horn, there was something else I wanted to know about: the All-Day IPA.

When I first met this beer in 2011 at the Great Taste of the Midwest, there was an iffy, experimental air about it.  It was a brewers' beer, one they had been tweaking and enjoying for a few years, and I don't think they knew if it would really take off with a public making noise for Kentucky Breakfast Stouts and the like.  On this blog I've banged the session-beer drum, mainly for selfish reasons (i.e., I want to see more of them).  But aside from a few cranky writers there has not been much evidence of any wider session beer trend.  Most of the buzz and attention has gone, and still goes, to stronger, more extreme beers or those with weird stuff in them.

Session beers are not sexy.  But maybe that's the point.

My argument has been that there appears to be money in lower-alcohol beers, if anyone cares to make it.  The country's best-selling beers are light lagers that hover around 4.2%.  Granted, they're devoid of character, but they do say something about what people find useful.  More to the point of flavorful beer--as session beers ought to be--is the popularity of wheat beers in North America.  Boulevard Wheat (4.4%) and Widmer Hefeweizen (4.7%) have paid a lot of bills.  Is it because they're made with wheat?  Or maybe it's the lemon!

Or maybe people are just, I don't know, fucking thirsty.

Now we're seeing more session-strength hoppy ales.  Founders All-Day IPA is one of the more visible ones. So, two years later, how is it doing?

"It's killing it," Steven said. "It honestly is. ... We knew we had something great there, we knew we'd have positive results, but we didn't expect the results we're seeing."

Partly by design, Founders goes for variety and lacks an obvious flagship.  Meanwhile All-Day IPA is on its way to becoming the brewery's top seller.

Not bad for a "seasonal." For now the beer is only available from March to September. It was the brewery's second-biggest seller in the year's first quarter... and it was only available in March.

"We can't make enough of it right now. It's crazy," Stevens said.  Canned 12-packs of it will arrive in July.

(And let's watch what happens with Schlafly's new IPA, available in cans and clocking in at 4.5%.  I bet it sells very well. Without lemons.)

All this happens while Founders is in the midst of a $25 million brewery expansion.  It sold 70,000 U.S. beer barrels last year and estimates 130,000 this year, as the brewery expands its distribution footprint.  A session beer is part of that success.

Funny how that seems to happen when brewers sell beers that they particularly like to drink.  People who work with beer tend to--shocking, I know--drink it often.  There is utility in reasonable strength.

"It gets more and more difficult to do these all-day promos, so a session beer was sounding really good," Stevens said.

My crazy-insane theory: a beer that is useful for a brewer tends to be useful to other working people too...  and those may be the drinkers who, aside from a few cranky writers, make the least noise.

Just a Year Old, More Props for Urban Chestnut.

Yesterday was the first birthday of Urban Chestnut in St. Louis. I drank a half-dozen or so of their beers last summer, a couple of them repeatedly. What I now tell people who say they're visiting St. Louis: Go to Urban Chestnut and drink the Zwickel.

Coincidentally, we must assume, yesterday was also the day that Ratebeer announced its annual Best awards, based on individual scores by, effectively, thousands of active raters around the world. Say what you will about their biases, but these are folks who have tasted a lot of beers from a lot of places. We can criticize the herd and its findings -- and they make a nice big target, don't they? -- but these awards are nothing if not democratic and educational.

No. 5 on the list of top new breweries in the world: Urban Chestnut. And easily making the Top 50 Best Brewpubs in the world: Urban Chestnut.

This says good things about the brewery, obviously, but also about Ratebeer. Urban Chestnut is succeeding there without the beers that stereotypically succeed there: no barrel-aged imperial stouts, yet, made from coffee passed through the intestines of Indonesian weasels (although who knows what the future holds?). Its top-rated beer is Hopfen, a heavy-on-the-Hallertauer "Bavarian IPA" that weighs in around 6% strength. The Winged Nut chestnut ale (pictured) gets high marks, but so does the hoppy Half Crown session ale (4%).

More stuff from the area: I wrote the bit in the latest Draft magazine about how St. Louis is one of the spots "Where to Drink Next." It'll likely show up on the website one of these days soon, but really shouldn't you go and subscribe? Also mentioned, besides Urban Chestnut (and I would've liked to include more): Iron Barley, Civil Life, Schlafly, the Bridge and 4 Hands. I had nothing to do with this, but across from the article is a full-page Urban Chestnut ad that says, "We're proud to be part of the St. Louis craft brewing community."

For more on that community, see my post on The Spirit of St. Louis and my article in the New York Times. Not bad for a couple of weeks "work" last summer.

Finally, a pleasant surprise: Beer Advocate has an article in its latest issue about Augusta Brewing, about 40 minutes drive southwest of St. Louis. I might have mentioned before, I pay taxes and vote in Franklin County, where Augusta is setting up its new brewhouse in the old Droege's grocery store. The store was there in Washington, Mo., since 1896, having moved from a nearby spot in 1867. I shopped there a few times, with my wife and her family. Looking forward to drinking there too.

Christmas Spirits.

OK class, if you will now all turn to Page 14 in your copies of the latest issue of DRAFT Magazine, you will see a photo very much like the one to the right. And a beernog recipe.

Brings back fond memories of a hot, swampy August night in Missouri, my mother-in-law and I quaffing nog mixed with Schlafly Imperial Stout, pulling out the antique heirloom glassware and fake holly, snapping lots of photos. The things we do for journalism.

Incidentally, the recipe got a little muddled in the presentation. It says, "Pour the beer into the snifter. Add the nog mixture and pour into serving glasses." In fact the snifter(s) ought to be the serving glass(es). I'd repeat the rest of the recipe for you, but I don't need to, since you already have the magazine. Right?

OK, fine. Just find your favorite traditional eggnog recipe, cut back on the liquor, and add some strong beer to your glass. I should note that while my recipe has evolved a bit based on others I've found and tested, the original inspiration came from Randy Mosher's Tasting Beer. In my view the "Beernog (and Other Concoctions)" section near the back was worth the cover price.

Finally: Keeping in the spirit, if you haven't already, go and read the Reluctant Scopper's cautionary Christmas Carol: "Is this how it has to end? A piss-stained relic forgotten in the corner of a churchyard where even the knell of parting day doesn't reach?" And much more.

Brewpubs, Drinking Local, Session Beer, and Tax Cuts.

In case you're still trying to work out where to take your summer vacation, the USA Today's travel section asks Andy Crouch to name 10 of the country's most interesting brewpubs. And it works in a plug for Andy's Great American Craft Beer book. So did I.

In a recent Beer Advocate column, Andy opines on craft brewers reducing their distribution rather than trying to compete in all 50 states. The Great Beer Retreat, he calls it. "We are entering a new era of craft beer, one in which selection around the country may shrink but where local beer will grow increasingly strong and entrenched roots."

Have a look at your own hometown. What do you see? In my hometown of Springfield, Mo., I see a brand spanking new brewhouse that sold 120 barrels to locals in its first two weeks. It has lots of room to expand. Now in Springfield there are people drinking craft beer who never gave it much thought before. It's easy to weigh that against a few hypothetical geeks ringing their hands over not being able to find some Dogfish Head special release. Very easy.

Three of my favorite things: St. Louis, D.C. and beer. So I was tickled to hear recently about the collaboration between Schlafly of St. Louis and three D.C.-area publicans of quality watering holes: Greg Engert of ChurchKey, Greg Jasgur of Pizza Paradiso and Sam Fitz of Meridian Pint. I was even more tickled to learn that the collaboration was a 4.2% abv dry-hopped pale ale called House in Session. The idea is to raise awareness about proposed cuts in excise taxes that would make life easier on smaller brewers. More info on that from the Brewers Association, if you're interested.

Yes, craft brewers lobby for handouts just like everyone else. At first glance it would appear to be a positive thing for drinkers as well, possibly leading to wider choice and (dare we hope?) lower prices. Here's more knowledge from the Washington City Paper.

Farm Beers. And Smoked Pig.

Farm beers. That's what we call a good many of our homebrews around here, even though we don't live on a farm. We do live near farms. Lots of them. We see the gardener across the road riding his mare to work. We see cows grazing in the ditch on the side of the road. OK, so we live in a condominium. Doesn't matter. We make farm beers. Since I'm in charge of the our homebrew marketing department, it doesn't have to make sense.

Here's the thing: As much as I love Belgian saison and French biére de garde, I'm neither Belgian nor French. Anyway, fancy French words sound pretentious to those with whom I share my beer. For that matter, even the term farmhouse ale is a bit uppity and unfairly excludes lager. Well, why not a farm lager?

What makes me think of all this is an announcement from Crown Valley in Ste. Genevieve, Missouri. Two new beers: a double IPA called Gunslinger, and a 4.7% abv Farmhouse Lager. See? Farm lager.

Maybe I'll be able to track those two down when I'm in Missouri this summer. If you're looking to try out Crown Valley beers in an appropriate setting, and you can't get to Ste. Genevieve, might I suggest Cuba?

Specifically: Missouri Hick BBQ in Cuba, Mo., right on historic Route 66. And if I'm going to get so specific, why not go on and specify Crown Valley's Black Cabin Smoked Ale with some pulled pork?

When we were there every bottle of beer in the joint cost $3 each. Options included several from Boulevard, Schlafly, Goose Island, New Belgium and Crown Valley. The barbecue itself is worth a long drive, but if you're trucking down I-44 between St. Louis and Springfield, well, it's right there.

There's Fresh Beer at Arenal, Kegs in the Valle Central, and Plans in El Salvador.

Lots of newsy news today from everybody's favorite craft beer destination, Central America. Dig it.

First: A surprise message this morning from George Lin, the brewer and partner at Volcano Brew. At loooooong last, there is craft beer there. For real. The long-awaited load of malt showed up three weeks ago and George wasted no time. Now on draft at Hotel Tilawa, overlooking scenic Lake Arenal, are a Beach Pale Ale and a fruity Hefeweizen. And by the way, peak windsurfing season is approaching.

I've written some about Volcano Brew, but mostly I've held off. I didn't want to call too much attention to them before they were really, really ready. It appears that moment has come. Congratulations to George and Jean Paul Cazedessus, George's partner and the hotel's owner. That's them in the photo (J.P. on the left, George on the right). They're interesting dudes and Tilawa is a unique place, to say the least, so expect to hear more about them soon.

Second, an update on Costa Rica's Craft Brewing: Co-owner Brandon Nappy tells me that they're having more success than expected at selling draft beer accounts. This is bigger news that you might think, since draft beer is a real rarity here. There will be some education involved, on maintenance, pouring, glassware, and so on. I'm really looking forward to sitting at a couple of these local places and watching this whole foreign process--what, drink beer from a glass?--in action.

Anyway, choosy bars and restaurants dotted around the Central Valley might start serving CRC golden and pale ales on draft as soon as the first week of December. If I can, I'll share info about where exactly to find it when the time comes. So stay tuned, bebedores.

Finally: El Salvador may get its first brewpub early next year. David Falkenstein is a Salvadoran homebrewer who's preparing to go pro. He's brushing up on his craft and working through red tape to launch a new micro in, theoretically, March or April 2011.

The idea is to attach the micro to an existing and successful pub, the name of which I've been asked to keep mum on for now. Interestingly, David married a gal from St. Louis and learns from the brewers at Schlafly and Morgan Street when he's in town. He's also part of a dedicated group of beer geeks in San Salvador. These guys lug home suitcases full of bottles, malt, hops and yeast whenever they travel. Should be some interesting beers coming out of there, eventually.

That's plenty for now.

One Thing That Stables and Breweries Have In Common Is that People Always Say They 'Smell Like Money.'

This impressive chandelier hangs over an equally impressive bar -- the sort of carved wooden beauty that can still be found in many St. Louis pubs -- at the Stable, just south of AB InBev HQ. In fact the Stable's restored home is where the Lemp Brewery's draft horses once were kept. There is a distinct turn-of-the-century feel to the place. I love to think about that period in the middle to late 1800s when German-run lager breweries would have dotted the city. Here it takes less imagination.

The Stable's brewery operation is called Amalgamated and concentrates on full-flavored German-style lagers. Having a Helles on the list did not surprise me. A Zoigl, on the other hand... bready and zesty and disappearing from my glass far too quickly. Best of all, truly sessionable at 4.4% abv. Another surprise nominee for Perfect American Beer According to Me.

There is also a micro-distillery operation here but it was so damn hot that day I think a taste of hard liquor never even crossed our minds. Especially when faced with an interesting list of 36 taps featuring a summery emphasis on IPAs. I can't recommend the food but the ambiance, suds and vintage pinball games... big thumbs up. If you're on a beer trip to St. Louis then visit here in the afternoon before going to eat at the Bridge or Schlafly Tap Room.

Moving on: We've left the Gateway to the West and are just plain old West now. As I write this I'm looking out a picture window at the Grand Tetons. Jackson Hole. Totally impressed by Snake River Brewing, by the way. More on all that later. Tomorrow we're in Yellowstone watching for those telltale clumps of tourists pulled by the side of the road, signifying wildlife photo opportunity. Thirsty work, I expect.

Boring Old Dads Blamed for Long Slump in STL Beer Scene.

There have always been a bunch of good places to drink in St. Louis. Like baseball, diner food, and de facto segregation, drinking is just one of those things at which the city excels. It has a certain brewing history, as you might have heard. Its waves of immigrants over the years have included plenty of thirsty Germans, Irish and Czechs, among others. These days microbreweries are popping up like dandelions, and micro-distilleries are increasingly common.

So St. Louis has never lacked for drinking. It's just that, up until a few years ago let's say, it lacked for options. It was more or less a one-brewery town. And these days? Well, it's still pretty much a one-brewery town -- Schlafly is a popular alternative but still holds only a tiny fraction of the market compared to A-B Inbev.

But there are a growing handful of beer-geek haunts, not to mention craft beers creeping rapidly into what used to be Bud-only bars and restaurants.

"There's just a younger generation coming in, saying I don't want to drink what my father drank," said Mike Sweeney, who runs the popular and useful STL Hops website for local enthusiasts.

Meanwhile Dylan Mosley, longtime barman at the beer-savvy 33 Wine Bar, noted that St. Louis was littered with microbreweries more than 100 years ago. "There's kind of this mentality that your dad sucks but your grandpa's awesome."

Now I will stick up for dads. Obviously the lack of options for most of the 20th Century was not really our dads' fault. There are some fun and tasty cultural shifts taking place with food -- or with flavor, let's say -- and craft beer has come along for the ride. The latest numbers say that craft beer sales were up 12 percent the first six months of this year, compared to the same time last year.

And for the record, my dad now keeps a secret stash of Schneider Aventinus in his garage. That only started a few years ago.

Speaking of Aventinus, it was one of the 40 well-chosen beers on draft when we visited the new International Tap House in Soulard. Exactly the sort of place that didn't exist when I lived in that neighborhood 10 years ago. Stay tuned for posts on a few other must-visit spots in town.

Getting Schooled by the Fish.

From what I can tell, prolific draft and bottle lists are multiplying like bunny rabbits in big American cities these days. Which is cool. But when you find a place like John G's Bier Deck in a town like Washington, Missouri... Well, a man sleeps easier at night. It seems like everyone's well looked-after these days.

At the end of a hot-as-hell summer day it's hard to beat a hoppy glass of gold and a sweeping view of the Missouri River. There are usually 12 draft options and about twice as many bottles, and that's frankly all you need. Especially when there is strength in locally made beers, such as Schlafly of St. Louis and the excellent German-style lagers of Tin Mill in Hermann. Meanwhile John G's is a showcase for the beers of nearby Augusta Brewing, which only makes sense since they're owned by the same folks. More about them pretty soon.

My glass of gold is the Trout Slayer, my next nominee for Perfect American Beer.* It's got enough hop aroma, quaffability, and bright beauty that I can forgive it for being a filtered wheat beer. Like sausage, I don't always want to know how it's made. And at 4.7% strength it's got some usefulness.

You might not think Trout Slayer is a local beer here, and you'd be right. But it's all relative. Lewis and Clark passed right by this spot and went on to meet Indians in the Missoula Valley. Montana is just up the river. Shoot, their trout and ours are probably cousins.

*I've decided that the words "sessionable" and "craft" are implied in the word "perfect" and therefore redundant.

Turns Out You Can Dance at Every Wedding.

Still in Missouri. Homebrewing, eating juicy steaks and witnessing marriages.

The beery highlight, if you're interested, has been tasting the crisp, dry saison I cooked with my brother a few months ago. In the meantime we whipped up a batch of smoked porter. A close second goes to the Two-Hearted Ale I sipped yesterday in Columbia with some Shakespeare's, still the best pizza in the world and a solid beer selection to boot. Too bad our Tigers let us down. And then there was the open-beer-bar wedding reception at Schlafly's. Which was too short.

I'll be back in Belgium in a couple of days, and this site will reanimate. See you then.

The Tin Mill: Proudly Bottom-Fermenting in Middle Missouri.

I'll be back home for a wedding next week. So Missouri and marriage are on my mind, besides Oktoberfest.

By the way, if you're in Missouri and want a taste of Oktoberfest, there's only one place to go: Hermann. Every weekend in October, a good chunk of the state descends on this little town to fully partake of its many wineries and solitary brewery. That brewery is a relatively recent development, and its name is the Tin Mill.

Housed in a former MFA feed store, the Tin Mill has an unusual mission: brew only the finest German-style lagers. Forget ales, there are enough of them in brewpubs across the country. Besides that, here is a town extremely proud of its German roots. A local microbrewery devoted to the Reinheitsgebot is just too perfect.

The good news: Its beers are mighty tasty. The Missus and I visited in June and tasted a few. Our favorite was the Tin Mill Pilsner – floral, grainy, crisply bitter and dry. I want some right now.

Hermann, by the way, is the same town where my wife and I got married. See how I bring it full circle? Too bad Tin Mill wasn't around then. Our families would have demolished several kegs of the stuff.

No, the wedding next week isn't in Hermann. It's in St. Louis. I won't complain: The reception is at the Schlafly Tap Room. Sorry, you're not invited.