Kiss of the Hops

If You Believe champagne is the only beverage linked with revelry and romance, chances are you've never been to an Oktoberfest, Munich's annual 16-day beer frolic. But the fact that beer can generate warm and jolly sentiments is certainly no recent discovery. Man's lust for lager predates written records and may well be the most durable entente in history.

The annals are strewn with tales of beer's impact (continued on page 252)Kiss of the Hops(continued from page 145) on humankind. An Assyrian tablet of 2000 B.C. lists it among the provisions taken aboard Noah's ark. During the Middle Ages, beer became the basis for a variety of festivals. "Give ales," the block parties of their day, were fund raisers for worthy causes: wakes were called "grave ales" and "bride ales" obviously were wedding celebrations. Queen Elizabeth, who never needed a bride ale, was positively finicky about her beer--sending couriers ahead to grade the local ferments when she traveled.

English colonists brought beer and brewing techniques to the New World. Young John Alden made the Mayflower's passenger list only because of his skill at barrelmaking. A poignant entry in the ship's log reveals why the vessel stopped short of its planned destination, to land in Massachusetts. "We could not now take time for further search," it notes, "our victuals being spente, especially our beere." After getting a piece of the rock, it didn't take the Pilgrim Fathers long to remedy that situation. Accounts of the first Thanksgiving feast suggest the wild bird was sluiced down with Colonial home-brew. And during our War of Independence, General Washington--no teetotaler he--lamented the scarcity of beer for his troops.

The word beer is derived from the Latin bibere, to drink. It's a generic term embracing all fermented beverages brewed from malted grains. Over the millennia, the mash has been made from such diverse items as barley, corn, wheat, rye, rice, oats, millet, potatoes--even pumpkins and tapioca. Almost any starchy vegetable will work, but barley is the traditional grain.

Understandably, one finds differences in raw ingredients, formulations and practices, depending on where the beer is made and the objectives of the Bräumeister. But it is those variations that generate the diversity of flavor, aroma, density and appearance in beer that intrigues the dedicated buff. Nevertheless, most malt beverages can be classified under two broad headings. Lager has been the favorite of American beer drinkers since the post-bellum period. The name comes from the German lagern, to store or mature. American lagers tend to be light in body and hue, dry, bright, well carbonated and crisp. Flavor is subdued, though the darks have more taste. Effervescence is often the natural CO2 given off during fermentation, captured--and restored prior to bottling. Lagers in the Pilsen style, "Pilsners," are usually light, tangy and aromatic. Pilsner Urquell, the prototype, is highly regarded by aficionados, though neophytes might deem it too bitter.

The other major grouping, ale, was the choice in early America--reflecting England's dominance. Ales are quite aromatic and have more body and alcohol than lagers. Stout, porter and bock beer are made from deep-roasted malt; hence, the dark color and rich, malty taste. Malt liquor is a light, lagerlike brew with a robust alcohol content. And for something esoteric, try chung, the Tibetan brew made from millet or grim--a type of barley that grows at high altitudes. One small detail: You have to travel to Tibet to get it.

In the past, beer has been given the Rodney Dangerfield treatment in this country, dismissed as the aqua vitae of college kids and proletarians. But pundits can feel the winds of change. Beer is being served at such notable culinary establishments as Chicago's Le Perroquet, San Francisco's Washington Square Bar & Grill and New York's Le Vert-galant and The Four Seasons. Gourmet societies are sponsoring beer tastings, along with wine tastings, for their discriminating membership. Even more telling: Consumption of costlier premium beers, including Budweiser, Miller High Life, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Coors, Schlitz, Stroh's, Olympia and Heileman's Old Style Lager, has been growing rapidly. And we've been quaffing the lofty super-premiums such as Michelob, Andeker, Erlanger and Prior Preferred Double Dark with similar enthusiasm. Together, the two top grades account for better than 60 percent of all the beer drunk in this country.

Another augury of the gentrification of beer is the emergence of a lively new category--light beer. To be precise, it's more a matter of being born again than of being new. About 14 years ago, a light beer labeled Gablinger's was launched ... but sales went flat. By all reports, it was not a particularly inviting drink. Perhaps the current crop of light beers has more appeal, perhaps it's timing, but lights are currently going through the graph. Starting from zilch in 1975, they took off; today, one of every nine beers imbibed in the U. S. is light beer.

What's all the shouting about? Just what is light beer? Simply put, it's a lager type with a lower caloric content--roughly two thirds the amount of regular beer. As with all brewing processes, there's quite a bit of secrecy involved. Dr. Joseph Owades, director of The Center for Brewing Studies and developer of the aforementioned Gablinger's for Rheingold, suggests that four methods are in common use. A natural enzyme, derived from micro-organisms, is added by some breweries to break down grain starches into simple sugars that ferment to alcohol. Alternatively, the brewing process may be lengthened, or simple sugars that are completely fermentable may be added to the brew. The least desirable process is simply to dilute a regular beer. The object is to reduce the proportion of nonfermentable starches, which ordinarily make up about one third of the total. Alcohol, which contributes more than half the calories consumed with regular beer, is often slightly reduced as well. Stimulated by the heady success of Miller Lite, Anheuser Busch Natural Light and Michelob Light, some brewers have attempted a "light light," with only 75 calories--half that of regular beer. As a contrast, standard beers run about 150 calories per 12-ounces. Almost all light beers list calorie and carbohydrate content on the package.

At the other end of the taste spectrum from the lights are the patricians of beerdom, the imports. They're on the generous side in both body and flavor; richer, softer and zestier than domestic brews--but also more filling. Perhaps more than 100 brands from many foreign countries are available to the adventurous American beerophile. At one time, he had to search in fancy delis or specialty shops for a decent choice of imports, but these days they're stacked in the aisles and crowding the cooler in most supermarkets. Although still small in total, sales of imports have been increasing at a furious rate, despite the fact that many sell for upwards of four dollars a six-pack. There are exceptions: Canadians are much cheaper near our northern border, Mexican beers are lower in the Southwest--if you're fortunate enough to live close to either boundary. For insights into the range of import brands in the United States, see "Playboy's International Beer Sampler" on page 252.

No matter what's being poured--premiums, superprems, lights, imports--a lot of us are enjoying beer; but we might enjoy it more if we paid attention to handling and serving. While there's something to be said for chugging a can or two of stinging-cold beer after some tough tennis or a five-mile lope, that's simply assuaging a thirst. It's no way to savor the singular pleasures properly brewed beer offers. As implied, temperature is a factor. We like beer chilled in this country, but it shouldn't go lower than 40 degrees Fahrenheit for the pale amber, a bit higher for the darks. Refrigerate beer on the bottom shelf and the temperature will be about right. British and European beers can turn cloudy and precipitate their solids when overiced. For that reason, foreign brewers often modify their export products to accommodate American drinking habits.

Glasses for beer come in a variety of shapes and sizes. The tapering pilsner glass and the hollow-stemmed goblet are both attractive and graceful, though the latter may be tricky to wash. Some beer fanciers insist on a Seidel, or on a Steinkrug--a 16-ounce stoneware mug. They find its heft pleasing and appreciate the quantity it holds. Finicky types demand a covered stein, "to keep the flavor in and the flies out." But no matter what kind of container you choose, make sure it's impeccably clean. Wash glasses with detergent (never soap) and rinse them very well. Don't dry with a towel; drain on a rack, so that air circulates in the glass. A dishwasher will do the job perfectly. The pour is critical in bringing out the delightful properties of beer. There are many cherished methods, but we know this one works. First, rinse the glass with cold water, to remove stray odors and help the head form. Tilt the glass and slide beer down the side until about one third full; then straighten the glass and splash beer into the center. This should give a generous head, up to an inch and a half, so allow for that when pouring. The ultimate pour is the Hauber, a head that creams up over the top of the glass; it takes a knowing hand. Beer should be gulped, not sipped, since the essentially bitter flavor registers primarily on the taste buds at the base of the tongue, near the throat. When the glass is drained, you should see a distinct ring of foam down the side of the glass for every swallow.

Beer is perishable. If a can or a bottle of a brand you've always liked is disappointing, it may be over the hill. Since freshness is a virtue, don't lay beer down as you would wine. Most brands have a maximum shelf life of six months, so if you come across a forgotten bottle or two at the bottom of a closet, give it the deep six. Shop for beer in an outlet that does a brisk business in the brew. Dusty bottles are to be shunned. Handling and exposure to light or heat also affect quality. Like wine, beer keeps better in a cool, dark place; but unlike wine, it should stand upright so the smallest possible surface is exposed to the air immured in the bottle. Avoid shaking.

A German proverb says there's no bad beer, but some kinds are better than others. So hop to it and explore the better kinds indicated in this article with a few friends who share your tastes Cheers!