60 Cycle Hum

The dark side has turned amber.

Like many other beer people, there are several reasons why I don’t like Budweiser. It’s ubiquitous, tasteless, and breaks one of the sacred covenants of brewing by using rice in its production process, rather than sticking strictly to malted barley. Also, I can’t say that Bud’s recent associations with “Joe Sixpack” have helped my overall impression of the St. Louis icon, either.

That said, I’ve never felt so personally courted by Big Beer. After seeing American Ale advertised heavily on Slate, This American Life, and other arugula-friendly sources, I knew American Ale had been designed for exactly my demographic. I had to give it a try.At New Haven’s ever-classy Hollywood Liquor, where a prominent outdoor sign screams, “24 oz. Natural Ice cans — 1.09 out the door!”, a six-pack set me back 7.99.  Sure, American Ale not be as cheap as Natty, but it’s about a buck less than any microbrew, which leads me to believe that Bud is trying to make this the “Recession Special” of the craft beer market.

When I uncapped my first brew, I immediately noticed American Ale’s unusual bottle shape, which may best be described as broad-shouldered. (I’ll enjoy reusing these for my homebrews, but more on that later.) The pour was smooth, with a nice inch of goldish head to top it off. The label advertises the use of “Cascade hops from the Pacific Northwest”, and they’re definitely in the aroma. Unfortunately, most of the hop character is hidden under the amber malt–this is no Sierra Nevada. The first sip was pleasant, but again, the hops failed to come through. It’s not a bitter beer, not sweet either. Would be a perfect complement to a burger and fries, but it didn’t have enough character to stand on its own. And, unfortunately, its most defining characteristic was its mediocrity.

But what did I expect? Big Beer is marketing not to hopheads, not to beer nuts, but to the middle of the road beer swiller. They need to please the most people possible without turning anyone off. In that, they succeeded, but there’s no way I’ll opt for American Ale over Sam Adams any day. And that’s really Anheuser-Busch’s competition here–a widely available craft brew. Even under new ownership, Anheuser-Busch is  unwilling to take chances because their most valuable asset is their legacy. After years on top, the King of Beers is expected to lead with a steady hand, but craft brewers like Sam Adam’s Jim Koch are free to experiment to their heart’s content. Bud is the establishment; Koch was a revolutionary from the start. Reliability defines Bud; quality defines Sam Adams.

Bud American Ale is certainly a step in the right direction, but it’s a baby-step. Let’s hope the King’s next move is a giant leap.