Second only to its love of David Hasselhoff, the German affinity for its Reinheitsgebot boggles the minds of foreign visitors. Born as a cross between a taxation law and a means for protecting bakers’ ingredients, the Reinheitsgebot (literally translated as ‘purity regulation’ or ‘requirement’) has long been a dominating influence on the German beer scene. German brewers and drinkers alike proudly point to the regulation as de facto proof that their beer is the best in the world. The history, meaning, and practical effect of the historic regulation, however, are not so clear. In reality, the Reinheitsgebot is a confounding, convoluted, and even antiquated concept, the complexities of which the local German brewers don’t even appear to quite understand.

The earliest version of the Reinheitsgebot first appeared in the city of Munich in 1447 when the city council issued an ordinance asking all brewers to use only barley, hops, and water in brewing. Forty years later, Bavarian Duke Albrecht IV compelled local brewers to pledge support for the ‘purity’ ordinance. By 1516, the Reinheitsgebot had been extended to all of the then-defined state of Bavaria and it (with the addition of the newly discovered ingredient of yeast) would later be extended throughout the nation. The purity law dominated the German brewing scene until 1987, when the European Court of Justice struck down the provisions of the law which barred foreign brewers from marketing their non-compliant offerings as ‘beer’ in Germany.

While the landmark decision allowed foreign brewers to freely move their beers inside of Germany, the case was not the last word for German brewers. When you ask whether the purity regulation still governs their actions, German brewers tend to give mixed responses. Almost all brewers claim that the Reinheitsgebot remains the governing law, with some even suggesting that there are criminal penalties for violating it. While a handful of the republic’s more than 1200 brewers might privately tell you that the purity law no longer governs their businesses, none would dare speak such blasphemy in public.

A debate over the Reinheitsgebot can raise the ire of ardent German beer enthusiasts. Supporters point to the glory of a zesty German-style pilsner or the grandeur of a luscious maibock as proof of the value of the purity law. To these dedicated souls, anything that suggests tampering with these brewing treasures and their traditions is heresy. And there is no denying that the country’s reputation for excellent beers and its revered brewing traditions have in part been preserved by the country’s identification with and dedication to the purity regulation.

Despite its ties to tradition, the purity law has also served to stifle German creativity and provided harbor for some unfortunate misconceptions about beer. The uniform party line approach of German brewers has led both locals and foreign drinkers to propagate the myth that the Reinheitsgebot is what makes German beer ‘good’ and that any beers not made in accordance with its rigid rules are somehow inferior. Brewing in accordance with the Reinheitsgebot, however, is no guarantee of quality and as any imbibing traveler in Germany can attest, the country has its fair share of flawed beer. German brewers are not immune from the temptation to cut corners on maturation times or ingredient qualities, all while staying within the four corners of the purity law.

At its core, the purity law is built upon a faulty premise, namely that quality beer can only consist of three to four standardized ingredients. Strict adherence to this errant brewing ideology has caused German brewers, known for their technical savvy and innovative dexterity, to largely miss the craft brewing revolution. The explosion of brewing creativity spreading in countries, including Japan, Denmark, and Italy, which are unencumbered by such restrictive and outmoded regulations, has near completely bypassed the historically handcuffed German brewers.

In all fairness, the Reinheitsgebot is not the only obstacle to a revolution of new flavors in Germany. The nation’s beer drinkers are notoriously parochial in their selections and their reluctance to try new styles is legend among German brewers. A pass by a café during the lunch hour or a beer hall after work leaves you with the distinct impression that the German people like their just as it is. While German brewers could certainly produce a tongue blistering IPA safely within the confines of the Reinheitsgebot, they resolutely believe that their customers wouldn’t drink the stuff.

It is impossible, however, to ignore the irony of the Reinheitsgebot’s role in shaping the brewing nation’s hardened views. In the days before the spread of the purity law, the less politically powerful brewers of Northern Germany are said to have created dozens of once popular but no extinct beer styles, including spiced and fruit-flavored offerings. While paying homage to German brewing history is an honorable pursuit, expanding the brewing flavor palette beyond mere hops and barley would actually bring German brewers closer to their roots.

–Article appeared in Volume II, Issue I of BeerAdvocate Magazine

The end of the year is always a time for self-reflection, a time for people to stop and consider how they’ve lived their lives over the previous twelve months. While pondering whether to quit that crappy job you hate (yes) or spend more time with the family (also yes), it’s also a good time to take a moment to consider your relationship with beer.

Over the last year, I’ve focused several columns on how the beer industry can improve its performance and better treat its customers. To quickly recap: adopt freshness dating, maintain fair pricing, and print up beer menus. Now it’s time to turn the tables and tell beer drinkers how they can be improve as patrons of good beer. Here are some beer resolutions to make you a better beer drinker in the New Year.

Drink with an open mind and mouth. Tucked deep down in our personalities, in a place where we don’t like to dwell, we are all stubborn people who hold views that aren’t easily swayed. This year is the time to tackle some of your common beer prejudices. First, try five or ten examples of a style you think you hate. Every beer drinker, no matter how hard core, has a few styles they can’t stand. I’m not a coffee drinker and don’t particularly enjoy roasted flavors so I once avoided porters. A few years ago, however, I forced myself to try porters when they were available and something changed. While I still don’t drink coffee, I’ve come to adore Berkshire Brewing Company’s Coffeehouse Porter and believe it to be one of New England’s best beers. The experience gave me a newfound respect for this classic style.

Let your palate be your guide and don’t judge a beer by who brews it. Bashing the big brewers is a tired and out-dated way of thinking. While big brewery representatives sometimes defensively sniff that craft beer is a fad, their operations can be forces of good that spread the word of better beer. It’s hard to argue that the Coors Brewing Company’s Blue Moon Belgian White product has not brought regular beer drinkers into the outer folds of the better beer segment. And when a brewery like Coors treats its flavorful beer products with respect, it’s a win-win for better beer fans. With this said, it is equally important that consumers and writers be ready to take big breweries to task when they don’t treat beer with respect.

Don’t (exclusively) worship at the altar of big beers. Big can be beautiful but it is not always better. There is no question that the extreme beer phenomenon has led to a gradual shift in the collective palates of beer drinkers. Alcohol levels on average, even in flagship pale ales and ambers, have slowly risen in recent years. While beer geeks are crazy for hop, malt, and alcohol bombs, their rise in popularity has caused a loss of perspective. There is much beauty and complexity to be tasted and appreciated in smaller, session beers that don’t ruin your palate after a few sips. Make a point to try the lowest alcohol beers at your local pub and see what you’re missing.

Travel is important. With very few exceptions, beer is best enjoyed closest to where it’s made and in the presence of the kind souls who make it. While your local beer store probably carries products from around the world, don’t let complacency sit in. Arm-chair beer drinking, while relaxing, is no substitute for experiencing beer at the source.

Don’t be a ticker. Far from a solitary beverage, beer at its heart is a sociable drink that calls out for the company of fellow comrades. Note taking is fine and can help build your vocabulary and shape your knowledge about tasting. But remember, it’s ok to occasionally lift your head out of your notebook and clink glasses with your friends.

Don’t let beer websites or competitions tell you which beers you enjoy. As a corollary to the ticker resolution, beer rating websites, including BeerAdvocate.com, and judging competitions, including the Great American Beer Festival, are not the final word when it comes to beer. If beer judges or fellow users don’t like your favorite beer, don’t sweat it. These helpful resources, and others like them, are not bibles but mere tools to use on your beer explorations. And remember, not all competitions are created equally. Every brewery can dust off a medal or award somewhere. As always, let your own palate be your guide.

As we look back on 2007, it’s clear that craft beer’s reign of terror continues and will not “fade” anytime soon, as one beer industry recently suggested. But consumers, as the foot soldiers of the better beer movement, need to do to do their parts to ensure that flavorful, fresh pints keep flowing freely from the taps.

Article appeared in January 2008 issue of BeerAdvocate Magazine.

It’s time for a beer pop quiz. What do Brewery Ommegang, Mendocino Brewing, and Yuengling have in common with Anheuser-Busch, Miller, and Coors? Alright, pencils down. If you answered that none of them are craft brewers, then congratulations on winning your beer geek merit badge.

Americans love to define things, drawing lines between themselves and their chosen groups, to the exclusion of others. The same attitude has slowly crept into the beer industry. From the earliest days of microbreweries, an upstart generation of brewers wanted to distinguish themselves from the large, corporate breweries. As the new brewers’ beers were clearly different from homogenized American lagers, their goal made some sense.

In trying to inform the public about their new beers, brewers quickly learned the public relations value of giving a name to their efforts. Despite agreement on this point, the brewers could never agree on the right phrasing. Were they boutique, cottage, artisanal, or specialty breweries? Due to their small size, many brewers identified themselves as ‘microbrewers.’ After restricting membership to breweries that produced fewer than 3000 barrels a year, the microbrewers quickly realized that success was eventually going to force some people out of the club. Despite increasing the production limit to ten and then fifteen-thousand barrels, the stunning growth of the 1990s burned the microbrewers’ first clubhouse to the ground.

A decade after abandoning ‘microbrewer’ in favor of ‘craft brewer,’ brewers are still arguing over what the latter means. This existential debate recently took on new life when the Brewers Association’s governing board established that an “American craft brewer is small, independent and traditional.” While few complained about the small and traditional components, a budding controversy centered on the association’s definition of ‘independent,’ which requires that less than 25-percent of the brewery be owned or controlled by a beverage alcohol company that is not itself a craft brewer. Suddenly, breweries such as Ommegang and Mendocino (owned by foreign breweries), Leinenkugel’s (owned by Miller), and Widmer, Redhook, Goose Island, and Old Dominion (partly owned by Anheuser-Busch) no longer qualified as craft brewers.

While outcast breweries and a handful of their supporters complained, many craft brewers didn’t see much of a reason to object. Some believed that the breweries that partnered with larger breweries had turned their backs on the craft beer movement, while others simply didn’t care about a dispute over labels. For its part, the Brewers Association believed the definition was necessary to protect the legislative and economic interests of its members.

For the brewers, writers, and consumers who reject the Brewers Association’s controversial definition, the craft beer industry’s identity crisis remains a difficult subject to tackle. For one, what other definition can we fashion to decide which breweries qualify as craft breweries? When consumers talk about craft beer, they generally mean beers produced by someone other than the big three. The value of the craft label quickly degrades, however, when applied to imported beers, such as Bass, Guinness, Hoegaarden, and Franziskaner, which are also brewed by corporate behemoths. Alternatively, how do we decide when a brewer stops being ‘craft’? Should we exclude the craft breweries manned by stuffed shirt, corporate types who do nothing but churn out thousands of barrels of bland pale and amber ales?

These questions are only going to grow more difficult to answer in the coming years. Can Boston Beer or Sierra Nevada still be considered ‘small’ when they exceed the two million barrel mark? Is there a difference between Full Sail Brewing, which brews beers for Miller and has accepted money from the brewing giant to update its facilities, and those craft breweries that enter into partnership deals with larger breweries? And what about the full flavored beers produced by the big brewers? While many consumers and enthusiasts deny that such beers qualify as craft, I’d bet money that they couldn’t single out the Michelob Porter, Miller 1880 Barley Wine, or Coors Barmen Pilsner as pariahs in a blind tasting.

In a conciliatory gesture, some brewers believe that we should call these products ‘better beers.’ But better than what, American premium lagers of Bud, Miller, and Coors? This awkward phrasing sounds a lot like a twist on Potter Stewart’s opinion on pornography, “I know a better beer when I taste it.”

In the end, the argument over which breweries qualify as craft is as pointless as debating whether somebody is punk enough to be punk rock. When beer develops into a game of us versus them, then the craft label becomes a meaningless political term. Instead of constantly redefining membership terms, we should focus more on the quality of the flavors and aromas in our pints and less on classifying the breweries that make them.

Article appeared in November 2007 issue of BeerAdvocate Magazine.