Beer: The Froth of July

By Stefan Kanfer

The Mayflower's destination was Virginia; instead, the boat pulled up at Plymouth, Mass. A passenger's journal for Dec. 19, 1620, explains: "We could not now take time for further search or consideration; our victuals being much spent, especially our beer ..." On July 4, Americans will continue that tradition: when the brew runs out, the revels will be ended.

For the true brew fancier, amber waves of grain mean only one thing: the chief ingredient of beer. Hard-bitten guzzlers find that nothing quenches as happily as the kind that comes straight from the barrel. It can be found on draft, at taverns--the places Patrick Henry called "cradles of liberty." So they still are, only now the liberty is freedom of choice. There, across the stretches of mahogany are pump handles gleaming with the promise of alchemy. Somewhere at the other end of the pipe, malt, hops and yeast have been transformed into a series of heady potions.

There is lager, that aged beer, redolent of malt and yeast, as cold as a riverbed and as hearty as an anthem. Or ale, with an aroma the patron can walk on. Or porter and stout, those distinct dark ales with creamy heads and the personality of Irish storytellers. Or bock beer, with its heady perfume and heavy persuasive taste. Or malt liquor--but the list is endless.

At any gathering of beer fanciers, debates can be ignited with the mere mention of such diversity, or even of container styles. There are those who prefer the drink in cans--particularly the easy-opening pop toppers. Consumed from the can, the beer retains its coldness longer, and the rush of bubbles on the palate is accompanied by a pleasant steely feel around the mouth. Others find opening a glass bottle a happy reminder of the 16th century dean of St. Paul's who discovered that beer can be kept for long periods in stoppered bottles. He abandoned a full one in a riverside, then returned to find "no bottle, but a gun, so great was the sound at the opening thereof." He also found a better beverage.

Those who prefer martinis or soft drinks think beer drinkers are just a bunch of mugs. In fact, the true beer drinker is just as great a connoisseur as any sampler of Chateau Lafite. Beer tastings are a commonplace in almost every town that offers more than one beer to have when you're having more than one. In addition to domestic products, consumers check out the great German and Dutch prizewinners (some 6,000 local brews are available in those beer-loving nations), the Czech Pilsner, which many consider the world's finest, plus imports from the Far East, Mexico and Australia.

Some beer drinkers recall the days of repeal, when there were 700 American breweries; now there are only 48. If trends continue, the top five companies (AnheuserBusch, Schlitz, Miller, Pabst and Coors) will have about 85% of the beer market by 1985. Traditionalists are full of memories of things Pabst, and no newfangled "light" beer with fewer calories and indistinct taste will substitute for the Real Thing. Those who like the lighter brews are quick to criticize the weighty liquids that they equate with mud.

Still, when beer is criticized, its aficionados close ranks. Their standards are like no others. After all, the soft drinker is only looking for sweetness and a slaked thirst. The serious drinker is seeking an altered state of consciousness.

The malt-and-hops crowd are something else: fresh from tennis or raucous cheering from the sidelines or weary from a long day's work, they seek a mild high and an infusion of cold, gratifying liquid. Their first beer is not sipped from the edge of the glass. It is poured down a parched throat, gratifying the whole body, not merely the palate.

That thirst seems to be growing more powerful with each succeeding year, and this should prove the nation's greatest froth of July. "We have to have extra shipments in the spring to handle the huge summer demand," says Chester Gardner, spokesman for the U.S. Brewers Association. "More Americans are drinking beer than ever before." Per capita consumption this year is expected to be 22 gal., a jump of almost 25% in the last decade.

This annual 4.8 billion-gallon guzzle is no longer a blue-collar thing. Women consume about 36% of the beer in the country, and the drink is replacing martinis in some of the best executive clubs. Some of the time, that beer is indeed the low-calorie brew that has given the industry new fizz. Though big companies like Miller, Schlitz and Anheuser-Busch have enthusiastically entered the light-beer market, the intense rivalry for new consumers, plus the cost of manufacturing the new brew, keeps profit margins low.

Still, for this holiday, the range of flavor, bouquet and hue remains as bountiful as the nation. In The Taster's Guide to Beer (Macmillan), Michael A. Weiner lists 187 different ales, stouts and beers, most of them available in any major city. Weiner also assures the consumer that beer is more relaxing than intoxicating (no more than 6% alcohol), less caloric than cola (144 calories per 12 oz. of lager), contains no fat and has an assortment of B vitamins.

True quaff men -- and women -- need no such encouragement. They know, as A.E. Housman did, that "Malt does more than Milton can to justify God's ways to man," that the July fourth doubleheader requires beer almost as much as it does bats, that picnics on the grass, family outings, earnest conversations on city park benches -- all the classic holiday activities -- need to be viewed through a glass lightly. There may be a paucity of manufacturers, but there is no dearth of consumers who offer three cheers for the red, white and brew.

Stefan Kanfer

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