GABF – Are you prepared?

I judged around 150 beers in seventeen categories over three days and roughly 24 hours of table judging. I was paired with judges from around the country, and even some international judges. Minnesota, California, Nevada, Spain, and of course some local Colorado judges.

Categories like Field Beer, Kellerbier/Zwickelbier, American Amber/Red Ale, Juicy or Hazy Pale, Dortmunder or German-Style Oktoberfest, Bohemian Pilsner, International Dark Lager and more.

I learned quite a bit judging the GABF, and I came away impressed, along with some newfound ideas and perspectives.

First off, this was an exhausting endeavor. Other than a three hour work period on night two, I basically didn't do anything of value outside of judging over these three days. Many out of town judges will visit local destination breweries, and there are some organized group activities after judging (usually at local breweries), but I refrained from those.

Despite the heavy load, the palate held up. I felt like I could taste very well throughout the three days. The combination of plenty of water, short breaks between most flights and fairly bland lunches served to us (purposefully bland, I believe. I didn't hear other judges complaining about palate fatigue either. Plenty of the people I judged with have been evaluating beer for decades, and 75% of the judges had judged GABF before.

At the Kellerbier round, an older judge was reviewing the style guidelines before our beers came out. She remarked how she felt it was inaccurate that they allowed for some late hopping/dry hopping, the latter specifically, since the Germans don't dry hop. I chimed in, naming a couple of beers that I know are dry hopped in Germany, and from classic breweries too (like Augustiner Pils, a very subtle, light dry hop).

In the next few minutes, I learned that she lived in Bamberg for three years, working for Weyermann. Another judge at the table had lived about forty five minutes from there too. A third judge had visited multiple times and done a bike tour there. The fourth judge had also visited multiple times. These weren't novices, and I quickly thought that I'd have to make sure I am contributing something of value if I'm going to be in a discussion, otherwise maybe I should just ask questions and listen. Luckily, what I said was accurate, so I didn't make a fool of myself, but it just reminded me to be especially on point with my words here.

This may be obvious, but it was never more evident than when we judged that Kellerbier/Zwickel category. Kellerbier/Zwickel is basically unfiltered, fresh beer. This category allowed for ale and lager, in the German style (though Czech lagers were apparently allowed too). The problem is, entries need to be bottled and turned in 3-4 weeks prior to judging. This is fine for most beer styles, but for this style, which is usually served off the tank, from a barrel or a small keg, it's an impossible task. It would be like asking people to bottle their English cask ales and ship them over for judging. As a result, most beers didn't have that vibrant, unfiltered fresh bready, lightly estery type character. Most were completely clear. Those are not the attributes you'd expect from that style.

Most evaluations that I do use the BJCP style guidelines. They are a fantastic resource, and interesting to read if you're into beer, even if you're not a judge. I read them years before I became a judge, it got me interested in trying new styles, in understanding some of my favorites, and of course, in brewing new beers. For GABF and World Beer Cup, the Brewer's Association has its own guidelines. They're updated more frequently and I think they account for some market realities that the BJCP may not always capture. For example, I believe they acknowledged hazy IPAs before the BJCP did, as these beers were quickly becoming an important part of the market share and brewing industry in general.

There are some interesting distinctions, like “American Oktoberfest” versus German style. They have both in the BA guidelines. American basically allows slightly more hopping. Not a high amount of hops, but slightly more. I actually appreciate this. Many people who go to Germany, many who love the festbiers of Germany, complain or point out that many American breweries hop higher. I'm one of those people, and sometimes lost in those observations, is that an Oktoberfest that is 10-20% hoppier or more bitter than a German one can be delicious. Using some light Cascade hops or Sterling or Mount Hood can totally result in a quality beer (Sierra Nevada uses 2 row and cascade hops in its oktoberfest, for example). So why not acknowledge that a large group of breweries in America are doing it in a slightly different way, and separate out a category for that? It still allows the traditional examples to go into the German-style category. Win-win to me, and very practical.

Before I got into beer writing, I was probably guilty of visiting too few breweries in recent years. I mean, I know what I like, and despite enjoying virtually every beer style when done a certain way, I could count on one hand the number of breweries I'd visit regularly. I'd go to Bierstadt the most, Helles and Pils alone were enough to keep me interested for life, those are fantastic, delicious beers. Anything else made there was just a bonus. The improved food over the years was another bonus. My logic was, “hey, beer isn't free, why waste time drinking a beer that is almost certainly not as good as the places I regularly visit?”

I don't completely dismiss that line of thinking anymore, but I've changed a bit. I appreciate the ambiance of a space a little bit more now, and I also have grown better at seeking information and ultimately finding beers that other breweries do very well too, particularly from breweries that don't brew one general style of beer. Maybe the IPA is just OK, but what about the dry stout? 

Brewing knowledge has increased and become so much more accessible over the last five to ten years. There are more trained brewers coming out of certified programs, stateside and abroad, every single year. It's an industry where you would rarely get worse at your craft, so it makes sense that so many have gotten better, especially with the emphasis on boutique ingredients, often from local suppliers. Those companies wouldn't exist if there wasn't a strong interest in them, both from customers and producers alike.

In my newfound wider travels, I've found beers like a cold IPA from New Terrain that was as good as any I've had from Westbound & Down. An altbier from Little Dry Creek that would've been in my top three in Dusseldorf. A Czech lager from Seedstock that would fit right in at Wild Provisions or Cohesion. I could triple the size of this paragraph. Yes, there have been more “OK” beers, but few that I didn't finish or had to struggle to drink. But the quality is higher than ever before, and the beers at this competition just reinforced that. Yes, there were plenty of flawed beers (oxidation most, pointing towards packaging as an inherent skill in entering competitions like GABF), but by the final rounds, you often had a half a dozen beers in front of you that you'd really enjoy a full pint of. Deciding between those half dozen or more beers, picking out the three medal winners, was a challenge for the usual five-person team of judges for each category, but a ton of fun.

Back to the point, going through all these categories, drinking some of the best commercial examples in the country against each other, it really made me feel that I should seek out some better examples of styles I don't often drink. American Wheat ale is a great example. Breckenridge has won medals with its Agave Wheat in this category before. That's a beer I don't really care for. The style is usually super light, fairly bland, low bittering and hops, and historically in this country it has been a style made for people who just want bud/miller/coors type beers. A slot on a tap list to be filled in, “We have to have that for people who are here that don't like beer.”

Luckily, options for non beer drinkers at breweries is wider than ever and people who don't like beer don't need to settle for a light, bland beer. American Wheat isn't found on every tap list any longer. But who is still making it and who is making it with the attention, care and thoughtfulness that many of the top breweries are putting into their pilsners, IPAs and barleywines? That's a question I seek to answer.

Read the style guidelines for American Wheat, read the upper limits of ABV, IBUs and color (5.6%, 35 IBUs and 7 SRM respectively). Understand that you can do a substyle, a dark American wheat (5.6%, 25 IBUs and 22 SRM upper limits). Use at least 30% malted wheat. You can have a medium hop bitterness, a low to medium hop character, some light fruity esters from the ale yeast (light, subtle, as in blonde or amber ales). A low to medium body, clean, with some soft bready type grainy flavor in there, perhaps from the wheat, perhaps from some Vienna you decided to put in there. That could be a damn good beer. Who is making beers like this in the American Wheat category? I don't know, but I aim to find out, and maybe brew one myself as well.

Judging the rye category sort of opened my eyes again to the possibility of hybrid beers. When I started brewing, I would do a lot of experimental things. Fifteen years ago a friend and I made an earl grey tea beer. It was delicious, people loved it. Basically a light American pale ale, but with added earl grey tea. Of course, over the next decade, beers like that went from almost unheard of to typical. Every damn ingredient has been put into a beer, often for suspicious reasons (like attention/hype/”because we can!!!”). I grew tired of this stuff. While there are new things you can do with beer, nothing really feels “new.” Few things will inspire me to say “wow.” I might laugh when you bring up a mustard beer, an IPA aged in hot sauce barrels, or I might even roll my eyes when you tell me about a beer fermented with yeast from a brewer's beard. But I won't be surprised.

Lost in all this “race to do everything to every type of beer,” is the potential value in altering a small number of ingredients in a beer. Of adding something uncommon to a beer style, but something that might fit in, something of value. The rye category reminded me of this notion. We judged some amazing rye beers. Roggenbier (light German rye ales with hefeweizen yeast) were in this category, a historic German style that has all but disappeared. But there were beers like a brown porter with rye, a rotbier with rye (a German red ale, historically from Nuremberg, had almost gone extinct, but now a handful of Nuremberg-area breweries make it, among others in the world). A California common with rye. These were some of my favorite types of rye beers that we judged in the finals.

As I was drinking these, the rye added a very subtle, slightly spicy, sometimes earthy character to these beers. A delicious and welcomed dimension to the best of this category. And I thought, why not? Why not purposefully add a subtle ingredient to a beer? This is less of a flavor impact than a white wine barrel might have a Belgian tripel, less of an impact than a very tiny dry hop and perhaps a slightly higher malt character would have on a German Pilsner (turning it into what is referred to as a classic Italian Pilsner these days, NOT the overly dry hopped, but often delicious versions that plenty of brewers call Italian Pils).

The use of new ingredients and methods have always allowed for variations, and even clear improvements, and new beers were born from this. At some point all pale ale was just called that. Then it was sectioned out to distinct types (American and English first). The Oktoberfest example that I mentioned earlier reminds me of this too. I used to think the Germans were regimented when it came to style, everything was very specific and had hard rules. Not at all. Maybe Munich area breweries, but even there, it's more that they're similar, than any overarching guide that forces them to call beers certain things. The slightly higher hopped American Oktoberfests that I talked about? They're making some higher hopped beers of that style in Franconia now. A local tour guide over there even told me they've made a comeback in recent years. And like I said to the far more experienced-in-German judge at the table: Plenty of historical German breweries toss a kiss of hops late into the kettle or into the dry hop. Hell, the lager koelschips historically often had hops tossed into them. They'd add some soft, herbal hop flavors to the beer, and also help to filter the beer as they started to drain the koelschip into the fermenter.

Using a subtle ingredient in an otherwise classic style of beer, it should be welcomed if it is well integrated. And don't lose the forest for the trees: No classification, history or style matters one bit if the beer tastes good. And those rye beers tasted great.

So as you're on the floor of GABF this month, thinking about what to drink next, maybe try something new. Try something different. Perhaps not a pickle beer (though, I'm almost embarrassed to admit I evaluated a fantastic one during judging), but something classic with a slight, but sensible twist. You might be surprised at what you find.

Cheers!