The Humble Gourmand

Books and blogs about beer have become as commonplace as imperial barrel-aged black double IPAs at your local _. Why should one choose one blog over another, or choose to spend time reading a 300-page book about beer, when one could learn through experience, drinking a round of samples at a brewpub and chatting with the brewer?

I can’t answer that, seeing as you, my reader, have chosen to read this post instead of the other (well, hopefully you have a pint of something delicious in front of you – I know I do as I’m writing this). But, your ever-faithful Brew can try to give you some clues about what you could read if you choose to spend this Saturday night curled up in front of the fireplace with a snifter of barleywine.

The Naked Pint, by Hallie Beaune and Christina Perozzi, is a well-written and informative piece of writing. Beaune and Perozzi, beer sommeliers from the LA area, are obviously very knowledgeable and passionate about beer. The book is appropriate for all levels – the Beer 101 section teaches the very basics about the history and production of beer, while a section on beer styles profiles some of the world’s more interesting beers, from gueuze (“This beer’s for you if you like: sour candy, Greek yogurt, funky cheese, James Brown”) to Russian Imperial Stout (“This beer’s for you if you like: Russian czars, borscht, big furry hats, Dr. Zhivago”).

The writing is saucy and distinctly feminine – I’ve never heard a male author refer to beer appreciation as sexy or certain beers as promiscuous (“With a bit of James Bond, a touch of Shaft, and a dose of Mrs. Robinson …”). They encourage beer drinkers to learn enough so as to be confident at the bar – instead of ordering an ale or lager, or even an IPA or wheat beer, describe what you want: are you looking for malty or fruity sweetness? Floral or citrusy hoppiness? This in turn will push bartenders to know their selection – how many times have you asked for a new beer and heard about that “interesting import from Belgium, Stella?”

I recently met the authors and they are as fun and interesting as their writing indicates. They presided over a beer-and-food pairing – one of their specialties – and told stories from their book tour. It was refreshing to meet female beer writers. Too much of the beer world is dominated by men, so it’s nice to hear some different voices. This book’s for you if you like: beer, women, wittiness, innuendo.

Although she has gotten some fame in the beer world, I cannot recommend you stuff your favorite beer-lovers’ stocking with Maureen Ogle’s Ambitious Brew. This book is a history of beer in America, from its Teutonic origins in the mid-19th century to the craft boom of the mid-1980s and ’90s.

Ogle has certainly done her research – she tells many interesting stories about the first American brewers – but the book itself is almost unreadable. It is so full of clichés and obnoxious turns-of-phrase that any Anglophone reader should be offended. I acknowledge that beer writing is ripe for repetitive phrases. (There are only so many ways a person can describe that magical combination of malt, hops, water, and yeast.) Ogle, though, offends with her constant editorializing. Referring to Otto Stifel, a pre-Prohibition era brewer, Ogle writes “Alas, poor Stifel, the worst has yet to come.” Writing about breweries in the 1960s, she says, “But in the spring of 1968, as long-haired kids wearing flowers in their hair marched against the war…” About the prohibitionist Wayne Wheeler, Ogle writes, “To a casual observer, Wheeler appeared to be the soul of middle-class respectability: Tidy pince-nez straddled an acceptably straight nose perched above a meticulous mustache. …Only his lips – curled in a prissy sneer, or, more often, curved into a self-satisfied smirk, belied the zealot lurking within.”

A journeyman storyteller, Ogle has no deep connection with beer. The introduction to Ambitious Brew describes the haphazard way she settled on the history of beer as her subject matter, having finished books on the history of American plumbing in the 19th century and a history of Key West, Florida. This book is rich with history, so read it for that reason if you wish, but don’t say you haven’t been warned. This book’s for you only if you like: history, clichés, storytelling.